I have been receiving a lot of inquiries about the meaning of my handle so I am posting it for those whose “inquiring minds want to know.”
Approximately three years ago, the neighbor across the alley behind my house passed away. The family cleaned the house and garage out and threw away a bunch of things that still looked useful, so I went scavenging to see if anything was of interest or use.
After digging around for some time, I found a wooden rack with a wooden box attached to the base. Inside the box were a bunch of keys, but one in particular stood out. It's silver and has a bunch of fancy ornamental engraving on it. It's about the same size and shape of a common housekey, but is like no key I have ever seen before. It also looks to be quite old, I would guess, perhaps 50 years or much more. I kept the key and now wear it as a necklace. I know the key is part real silver because it tarnishes and needs silver polish occasionally.
The magical aspect comes from the fact that in 1994, I began writing a novel, and the main object of the story centers around a silver key! I found this key, years later. Quite an unusual co-incidence.
Also, I once talked to a locksmith over the internet, about the key. He had some very interesting things to say about it. After describing it to him in great detail, he estimated it was quite old maybe from the 1930's or so, and said that the manufacturer of the key is a high security lock manufacturer who makes locks for things like governmental applications. It is, indeed, a form of real silver.
Maybe I found the key to AREA 51! (laughing) I have no idea what the key used to open, but the mystery surrounding it is absolutely fascinating. I often wonder, if just the key alone is so fancy, what in the world was behind the lock that it once opened? I think half the fun may be not knowing.
So, there is the story of my magical silver key. I am very attached to it, and it is quite special to me. I like to think of it as my lucky charm. It makes a great conversation piece as well. I have even grown to thinking of it as the key to my heart.
That’s a cute story…mine’s rather unoriginal. Sometime in high school, several of my friends took to calling me Pammipoo. It stuck.
Course, on the other hand, I may have started that trend, I don’t remember. But I have developed the habit of -pooing people. Among my good friends:Seaneepoo, Greggipoo, Jeffypoo, and Bekkaboo. (Had to have a slight variety…) I’m not sure when I started this, but everyone else hates the concept. Sean and Bekka just humor me.
Yeah I need help. What’s your point?
Well, now we know.
I like your posts, MSK.
Especially the ones about “Spot”. Yep, I read those too.
Scared the living shit out of me, I still look up at my ceiling thinking that I might see something. You still in the same house?
Wow. I am surprised that you recall my story of “Spot.”
I am indeed, still in the same house. Spot hasn’t popped out for a long time, and that’s fine with me! Wherever “it” is, “it” can stay there! Whatever attracted “it” to this place I will never know for certain.
Damn, thanks for reminding me. Mercutio, if Spot pays us any visits, I will be sure to let “it” know that you’re interested in a visit. :Wally
One of the people mentioned in the “Worst Songs” threads: “I’ve got a brand new pair of roller skates; you’ve got a brand new key…” If you’re not familiar with the song, count yourself lucky.
And it does fit you well.