Wow, you've had a busy time, and so full, Nikki! Love that provocative question; it's so hard to let go of tangible reminders of family, and of ourselves. When disaster strikes, as it did with Hurricane Sandy in our area, and people say, "Oh, it's just stuff," I suppose that's true, but it was my precious Nana's stuff, and I wasn't ready to let go of it yet. Conversely, I'm sure my surviving family will wish I'd dealt with all my journals before I depart, since they're just full of written hand-wringing! Note to self...
Why, I wonder, did I save my grandmother's doilies, for example? Because my father found them important enough to carry back from England after his mother's passing? I am not a doily person! My daughter is not a doily person (so, I can't blame my decision on the desire to keep something precious or valuable so I can pass it along to the next generation). Yes, they are delicate and lovely in their own way but who cares if they are going to now sit in the bottom of the linen closet until... well, until I croak and my daughter consigns them to the local Thrift Store.
This is fascinating to me, how attached we are to things - or, more accurately, the memories of people who were once attached to those same items. It matters not whether the item has any actual monetary value - the reluctance to let go has nothing to do with cash value. Though, maybe if there was a hot market for ancient doilies the decision to let them go to new homes would be easier? What would I do with the spoils? Probably go to a bookstore and buy more books that someday my descendants will have to box up and get rid of...
Fully agree re. the journals, btw. It was wildly liberating to disassemble many of mine, feed the pages into the scanner, and then toss the paper evidence. One password change (or mass delete) when I'm on my deathbed and all that spewing will be forever gone.
Doilies are a hot topic, I've found. They're so delicate, take so much to make, people from the past cherished them, yet not many of us in this age are "doily types"! Myself included. I love the idea of doily spoils, and yes, you could go to the bookshop and get whatever you wanted!
I started keeping my journals in a Word Doc, writing them by hand using my Apple Pencil. Works like a charm! I get to journal as much as I want, I'm writing by hand, and, with one click, when I'm gone, they're gone. Now all I have to do is go through the analog ones! That's a project for another time...
Glad to read this new newsletter, and I'd join your religion!
This sounds like a fascinating treasure :) Not one to leave out in the rain… Is the love of the lump related in some way to your love of digging in the dirt and planting things?
When my mom died I rescued a little poodle ornament with pink hair that was the first gift I ever gave my mom. She kept it for 71 years...and now I will keep it safe for as long as I breath
This was fabulous! I am thrilled to be reading your saucy prose again. This line: "It was serious enough that the transgression made it to the box of secrets where, apparently, I kept all my problems."
I should like this kind of box. I bet the problems even STAY IN IT.
What am I hanging onto that my relatives will wonder about? Hmm. A skirt full of holes, baby teeth that have fallen to pieces, and a single strand of hair lovingly scavenged in the wake of an unrequited crush. No one said I wasn't a weird one.
A skirt full of holes. Oh, I love that. What makes that particular skit so special? Weirdly, I found a lock of my own hair in a letter I had sent to a love interest who saved my letters and years later handed them all back to me, hair included. Honestly, it was a bit creepy to have that fall out of the envelope as I prepped the letter for scanning.
Wow, you've had a busy time, and so full, Nikki! Love that provocative question; it's so hard to let go of tangible reminders of family, and of ourselves. When disaster strikes, as it did with Hurricane Sandy in our area, and people say, "Oh, it's just stuff," I suppose that's true, but it was my precious Nana's stuff, and I wasn't ready to let go of it yet. Conversely, I'm sure my surviving family will wish I'd dealt with all my journals before I depart, since they're just full of written hand-wringing! Note to self...
Just stuff. True - and yet.
Why, I wonder, did I save my grandmother's doilies, for example? Because my father found them important enough to carry back from England after his mother's passing? I am not a doily person! My daughter is not a doily person (so, I can't blame my decision on the desire to keep something precious or valuable so I can pass it along to the next generation). Yes, they are delicate and lovely in their own way but who cares if they are going to now sit in the bottom of the linen closet until... well, until I croak and my daughter consigns them to the local Thrift Store.
This is fascinating to me, how attached we are to things - or, more accurately, the memories of people who were once attached to those same items. It matters not whether the item has any actual monetary value - the reluctance to let go has nothing to do with cash value. Though, maybe if there was a hot market for ancient doilies the decision to let them go to new homes would be easier? What would I do with the spoils? Probably go to a bookstore and buy more books that someday my descendants will have to box up and get rid of...
Fully agree re. the journals, btw. It was wildly liberating to disassemble many of mine, feed the pages into the scanner, and then toss the paper evidence. One password change (or mass delete) when I'm on my deathbed and all that spewing will be forever gone.
Doilies are a hot topic, I've found. They're so delicate, take so much to make, people from the past cherished them, yet not many of us in this age are "doily types"! Myself included. I love the idea of doily spoils, and yes, you could go to the bookshop and get whatever you wanted!
I started keeping my journals in a Word Doc, writing them by hand using my Apple Pencil. Works like a charm! I get to journal as much as I want, I'm writing by hand, and, with one click, when I'm gone, they're gone. Now all I have to do is go through the analog ones! That's a project for another time...
Glad to read this new newsletter, and I'd join your religion!
I have a dirt lump I carved with a Popsicle stick into a guinea pig ... What a great souvenir for a descendant !
This sounds like a fascinating treasure :) Not one to leave out in the rain… Is the love of the lump related in some way to your love of digging in the dirt and planting things?
When my mom died I rescued a little poodle ornament with pink hair that was the first gift I ever gave my mom. She kept it for 71 years...and now I will keep it safe for as long as I breath
Oh Barbara - that’s a precious reminder of the connection you shared with your mom. Yep. Keep that one until the end :)
This was fabulous! I am thrilled to be reading your saucy prose again. This line: "It was serious enough that the transgression made it to the box of secrets where, apparently, I kept all my problems."
I should like this kind of box. I bet the problems even STAY IN IT.
What am I hanging onto that my relatives will wonder about? Hmm. A skirt full of holes, baby teeth that have fallen to pieces, and a single strand of hair lovingly scavenged in the wake of an unrequited crush. No one said I wasn't a weird one.
A skirt full of holes. Oh, I love that. What makes that particular skit so special? Weirdly, I found a lock of my own hair in a letter I had sent to a love interest who saved my letters and years later handed them all back to me, hair included. Honestly, it was a bit creepy to have that fall out of the envelope as I prepped the letter for scanning.
Relic from a passionate love affair ❤️🔥 (and one of the softest maxi skirts I’ve ever found—wore it to pieces)