The Story of Touchstones
So now I will tell you the story of the Touchstones. It was just before 9/11. I had been holding a piece of porcelain in my hand, musing about it’s texture and how it felt. It was like a stone. I rolled it into a comfortable form, and picked up a tool that I use for carving the tiles. I began to write words on the stones. No thought, just action. I rubbed colorants into the carved areas, like I do with the tiles, and fired the pieces.
These little pieces were like those that people all over the world hold: worry stones, beads and stones, and the like. It seemed that in the business of daily life, we—-I—-often lose track of things that I need to remember. These little pieces of porcelain were touchstones—-reminders—–to pay attention. I carry them in my pocket, and as I handle them, they help me remember.
A year after 9/11, I was in the studio. A couple came in. They were from New York City. We started talking. They were planning on walking, with a group of bagpipers, at dawn, from Battery Park to the place we now know as Ground Zero. The woman wanted to buy a touchstone that had PEACE on it. I gave her a dozen and a half or so, and asked her to pass them on.
A week or so after that, I received an email from a man who had been given one. He wrote that he had been in his office near the Twin Towers on September 11, and that receiving a touchstone was a life affirming experience—a connection with others who cared.
I continue to make them, on and off, when the time seems right to me. We sell them at our gallery in the Village of Peninsula, and I give them away when it is what I need to do. And that, my friends, is the story of touchstones.

As always, feel free to leave a comment, or a stone (o), to let me know you’ve stopped by. If you choose to leave a comment, I will enter you in a drawing for a touchstone.
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