June 7, 1962

 

 

       The jar I found in the cellar had this label wrapped around it.  Only the date was written on the label.  There was no way to tell what was in the jar.  I couldn’t see inside it because the glass was so dirty, so the only way was to unscrew the lid, which I was very hesitant to do.  If it were something that smelled, I’d never rid myself of the odor.  If it had been something that was once alive then surely it would smell, and be visually gross, and that image would be stuck with me forever.

       I really couldn’t just set it back on the shelf, now that I’ve found it.  I had to do something about it, but what?  From the weight I knew it wasn’t empty.  I held it up to look through the bottom but it was too distorted to tell what it was.  I don’t know what was in this building back in 62.  Was it a factory or a lab of some kind?  Maybe just a warehouse, but a warehouse for what?

I guess I could carry it outside and then open it.  That way, if it really stinks, the smell would dissipate quickly in the fresh air.  But then again, why do I feel compelled to open it?  Who cares what’s in it?  Until just a few minutes ago I didn’t even know it existed. I think I’m just going to put it back where I found it.  Whoever finds it next can open it.