This urn really is a fascinating mystery. It appeared in an antique shop in Angus, Scotland in the 70’s. And yes, when I say “appeared,” that’s really what I mean. The shop owner walked into his store one day and there it was, sitting on the counter as though somebody had snuck in at night and left it as a present. It was hand painted, because on one side there are several little flaws in the brush strokes. It appeared delicate and precious, so the store owner decided to keep it in the store to see what would happen to it and if he could figure out where it came from. Its true origins are unknown to this day.

A week later, my mum was not very happy. The family was taking a day trip to Glamis castle and she couldn’t go because she had to take her O-Level exams that day at school. Her mum, Dorothy, felt bad for her and decided to get her a gift while in the town up by the castle. Dorothy came across the antique shop and went inside to take a look.

She bought the urn, without noticing that inscribed on its underside was “McLeish”— which happens to be my family’s last name. It’s almost like the urn was a “lost thing” trying its best to come back to a McLeish owner.

Although urns are usually associated with holding ashes, they are often used for decoration as well. My mum placed the urn on her bedside table and it lived there in Dundee for over twenty years. It made the cut for the move down to England and claimed a spot on the kitchen counter. It held Tetley tea bags.

Many of our possessions couldn’t come with us when we came to America. For some reason, this urn was chosen to accompany us. It traveled across the ocean by boat, along with our other possessions, while we flew to New York. I claimed it as mine, even though it wasn’t given to me. I didn’t actually do anything with it— it just sat in my kitchen by our table. But it was mine.

 Then it accidentally became a jello bowl.

I had my first bone graft done and I couldn’t eat anything solid. I was very out of it and wanted jello. Somehow, I thought I had grabbed a regular bowl to make my jello in… but I had grabbed the urn instead. It made a marvelous jello bowl because my cats (Smokie and Smirnoff) will eat anything, and if I leave any food uncovered, they will lick it and stick their paws in it and get it everywhere. This was the perfect jello bowl because I could eat it on the couch, then when I wanted to fall asleep, I could simply put on the lid and save it for later, without having to worry about my troublesome cats getting into it. The urn remained a jello bowl for three years and served faithfully through several more face surgeries.

Now, the urn looks like a proper urn, sitting on a table in my living room, in between two plants, with a picture of my grandmother Dorothy in front of it. If you look at it, you’d assume that her ashes were inside. But the urn holds something much, much different.

I used to try to keep my cats out of the urn to keep my jello safe. But now, the urn holds their fallen whiskers. Have you ever felt a cat whisker? They’re fascinating. They’re thick at one end, almost like plastic, and then taper to a thin, delicate point. When I first found one, I didn’t think I’d find another. I wanted a good place to keep it, so I put it in the urn. Now, it holds a whole collection of over forty whiskers, all from Smokie and Smirnoff. I don’t know why I keep them. It’s a little weird. I’ll definitely be a crazy cat lady when I’m older.

But the urn story gets even weirder. We now have two urns that look like this. The second one came in the mail. My grandad had found it on his doorstep. This one also has “McLeish” written on the bottom. So the McLeish urns remain a mystery. I don’t think we’ll ever know where they came from or how they were made. If only I knew an urn maker- maybe he could help figure out when and where it came from. It’s surprisingly hard to find out urn manufacture information on google! However, I think this makes the urns even more fascinating. Sometimes it’s nice for objects to come with a lot of mystery.