Bottles are a good example. I would say that serious bottle-collectors constitute something of a cult, and although I don't count myself among their number, I empathize with them in their enthusiasm for seeking rare specimens. It seems especially interesting that the locations of old outhouses or privies are a rich source of rare bottles. The privies not only served as backyard plumbing facilities but also as a convenient place to dispose of bottles, which don't take a lot of space. I can recall several of these primitive sanitary conveniences in the Saratoga of my childhood.

I can't say that my one prized bottle went the outhouse route, but it's an interesting possibility. The bottle is quite small, of green glass, and outside in raised letters are the words "Pacific Congress Water." The image of a leaping deer is on the opposite side. This, of course, is from Congress Springs, the mineral water source that gave Saratoga its name (and no, I'm not going to get into the "floating scum on the water" controversy).

The mineral water here was found to have the same content as one of the Saratoga Springs in New York, so this became Pacific Congress Springs. Our community's name came just a few years later. In addition to a stylish hotel, which burned just 100 years ago, the springs were the basis of a bottling business that lasted until 1915. The bottles from this plant are highly prized today. I got mine several years ago at an antique store, paying something like10 or 15 dollars for it and glad to obtain it that cheap.

Another item of negligible intrinsic value that I cherish is a knife I used in cutting apricots, the topic of a recent column. One doesn't see knives like these anymore, at least I haven't. The blade is quite thin but also quite wide, from cutting edge to top edge. On mine, the handle is about twice as long as the blade. In 1937, this knife cost 10 cents. For 15 cents you could get one with a longer blade.

I remember buying it at Metzger's store—where the Golden Mirror is today—and being told by bookkeeper J.A. Emrich, who also served as a clerk, "Spend 10 cents, make 10 dollars." And that was about the take after a couple of weeks or so of 'cot-cutting. I suppose one could draw the inference that if I'd bought a 15-cent knife, I could have made 15 dollars. It didn't work that way.

Anyway, my wife appreciated the significance of that knife, so she had me make a frame for it. It hangs today in our kitchen.

An object of even more questionable value, but one that I would be loath to part with, is a blacksmith's anvil. Now, unless you're into blacksmithing, there is probably no more useless object than an anvil, especially one with the end broken off, as is the case with this one.

The broken end, opposite the horn, or pointed section, is where the swage holes were. A swage is a sort of tool or die with a sharp edge that could be used for working metal that couldn't be shaped elsewhere on the anvil. The anvil made a solid base for a swage.

Now, I have no way of proving this, but it's my theory that the reason that anvil is broken is that the swage hole had been packed with gunpowder, which was then ignited. In the early days, this was one of the robust methods of celebrating major events, like the Fourth of July, or the completion of a railroad. There was a term for this practice, something like "anvil-blasting," which I have heard but can't remember. I'd appreciate any help on this.

As to the blacksmithing angle, that's a skill I'd really like to learn. Back in 1977 I spent a week with a blacksmith in England being tutored in the craft, and I have the beginnings of a smithy in my back yard. But that's taking a back seat to the printing museum I hope to open this summer on my 80th birthday. Say, where did the time go?