Recently my eighteen year old granddaughter discovered the delight of going through her great-grandmother’s old trunk in the attic. She was particularly fond of Nonnie and many of the things had sentimental value. That did not hold true for the rabbit’s foot that she found. There wasn’t much left but something holding it together and the bones of the unfortunate bunny’s paw.
I have my father’s trunk. At one time when he was a single man, he slept above his grocery store. All he had was a bed, a cat and that trunk.
Through the years my mother tucked several things inside – their wedding clothes, a woman’s long cotton slip from around the turn of the century, the blanket we used for a pallet under a shade tree when I was a kid. (We would sit with a big bowl of salted ice to chomp on.)
One particular item caught my eye the other day and made me grin and think of all my Doper friends. When I was a little squirt in about 1950, I won one of those junior beauty reviews that were held in the spring. I’m dead set against them now, but back then nobody thought much about it. We wore plain dresses and there were no trophies. The winner was crowned and got to ride on a float in the Strawberry Festival.
It was the crown that was in the trunk and made me laugh. Our school couldn’t afford a fancy tiara. My crown was made out of cardboard and covered in Reynold’s aluminum wrap. There you have the proof – my very own fifty-five year old tinfoil hat!
My landlady in my last apartment was throwing out—well, not so much a “trunk” as a large wooden hatbox sort of thing. “It was my great-aunt’s; you want it?” I squealed like a nine-year-old at a slumber party and dragged it upstairs.
Hats! Hats from the 1920s (a classic velvet Clara Bow tam) through the 1930s, '40s and '50s (a mink circlet with a veil). I still have them all, though they don’t get worn nearly as often as they should.
I love trunks, especially old ones. I have acquired several over the years.
My ‘coffee table’ is actually an old steamer trunk, complete with decals from hotels and cruise lines to cover the cuts and tears. It’s on casters so it rolls about freely, very handy.
I also have a cedar chest and a couple of other trunks in the attic, including an old one that I got from my spouses old auntie when her house was cleared out after she passed. No one wanted it. I was over the moon.
Inside was only one small specialty box. I thought it was jewelery at first glance. But it was a large set of instruments, for drafting is my best guess. I’m still not really sure, I have them still. I mean someone went to the trouble of keeping them for many, many years. What? Am I going to get rid of them ? I think not.
Of course now I have them each packed with junkola odd and curious in nature. I feel a little pressure. It makes me smile though to think that after I go someone will have to search through the attic and uncover each of them. When I get a little older I intend to jam them with truly strange things as preparation for this very time.
I love trunks! Whenever I see one I want to know what’s inside.
An antique drafting tools? Cool. Look around on Ebay and you may find out you have something pretty valuable. I know that many doctors collect antique medical supplies and you may find that architects do the same. I’m a drafter and I would love to see what you have in there. Scales (ruler-type things), compasses, straight edge, french curve, etc. are going to be similiar to their modern counterparts while slide rules are going to be rarer.
We have an old trunk in our living room that acts as a sort of table, except we usually don’t set things on it except decorations.
It’s not the contents of the trunk that is interesting, but the trunk itself! It’s about 4 feet long, two feet wide and two feet tall. My great-great-grandfather brought it over from Sweeded, and everything he owned was in that trunk. He made the trunk himself. It’s a very beautiful and interesting piece of our family history, and it’s completely original. It has the original iron handles and rivets and everything.
That thing is so heavy by itself, I can’t imagine hauling it halfway across the world when it was full!
