The Traveling 1957 Chevy Cookie Jar
By David Stenhouse
Our daughter looked at the Jekyll Island sunset and typed, “Wow….so romantic….lol”. I had just texted her a photo of a 1957 Chevy cookie jar with two cats sitting looking across the water while the sun dropped. This item was provided by my brother and sister-in-law and accompanied Shay and I for a 9,000+ mile journey around America for the holidays.
The abandoned Pineapple Juice stand in Lake Placid, Florida, gives off a Route 66 vibe. Photo by David Stenhouse
Objects don’t hold much meaning to us. If an item has no applicable daily use and is sitting around in storage, we tend to donate it. This keeps clutter out of our lives. But I do like objects that have a history or a story behind them, keeping a collection of career mementos stored away in a few plastic tubs. If the item was in an old photo or represents an important moment in time, I am more attached to it. So, when an object has no special meaning, it can be entertaining to create some type of “history”, giving it meaning.
My family holds a Christmas get together each year at my sister and brother-in-law’s property in Ellensburg, Washington. This yearly celebration consists of a lot of laughter, hugs, and shooting a large amount of ammunition at clay pigeons, ending with a gift exchange. In 2022, Shay and I took along a snowman cookie jar on a return Florida trip, snapping photos of it in locations across the U.S. The snowman gift was placed in a box and accompanied by a small album with printed photos, each labeled with the location. My brother picked it, adding to his collection of unique cookie jars.
Corner to corner across America.
When Shay and I planned another cross-country trek, my brother texted me a photo of the the 1957 Chevy cookie jar, purchased by my sister-in-law at an Oregon antique store for $15. I responded, “if you get that to me, I’ll take it everywhere….just please realize I may drop and break it somewhere in America". A week later, the cats showed up at our house and off we went.
Florida and back through 13 states, corner to corner in the U.S. The farthest point from the Pacific Northwest ended up in Immokalee, Florida, where I took it along to the local dragstrip to shoot photos of the action. It visited a 1700s-era house in Jekyll Island, Georgia (if the builder could only see it now in front of the fireplace), touched the Atlantic Ocean, visited a donut shop in Newton, Kansas, traveled through Wyoming snow, motored through a Buc-ee’s in Terrell, Texas, crossed the Edmund Pettus Bridge in Selma, Alabama, and parked next to a Georgia State Trooper in Albany.
Touching the Atlantic Ocean in Jekyll Island, Georgia. Photo by David Stenhouse.
I even tried to be creative, dragging it on the sands in Jekyll Island, Georgia, giving it a look of motoring to the beach and back. If you’re wondering if I have too much time on my hands…..well, at that moment, yes, I did.
The cookie jar, in reality, was probably manufactured somewhere overseas, where it has already traveled as many miles that we gave it. But this post isn’t about reality. This post is about exploring the U.S. and making something out of nothing.
I’m happy to report the cookie jar is safely back in the Pacific Northwest. By itself, a meaningless item; however, one now with a story of its own.
Carrying around a camera since childhood, David Stenhouse has a love for capturing people, machines, and America. He is now so blessed to spend each day running a business with his best friend, high school sweetheart, and wife, Shay.