If you read my post about identity, you know that someone in my own neck of the woods tried having at me (ironically by using my own ancestral symbol) by defacing my family crest. The pictures of the original damage are in the other post.
Some of you were so put out on my behalf (thanks, btw) by this act of hate and fear that I thought you’d be glad to see that with just ten minutes and a rotary tool, I was able to make the details shine again. I’ll recover it a bit more, but for now it serves me well as a reminder of identity: who others are–and who I am. Most importantly, who I am not.