Attachment to objects may be formed in childhood, but it’s a behaviour that knows no age limit. Pamela Young is eighty-seven years old. On reading of my research into attachment objects, her son, Rabbi Roderick Young, got in contact to tell me about the most important possession in her life, a pillowcase from her childhood crib she calls ‘Billy’.
FIG. 20: Pamela Young with ‘Billy’ in 2007. IMAGE © RODERICK YOUNG.
Pamela has had Billy for as long as she can remember. She sleeps every night with her head on Billy, clutching him with her right hand close to her face. Pamela has only ever been separated once from Billy – during an air raid in the London Blitz of 1944. She was staying in the Savoy Hotel with her first husband when the sirens sounded for guests to take refuge in the air raid shelters below. When she discovered that she had left Billy in her room, Pamela had to be physically restrained from returning to her room. Such is the power of sentimental objects. Roderick tells me that Pamela has requested that Billy be placed in the coffin with her, a promise Roderick intends to keep.
THE COPY BOX MACHINE
What is it about attachment objects that children cherish? Obviously, the physical properties are critically important for identification, but Paul Bloom and I suspected that the attachment ran much deeper than just the smell, sight, and feel of these objects. Why are they so irreplaceable? We decided to build the copy box machine to answer this question.
According to various physicists, duplicating machines are theoretically possible, just unbelievably improbable because they require vast amounts of energy and memory.14 Undaunted, we built a copying machine on a shoestring budget. It comprised two scientific-looking boxes with knobs and dials with flashing lights.15 Each box opened from the front so that an object could be placed inside. We showed this ‘machine’ to four- to five-year-olds and demonstrated how it worked. We placed various toys in one box, activated the machine, stood back, and waited for several seconds. After a moment, the second box activated by itself to alert the operator that the copy had been made. It was amazing. When both boxes were opened, there was a toy in each that looked exactly the same. We copied various toys, making exact duplicates of the original. The children were convinced that the machine actually worked and did not figure out that there was a second hidden experimenter behind the machine feeding in duplicate objects. The critical test was whether or not children would allow us to copy their own toys. Of course, we could not really copy their objects because we did not have duplicate blankets and soft toys. They simply had to decide which box to open in order to retrieve an item.
We identified two groups of children: those with favourite toys but no particular attachment to them, according to their parents, and those children who needed to sleep with the object every night. Children with favourite toys thought the machine was ‘so cool’ and happily offered their toys for duplication and even preferred to choose the box that was thought to contain the copy. In fact, they were often disappointed when we opened both boxes and confessed that the whole thing had been a trick. In contrast, the children with attachment objects either would not allow us to put their item in the machine in the first place or emphatically demanded return of the original. When we explained the setup, they were relieved to discover that their object could not be copied. Children did not want an identical copy of their attachment object. I think that they wanted the original back because a copy would lack the essential unique quality that we imbue sentimental objects with.
What about objects that did not belong to the child? Could we find evidence that they also thought others had unique possessions? Would they also treat the original and duplicates as essentially different? The copy machine was put into service again to look at the origins of authenticity and the value we put on memorabilia. We showed six-to seven-year-olds a metal spoon and a metal goblet and told them that one item was special because it was made of silver and the other was special because it once belonged to Queen Elizabeth II. This time it was easy to produce an identical copy, since we had bought two of each in advance. When we produced the second copy, we asked the children to value each item with counters. If the object had been described as special because it was made of silver, the children placed equal value on the original and the copy. It was made of the same stuff. However, if the item was said to have once belonged to the Queen, the same children valued the original over the copy. Something in the original could not be duplicated. Was it simply an association, or did children think that there was something of the previous owner in the object?
HOW TO SPOT A DALAI LAMA
The essential nature of objects is central to Tibetan Buddhist beliefs. According to eyewitness testimony from 1941, the bureaucrats in charge of finding the reincarnated Dalai Lama tested a two-year-old boy, Tenzin Gyatso in the remote village of Takster in the Qinghai province of China. Their technique was simple. Tenzin was presented with the personal possessions of the previous Dalai Lama, the 13th, along with a selection of inauthentic similar or identical looking items. When presented with an authentic black rosary and a copy of one, Tenzin grabbed the real one and put it around his neck. When presented with two yellow rosaries, he again grasped the authentic one. Simple objects like canes and quilts were picked out from among the copies. In one instance, given a choice of hand drums, Tenzin ignored the more beautiful damaru (two-headed drum shaped like an hour glass) and chose the plain one, ‘Without any hesitation, he picked up the drum. Holding it in his right hand, he played it with a big smile on his face; moving around so that his eyes could look at each of us from close up. Thus, the boy demonstrated his occult powers, which were capable of revealing the most secret phenomena.’16 The Tibetan bureaucrats were convinced. The Tibetan test relied on supersense powers to detect possession imbued with the essence of the previous Dalai Lama. Tenzin must be the reincarnation as he not only recognized the objects but he could also pick them out from identical copies. But you don’t have to be a head of state or religious leader to have the ability to empower possessions with essence.
MISTER ROGERS’ CARDIGAN
The longest-running American public television show was Mister Rogers’ Neighborhood, which began airing in 1968 and had its final episode in 2001. It always began the same way: the congenial Fred Rogers returning home and singing his theme song, ‘Won’t You Be My Neighbor?’ as he changed into his sneakers and a cardigan. It was a children’s show that dealt with the anxieties of growing up and coping with problems and expressing emotion, all delivered in a calm and serene formula that did not deviate over the decades. Fred Rogers, a real-life ordained Presbyterian minister, was a homely, placid, and comforting figure to the nation’s children. With almost one thousand episodes, Mister Rogers became a significant figure for millions of Americans. He received numerous awards and accolades and even had an asteroid, ‘26858 Misterrogers’, named after him. On receiving a lifetime achievement award at the 1997 Emmys, Mister Rogers brought the audience to tears with his simple and humble acceptance speech. On his death, the US House of Representatives unanimously passed Resolution 111 honouring Mister Rogers for ‘his legendary service to the improvement of the lives of children, and his dedication to spreading kindness through example’. When his old car had been stolen and he filed a police report, there was public outrage. Apparently, the car was returned to the same spot with a note saying, ‘If we’d known it was yours, we’d never have taken it!’ Whether this tale is true or not does not really matter. People would like to believe that it was true. The man was loved by generations.