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