Charlie Strittmatter

Since being tasked with writing my previous blog post, I continued to be intrigued by the story and history behind the necklace I treasure. It only made sense to me to continue to share its story as it unexpectedly revealed itself to me. This object formerly meant (and presently still means) a great deal to me. Although, through nostalgic conversation and inquisitive questioning its meaning and importance has entirely transformed.

This necklace, in all its simplicity, I cherish immensely, because Eric made it and gave it to me. It hangs on the shorter side, the chain being made of a thin braid of three pieces of twine. A New York City subway token, fixed in the center of the necklace, is attached tightly with another, smaller braided piece of twine. To start off easy, I asked Eric from where he had gotten the string the necklace is made out of. The farthest back I got regarding its original location was in his pantry, but the string now resides in his bedroom. It sits there, still bundled up on a cardboard spool, waiting for the next time Eric puts his creative skills to use. The focus of my curiosity, the token, was discovered when Eric fished it out of a jar, filled with miscellaneous objects, he had found sitting in his father’s room. 

About three years ago (when he first found it), Eric fashioned the token onto a metal chain that he wore around his neck consistently for quite a while. Eventually, the chain had seen better days and snapped, no longer able to hold the token. Eric kept the token, awaiting a time when he came across a more functional chain to replace the old one. That led me to question why he eventually fashioned the token onto a twine necklace and then gifted it to me. Eric said he wanted to give me a gift that was unique and special to him; it being special to him because he believed that his father kept the token for a reason. That statement sparked more interest in me, since Eric had not known the reason why his father kept the token.

After a while of interrogating Eric, I hit a wall with the information I received, and took matters into my own hands. I sent a text to Eric’s father (Roger), this time, questioning the person I perceived to be the original owner of the token about its origins. The token’s story began to unveil itself.

Young and curious, Roger agreed to go on a trip with his father into New York City. The city was not new to his father, since he was an employee of the Long Island Rail Road and enjoyed traveling often. His father was very familiar with how to navigate the subways, so he knew what lies in store for them. As they arrived in the city, Roger’s father had told him that he wanted to show him a special place few people knew about. I can imagine that Roger was initially excited about this obscure location, but grew confused when he and his father never moved—why they never stepped off the subway each time it stopped. I can also imagine the anticipation building each time the doors opened, waiting for his father to lead the way off the rickety train, signaling they had arrived. The subway took them farther and further, deeper into the city, until finally, they stepped out.

As a lover of architecture, Roger was in awe. The grand arches of Old City Hall, lined with precise tile work, bridged from one side of the tracks to the other, stretching above him and his father. Skylights made of beautifully intricate stained glass let in just the right amount of sunlight to brighten up the darkened tunnel. The lighting was soft, unlike the other subway stations where the fluorescent lights pained your eyes. Here, the natural light combined with the amber bulbs carefully placed in hanging chandeliers above the tracks, lessened the harshness of the subway station. The subway and its stations are known for being filled with antsy people, rushing to get on the train, trying to keep their child under control, hauling 5 suitcases bumping into everyone in their path. Here, time is slowed down, and wound back, back to another place in history. Back to a place where things took time, skill, and patience to create. The remnants of New York City’s transportation history remains wonderfully intact, encapsulated by the opulence of Old City Hall. As a way to remember the trip, Roger’s father had given him the subway token. Every now and then, Roger picks up the dulled token and is reminded of that day, and that subway ride.

This story not only tugged at my heart strings, but made me feel differently about the token hanging from my neck. Should I even have this? It felt wrong being the owner of something with such a sentimental and personal story attached to it (especially since it was not my story). It no longer felt like the token was mine. I expressed these feelings to Eric, who reassured me that Roger had plenty of these tokens, and he did not mind that I held on to one. This is when I truly realized, this is how objects work. They are supposed to change meaning, supposed to evolve. The token, a symbol of remembrance, once shared between a father and son, now reminds a girl of the one she loves.

Works Cited:

Roadtrippers. “Here’s your chance to see NYC’s dazzling, abandoned City Hall station without risking a criminal trespass charge.” Roadtrippers, 16 Apr. 2019, roadtrippers.com/magazine/old-city-hall-subway-station.