I feel so validated reading this. I am all that remains of my family of origin (since my 53rd year) which in itself is sad. But it’s my paternal grandparents who loom large in my house. Their books, desk, chair, plants, vases, and most preciously their piano and music books. I haven’t been able to play the piano in years due to rheumatoid arthritis but someone else in my children’s or grandchildren’s generation will have to be the ones that ultimately dispose of the old Clarendon spinet.
Thank you for supporting E. Jean. We have to. We have to vote. We have to vote local, state and national. I worry about our fragile democracy and nation.
Thanks for making me laugh- dead diamonds lost behind a toilet—haha! I have my father’s cremains in a box in my home office and my sister has our mother’s at her house - vaguely disturbing and strange to think of them converted so soon to inert elements as they continue to flourish in our hearts.
I, too love old things and old barns- childhood visits to my relatives’ farm in Watkins Glenn, NY, were my best memories. I can still smell the hay and old oil in the stored old vehicles they had. I have an old lacy dress from perhaps 1890 from their family’s house in town…. I treasure my old books, mishmash old furniture, and even use my silver some times. so relatable…. I’m never downsizing, over my dead body.
BTW My dad and two brothers went to Watkins Glen to watch the Grand Prix races. A man and his son were killed that day by a crash of some sort. My mother was frantic because she heard about it on the radio and had no way to reach my dad. That's a story without eer. Thank goodness for cell phones these days!
cremation gems. Oh, thank God, I read Ask Amy and other email early in my day, often while caffeinating. What i thought i read, at first, was "cremation PENS," Being recycled into a pen" lost; out of ink: chewed by the dog: collecting dust in the car, or sofa, or in some dark corner.. Now that would be a seriously depressing end-of-life plan. And a perfect waste of money.
I loved your story. Fascinating when I see how life and memories are so different when a family is rooted in one place as your is.
We are a family of memories not heirlooms. I think this is because my mother was a WWII war bride from Australia who married my father, a Navy officer, she met during the war.
She emigrated here during WWII after marrying my father. She left everything but her memories in Australia. She was not able to return for 40 years.
They settled in Southern California. Dad's family was poor and lived in Virginia. We did not travel to see them. Any heirlooms on either side were left in Virginia and Australia.
Stories and memories abound from their early years and those will live as long as I live and then fade away.
Thank you again for another thought provoking story.
Did your mother ever get back to Australia? I honestly cannot imagine the challenge of leaving one's homeland. Hold on to those stories and memories from that generation. Write them down!
It took 40 years and all of the kids to get out of the house before she was able to go back to Australia. She was able to visit 3 times before she died at 91 years.
I ,too, have inherited the 200-year-old farmhouse of my childhood, along with generations of heirlooms and antiques. A museum I visit each day, inhabited by various muses and ghosts of the family writers and artists who came before.
I'm 70 and beginning to think about what to do with (1) the heirlooms that have been passed down to me, and (2) what to do with those as well as the things that are precious to me, but probably no one else will want when I'm gone. My siblings already have plenty of our family's things when our parents dies, and my nieces and nephews don't want family history items.
I love old things…they spark my joy!! And Amy, I just love your writings and those of your contributors. Reading this felt like taking a deep, cleansing breath. I always feel better after reading your newsletter - thank you!!!❤️
Several years ago, after having cleaned out a dear friend's apartment--said dear friend was truly a hoarder--my husband and I have talked about "going Amish." (I might have posted about this before?) I realize that the things that I love(d) are not going to be the things that my children love. Several years ago I unpacked my wedding gown (which I could still wear!!) and said to my children, "I'll still be married to Dad if I move this out." The tricky thing is that I'm the one that has so many of the family memories (insert should shrug emoji here). The lovely husband is the sort that could lean out of the house, whistle, and furniture would come galloping at him. I control what I can and continue to live with the rest.
Haha I LOVE the image of your husband whistling and the furniture galloping out. Like you I feel like it is almost a constant issue keeping the tide of things at bay -- but I'm doing a pretty good job. It's a daily effort.
Wonderful! Sweet to hear! I have asked my cousin Carol Corwin for more info. on her father's side of the family, who have been there for many generations. They have some Welch blood I think... Best to you - I am sure you are enjoying the gorgeous summer!
Oh, Amy! I love this post so much. It's a part of who we are in this season of life called "our sixties" to come to terms with our belongings--in a variety of ways.
I spent most of the covid 2020 months cleaning out our attic. Then I spent 2021--my first year of retirement from a newspaper career--writing a memoir about the stories I found alongside the stuff. It's called: There's a Clydesdale in the Attic: Reflections on Keeping and Letting Go.
Thank you so much. BTW, the newspaper I worked for (31 years, and I still write a column), carries yours. There's a fun "angle" to the title. Hubby heard me working overhead (our attic is over our bedroom) early one morning and when I came downstairs, without lifting his head from the pillow, he said, "WHAT are you doing up there?" I said, "Cleaning out the attic!" He said, "It sounds like a Clydesdale up there stomping around!"
I feel so validated reading this. I am all that remains of my family of origin (since my 53rd year) which in itself is sad. But it’s my paternal grandparents who loom large in my house. Their books, desk, chair, plants, vases, and most preciously their piano and music books. I haven’t been able to play the piano in years due to rheumatoid arthritis but someone else in my children’s or grandchildren’s generation will have to be the ones that ultimately dispose of the old Clarendon spinet.
Thank you for supporting E. Jean. We have to. We have to vote. We have to vote local, state and national. I worry about our fragile democracy and nation.
