You can learn something about a person by looking at the bookmarks they use. I don’t mean the bookmarks on a web browser; I mean the old fashioned kind that keep your place in a book. As books move to iPads and Kindles, we’re going to lose the personal expression of bookmarks. Not a big deal, but still one more “buggy whip” that will be lost to the tsunami of technological advancement.
My own bookmarks are an eclectic bunch of tags, ribbons, recycled paper and faux precious metals. For instance, one of my nicest bookmarks is from Castello Banfi Il Borgo, one of the most beautiful hotels in Italy. It’s the kind of place where the maids put a bookmark on your pillow each night. Castello Banfi is actually a medieval castle surrounded by 7000-acres of vineyard. We stayed there a few years ago, and the bookmark reminds me of a glorious vacation with D’Aun.
An artist in Belize created bookmarks for PathLight that have an embossed leaf, along with the PathLight logo and motto, “Hope through Faith and Learning.” I seem to recall having a SOLD Project bookmark, but I can’t find it. Each time I look at these I’m reminded of my responsibility to care for the poor. Not just “care” in the sense of actual supplies or support, but “care” in the sense of understanding that it matters. Or said anther way, I’m called to give a damn.
Then there is my Westmont bookmark, created by a Senior class leadership group. It reminds me of the thousands of fellow alumni who are changing the world.
My Hotel Hana Maui bookmark has a bittersweet power to it, as some might guess. I have both wonderful memories and melancholy memories.
From Australia, I have a cloth bookmark with Aboriginal paintings on one side. It’s been surprisingly durable and it reminds me of visiting Uluru in central Australia.
There are a collection of bookmarks from Alaska Airlines. I like to keep them because they have a verse from the Psalms on them. I also have several useless airline boarding passes that served as bookmarks during a flight and were never removed from the book. Each reflects a trip I’ve taken.
There are bookmarks that look like Christmas ornaments, bookmarks that look like stained glass windows, and bookmarks that are made from imitation silver. Almost all of them were gifts. I don’t use any of them.
There are bookmarks from England, Israel, Tahoe, and the Great Wall of China (no idea where I got the last one). Perhaps the most curious one is a broken luggage tag that I used as a bookmark … what was I thinking when I did that? And of course I have a variety of bookmarks from amazon.com, Barnes & Noble, Borders, and a collection of independent bookstores.
I find random things used as bookmarks: business cards, gum wrappers (no gum inside), napkins, and random pieces of paper.
Every now and then I find a book with a post-it note with a message like “great quote, third paragraph”. Seems like a great use for post-it notes, then I realize that I haven’t opened the book in years.
My most precious bookmark isn’t even used as a bookmark — it’s a drawing done by Jedd when he was about 5-years old, and it’s too valuable to risk losing, so it is safely tucked away.
So, what does that tell me about myself? For one thing, it obviously shouts that I’ve traveled a lot. It tends to say that I’m pragmatic (or at least I like to think the gum wrapper says that about me). Also that I have a wide variety of interests. It expresses how important my faith is. And that I read a lot. And that many of my memories are filled with my family.
But perhaps the most important thing it tells me: I should probably clean out my nightstand more often.