Up on the highest shelf of a closet sat a pretty blue vase; inside the vase was an envelope. Inside the envelope was a “weird looking” key.
Oskar Schell, the precocious 9-year-old narrator of the novel “Extremely Loud & Incredibly Close” found the key, which he thought belonged to his deceased father, and looped it on a string around his neck.
“Extremely Loud” by Jonathan Safran Foer is the One Book, One Mesa County selection for 2009.
The key Oskar carries serves as a symbol throughout the novel of his quest to learn more about his father, who died in the 9/11 terrorist attacks on the World Trade Center.
At the beginning of his quest, Oskar takes the key to a locksmith and asks what he knows about it and what it might open.
Dave Kaiser, a keeper of keys and local locksmith in Grand Junction for more than 25 years, knows that a key is not just a key and a lock is not just a lock. Each lock and key has a specific purpose.
Similar to the fictional locksmith in the novel, Kaiser said it would be difficult to identify what a random key might open, unless it’s something obvious, such as a key for a mailbox or car.
He said he usually isn’t asked much about what a specific key might open.
At D.C. Lock & Key, 1685 Clymer Way, the business Kaiser owns with his wife, Connie, there is a wall of hooks with keys of every shape, size and age.
Above the shiny new automotive keys rimmed in durable plastic are older keys, tarnishing on their hooks.
After years of rescuing customers, Kaiser knows that people are more likely to lock themselves out of their car than their home, especially in the winter.
For a while, Kaiser carried copies of keys for repeat customers who regularly locked themselves out of things, he said.
He also didn’t hesitate to say that the average person probably carries three to six keys.
Kaiser was “drafted” into the locksmith business in 1983.
After Grand Junction’s oil shale bust in the ’80s, lenders needed someone to secure foreclosed houses. Kaiser became that person.
With tough times affecting this city again, Kaiser is expecting a repeat.
“Back then, so many people left properties, vandalism became a big problem,” he said.
He would not only change the locks on houses, but board them up, too.
“When times get real tough, we’re busy locking houses down,” he said.
It’s not something he seems happy to see, but it’s just the reality of the business.
These days, he’s being asked to make new keys for repossessed vehicles.
Despite the prevalence of keys, the future for traditional locksmiths looks bleak, with regular locks and keys making way for electronic card access, he said.
“Keys are slowly disappearing,” but not in his lifetime, Kaiser said.
It was Kaiser’s father, a real estate agent, who introduced him to key cutting.
The key cutter his father bought in the ’60s, when it was already more than 60 years old, still stands in Kaiser’s shop. And Kaiser uses it, evident by a dusting of brass shavings.
Kaiser collects “oddball keys,” such as really, really old keys and blank keys with something wrong with them.
“You don’t see keys milled wrong very often,” he said.
His favorite key is from the old Mesa County Jail. It’s sturdy and tough and artistically designed.
“You couldn’t break that key if you tried,” he said.
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