Thanks for making me laugh- dead diamonds lost behind a toilet—haha! I have my father’s cremains in a box in my home office and my sister has our mother’s at her house - vaguely disturbing and strange to think of them converted so soon to inert elements as they continue to flourish in our hearts.
I, too love old things and old barns- childhood visits to my relatives’ farm in Watkins Glenn, NY, were my best memories. I can still smell the hay and old oil in the stored old vehicles they had. I have an old lacy dress from perhaps 1890 from their family’s house in town…. I treasure my old books, mishmash old furniture, and even use my silver some times. so relatable…. I’m never downsizing, over my dead body.
I spend a lot of time in beautiful Watkins Glen!! I recently went to the old Glen Theater for a movie. What an old timey treat!
Ermine Icing? eer-mine frosting? err-looms!
did you do that on purpose?
BTW My dad and two brothers went to Watkins Glen to watch the Grand Prix races. A man and his son were killed that day by a crash of some sort. My mother was frantic because she heard about it on the radio and had no way to reach my dad. That's a story without eer. Thank goodness for cell phones these days!
cremation gems. Oh, thank God, I read Ask Amy and other email early in my day, often while caffeinating. What i thought i read, at first, was "cremation PENS," Being recycled into a pen" lost; out of ink: chewed by the dog: collecting dust in the car, or sofa, or in some dark corner.. Now that would be a seriously depressing end-of-life plan. And a perfect waste of money.
I am the keeper of family heirlooms and wonder what will happen to them when I’m gone or who will want them? That will be up to someone else.
I completely understand this issue. And yes -- it will be up to someone else.
Always love reading you - in every form😎❤️
Thank you, Camille!
I loved your story. Fascinating when I see how life and memories are so different when a family is rooted in one place as your is.
We are a family of memories not heirlooms. I think this is because my mother was a WWII war bride from Australia who married my father, a Navy officer, she met during the war.
She emigrated here during WWII after marrying my father. She left everything but her memories in Australia. She was not able to return for 40 years.
They settled in Southern California. Dad's family was poor and lived in Virginia. We did not travel to see them. Any heirlooms on either side were left in Virginia and Australia.
Stories and memories abound from their early years and those will live as long as I live and then fade away.
Thank you again for another thought provoking story.
Robin Theilmann, La Mesa, CA
Did your mother ever get back to Australia? I honestly cannot imagine the challenge of leaving one's homeland. Hold on to those stories and memories from that generation. Write them down!
It took 40 years and all of the kids to get out of the house before she was able to go back to Australia. She was able to visit 3 times before she died at 91 years.
This is gorgeous!
I ,too, have inherited the 200-year-old farmhouse of my childhood, along with generations of heirlooms and antiques. A museum I visit each day, inhabited by various muses and ghosts of the family writers and artists who came before.
https://morningpagemashup.substack.com/p/sketchbook-stories-the-red-couch?r=78mjm&utm_medium=ios
I'm 70 and beginning to think about what to do with (1) the heirlooms that have been passed down to me, and (2) what to do with those as well as the things that are precious to me, but probably no one else will want when I'm gone. My siblings already have plenty of our family's things when our parents dies, and my nieces and nephews don't want family history items.
I love old things…they spark my joy!! And Amy, I just love your writings and those of your contributors. Reading this felt like taking a deep, cleansing breath. I always feel better after reading your newsletter - thank you!!!❤️
Thanks Amy! Each time I read your newsletter, I’m so glad I subscribed.
Several years ago, after having cleaned out a dear friend's apartment--said dear friend was truly a hoarder--my husband and I have talked about "going Amish." (I might have posted about this before?) I realize that the things that I love(d) are not going to be the things that my children love. Several years ago I unpacked my wedding gown (which I could still wear!!) and said to my children, "I'll still be married to Dad if I move this out." The tricky thing is that I'm the one that has so many of the family memories (insert should shrug emoji here). The lovely husband is the sort that could lean out of the house, whistle, and furniture would come galloping at him. I control what I can and continue to live with the rest.
Haha I LOVE the image of your husband whistling and the furniture galloping out. Like you I feel like it is almost a constant issue keeping the tide of things at bay -- but I'm doing a pretty good job. It's a daily effort.
Wonderful! Sweet to hear! I have asked my cousin Carol Corwin for more info. on her father's side of the family, who have been there for many generations. They have some Welch blood I think... Best to you - I am sure you are enjoying the gorgeous summer!
We are having a very rare and perfect summer so far. I've only had to wear my down vest while mowing the lawn one time (last week).
Oh, Amy! I love this post so much. It's a part of who we are in this season of life called "our sixties" to come to terms with our belongings--in a variety of ways.
I spent most of the covid 2020 months cleaning out our attic. Then I spent 2021--my first year of retirement from a newspaper career--writing a memoir about the stories I found alongside the stuff. It's called: There's a Clydesdale in the Attic: Reflections on Keeping and Letting Go.
So yes, you are speaking my language. Love it.
Donna -- congratulations on your book! I absolutely love the title and hope that family members will benefit from reading these stories.
Amy,
Thank you so much. BTW, the newspaper I worked for (31 years, and I still write a column), carries yours. There's a fun "angle" to the title. Hubby heard me working overhead (our attic is over our bedroom) early one morning and when I came downstairs, without lifting his head from the pillow, he said, "WHAT are you doing up there?" I said, "Cleaning out the attic!" He said, "It sounds like a Clydesdale up there stomping around!"
So yes, I am the Clydesdale in the attic.
Haha -- CLASSIC
This is sooooo good.
You are so supportive, Sherman. Thank you!
You’re welcome.