THTooLongDon'tRead

In recent months John and I have been watching episodes of the original British version of Antiques Roadshow. We consider it a bit of professional development for our thrifting hobby. Had it not been for an episode introducing us to Robert Thompson’s Mouseman furniture, we would not have found and bought that 4” wood ashtray with signature mouse that sold for over $100. 

In a recent episode an older woman presented a collection of antique jewelry to expert Joanna Hardy. Hardy is always an enthusiastic interview as she loves to hear the stories of how beautiful items come to the possession of the person. In this case the woman recounted cherished childhood memories of spending time with her grandmother as she would prepare to go out for the day. The grandmother’s interaction with the child included backstories of the various jewelry pieces and the corresponding sentimental value. In this case the collection of jewelry amounted to a significant tens of thousands of pounds. As they concluded the interview, the older woman spoke of the wonderful experience of recalling and recounting those long held memories of time with her grandmother. It added an intrinsic value to the jewels that did not change the monetary value.

It struck me that memories are something like jewels. They are often tucked away for safekeeping but when something happens that stirs them to the surface, we are lucky to be able to enjoy them again and again. 

About the same  time as the Antiques Roadshow episode, John and I were on our way to dinner and as we walked through different doorways to arrive at the same place, I turned to him and said, “Well, pheasant in your ear!” 

This nonsensical retort has long been in my personal lexicon of stories and expressions. Its origins date back to the late 1970s and a story told to me that tickled my fancy and embedded itself deeply into my memory. The story goes something like: Jon and Jane are high school friends out one summer night having fun talking and laughing and likely burning off teenage energy. Like a scene from a teen coming of age film they both grab a pole and swing around it in opposite directions. When they come face to face, Jane says to Jon, “Well, pheasant in your ear!” They both laugh and continue on their way to the next adventure. Later, a perplexed Jon turns to Jane and asks what she meant earlier…pheasant in his ear?! Jane had said to Jon, “Well, fancy meeting you here!”

Since the late 1970’s whenever the occasion called for it, I have often retorted “Pheasant in your ear!” in lieu of “Fancy meeting you here!” If you have been confused by this, I apologize. But just like the woman who cherished the resurrection of the childhood memories as much or more than the treasured value of the jewels, I am left in awe of a deeply held memory and the joy I feel when it is unearthed from the recesses of my mind.