i can’t keep everything

I have plenty of historic stuff already, stuff inherited or stuff from my childhood, yet I keep saying yes when offered more stuff. Last week, thanks to the generosity of my cousin “HK,” I added a couple of quilts, photos, jewelry, and my grandparents’ framed Certificate of Marriage, circa 1901, to my growing collection of ancestral treasures.


Still, I can’t keep everything. So I’ve taken to taking pictures as a way of archiving my stuff.

Sweater.booties I wore as a babe

Like this sweater and booties set I wore as a baby. No good reason to keep them, but the picture is fun.

Grandma LeMaster's quilt

Or the quilt my grandma made for me when I was a child. There’s no batting and it has stains, so I think I like the picture better than the real thing. It warms my heart and helps me remember that my grandma loved me.


But when Quinn saw this picture of my childhood doll, she was sure she needed the real thing, not just a picture. So I delivered it in person a couple of visits back.

And while I was at it, I took this “real thing,” if only for the fun/shock value.


Frank is her grandfather, Paul’s dad. He keep really did everything. When we cleaned out his attic, we found burned-out lightbulbs that he had replaced in their original corrugated wrapper, each marked with the lamp it had lit, dated when it was installed, and when its filament expired. We also found an opium pipe! I’m afraid that story ended with Frank.


And I’m afraid his teeth have bit the dust. What do you think? Did I keep these?

This entry was posted in family matters, nostalgia. Bookmark the permalink.

3 Responses to i can’t keep everything

  1. Walt says:

    Any gold fillings in those teeth?

  2. Ridge says:

    I think the teeth would make a great necklace for Etsy! 🙂

  3. Carolyn Staples says:

    I have just spent the greater part of THREE days going through a whole box of letters my parents wrote to each other from 1030-36! I didn’t read every one, but the ones I did enlightened my greatly of their courtship and building spiritually for the great marriage they had. I’m learning tidbits about friends and relatives I didn’t know about before. I have a letter written by my father’s mother just two months before her death at age 50,. in 1933, five years before I was born.. It felt sacred to see her handwriting and read her words.

    Once I get them sorted, labeled, and put in a sturdier box from the deteriorating Nathpa soap box, then what?!!!

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