When I was a kid, my mom used to say that if the house ever caught fire, the one thing she would grab before anything else was the box of family photos that she kept in her closet, which I’m sure was common for many of us before analog became digital. For my mom, those photos were the things — the objects —that she held most dear, more than jewelry or money or a favorite piece of clothing. They anchored her to specific memories and feelings and because of that were more or less irreplaceable. Objects have meaning and…