Valen Wang said...

I still remember an indelible story my grandpa told me when I was a child. One day after I saw a movie about war, I was interested in the hero's traits and his medals. They were like many shining stars on his chest. Because I heard my grandpa was a solider in military and he was a company commander. I asked him, "Why have I never seen your medals Grandpa?" He told me that during the time of the culture revolution in China, many bad people persecuted a lot of good people since the bad people wanted to seize the honor from good people. By some politic reasons and insidious acts, they succeed. My grandpa was one of the victims. The bad people confiscated all of my grandpa's medals and named him as a counter-revolutionary. I was totally dumbfounded by this. It really hard to image the lose of my grandpa. The medals and the honor were traded by his life, but they were seized easily by those bad guys. But my grandpa told me, "The best part of my life is not the medals I've owned. It's the memories of fighting with heroes.”

Logann Haworth said...

An item I would be completely distraught over if it were to be destroyed is my dad's old slippers. As many people know, my Dad passed away when I was very little and we have only a few of his material items; not only that, but very few material items that we can use. I do have these slippers we wear around my house. They are old leather slippers that are very worn down but still work. I love them to pieces and it's nice to know my dad once wore these and that I get to chance to use them 17 years later. An example of how important these slippers are to my family is when my mom wore them on Christmas morning at my older sisters house, she said, "Dad is definitely with us today." I hope these never wear out and if they do I will get them re-soled! They are something I will cherish forever and I hope will never get destroyed.

Daniel Phung said...

The truth is until this homework, I never thought about true art in my life. And of course this comment took me a lot of time to think about what is the most important thing to me. That thing is a rosary which I got from my friend, a priest. It came from Italy. It smells really good. I often pray with the rosary. Beside that, I always wear it when I joined a competition or a take an important test. It brings me luck and power. I can feel the luck and strength, but when I wear the rosary, I know that God is near to me, he helps me to do the work and get a good result. It also helps me with problems and making a right decision. If it ever got lost or stolen, I don't know how I would feel, but it would be very bad for me.

Zoe Horn said...

Each time I look down, aging hands mock me. Every year another line is added to my collection, the scornful presence of aging. On the 5th of November, remembered throughout the ages as a day of gunpowder, plot, and birth, I celebrate the coming of my departure. But something eases the pain--a polished metal ring, lined with stones hugs my finger. The reminiscence of whimpering cries scream from its core. How could something acquired with the price of pain be so precious to me? Past down from generation to generation holding each ancestors memories and secrets as it meets it's new barer, it now lives homely on my finger. A day without it is like being stripped of any dignity and pride, to walk around for the rest of my days without it, could be the last straw between me and my sanity.

Pablo Skaff said...

To a lot of people, they think that art is something of a painting or some kind of architectural achievement. My special piece of art is a wooden box that has Mayan pyramids and “Pablo’s Treasure Box” painted onto it. This wooden box that I have was made for me the week after I was born and was given to me as my first Christmas present on December 25th,1994. This box that I have holds many of my valuable items, such as a postcard from my Dad when I was very young and a picture of a friend that passed away. It’s cultural significance is that it has the Mayan temples painted on it thus showing the architectural achievement of Latin Americans. It’s my most prized possession because it holds items in the past that have an emotional meaning. If it were stolen, then some of my memories of a child would be fever lost. This box, in a sense, holds my childhood in it.

Tori Conte said...

I do not have any specific pieces of beautiful art that hold sentimental value, or have witnessed beautiful music that warmed me. The one thing that would break my heart to lose is my house. It is not an extravagant house, nor is it a shack not fit for living conditions, it is my home and it has always been the only safe haven I’ve known. Having it taken away or stolen, like some people in our bad economy have experienced when their homes were foreclosed, would be like stealing my memories, taking something that doesn’t and never will belong to them. Every day I’m in my house I remember something worth remembering that happened inside the walls or on the roads that encircle it and having it disappear would be like having someone rob you blind of everything you knew. It would be painful and would leave a huge gap in my life or in my memories.