Thought of this today, when I left my pink earrings at the gym. Frantic phone call ensued.
Grandfather, long gone, bought those for me when I was about 16. Pink, FCS, but I had a pink skirt and he thought they’d be just right. They couldn’t have cost even $10; just cheap costume, but man, when I realized I’d left them, I was so upset.
And then it occured to me. I keep a lot of strange things from people I’ve lost. And they’re more precious to me than anything valuable.
My Dad’s wallet-I use it every day; it’s my wallet, and has been for over 10 years. A typical men’s brown leather wallet.
My Grandmother’s rosary. I am not religious, and truth is, I never got along with her. (Once when I was teasing my little sister, she called me an ox, took off her slipper, and beat me with it) But I know it was in her hands everynite.
My other Gran and I had photos taken in a fun park photobooth when I was about 10. She and I mugging it up for the camera. She framed all four in a little frame, and I wouldn’t part with it.
A piece of a wooden lobster trap a dear friend found while on vacation the year before he died. I hang it on the wall-it looks strange, but I love it.
Do you have any seemingly weird momentos you treasure?
My father had these cowboy boots(he certainly was never a cowboy- they must have been in fashion sometime before I was born). When I was really little, we used to go for walks on this little dirt road that always had a puddle along one side, and he’d use his big heels to dig up rocks for me to throw in the puddle, which endlessly amused me. I didn’t have the greatest relationship with him as I grew up, and he died when I was 19, but looking at those boots brings me back to a time before all that, when we were pals.
I’m living in the house that my family moved into in 1958, so the entire house is bursting at the seams with all kinds of things accumulated over that 55 years. And since both of my parents were artists - and so am I - I’ve got 10x the amount of art work than I have walls to hang it on.
But there’s one thing that’s not from them, but from my maternal grandfather. It’s a cane. The handle of it is a real goat’s horn, and between the handle and the shaft of the cane is a goat’s hoof, complete with the ankle hair. He bought it, I think back in the '20s or '30s, on a trip to Cuba. He loved to travel, especially if he could bring back something freaky . . . like shrunken heads. I think another relative has them.
Anyway . . . I’ve actually used that cane recently, to help with my knee problems.
My grandmother died in 1995. I took all of her Tupperware bowls, 7 of them. I eat my cereal out of them almost every morning, and have since then. I think I have a couple of her forks and spoons as well, but over the years they have gotten mixed up so I don’t know. I also kept her salt and pepper shaker, which I still use as well.
I have a few things of my mother’s, though none are usable. I have a a few wooden giraffes, some glassware and a few other things.
Other then that I really don’t really have a whole lot of things like that.
I have several things of my father’s that I’m not intentionally hanging onto so much as I’m just not able to throw out, like his wallet and eyeglasses and a tiny New Testament. The one belonging of his I consciously hang onto out of sentiment is his old Commodore 64.
When my parents died a month apart in 98, my wife and I ended up with their 2 quilted shirt-jackets. We still wear them regularly today (and they weren’t new when we got them!)
I knew they died in 98, because I keep their obits in my wallet.
I have one of my dad’s old belts that I wear often. The buckle has his inits - which are the same as mine.
I have his father’s pocket watch, which I intend to give to my son sometime - possibly when/if he gets married to his current longtime GF.
When my parents died, my 3 sisters and I drew numbers 1-4 and simply took turns choosing items we wanted. Seemed to work really well, as we were each assured of getting some of the things that were most meaningful to us. I got a covered brass bowl and a decorative ashtray that were always out in my parents’ house, and I see them every day.
My dad was a machinist, and I got a bunch of his tools. The one I use regularly is his old stainless Craftsman 1/4" drill. I remember him rewinding the brushes and replacing the cord on that thing. My wife has stopped asking me why I don’t use the newer, more powerful cordless DeWalt!
I haven’t been that close to my extended family. My mom’s parents lived in England, so when they died, I wasn’t horribly shattered; I don’t particularly have any keepsake from them.
My dad’s parents died before I was born.
Both my parents are still alive, but I expect they probably won’t be ten years from now, as they are elderly and their health is deteriorating. I wonder what momentos I will keep from them…
When my maternal grandfather passed away and I was asked what I wanted to remember him by, the decision was easy - some of his books. He wasn’t a material person, so none of his “things” triggered any emotional response. What I remember most of him is his love of reading, learning and his ecclectic interests. It’s not the books in and of themselves that are odd, it’s the mix of subject matter - religion, old law books, time and motion study texts from the 1930’s (precursors to LEAN, Six Sigma, etc), self published books (authored by himself and others he had met), slightly bawdy jokes and limericks, birding, psychology, hymnals, poetry, forestry - the list goes on. He was an amazing man.
My Grandmother had an object I remember being on her desk. It is a three-sided plaque with differerent words in different fonts: RELAX, KEEP TENSE, and SCHEME.
I change it depending on my moods from day to day.
There are little things that are still in the same place that they were when my late boyfriend passed away like a ticket stub for the Smithees from Origins which is in the pocket of the van door and the D10 laying on the floor of the van, stuck in one of the grooves of the seat track. Oh, and then there’s the recently acquired walking stick from the wooded area where we spread his ashes.
I have my dad’s belt and buckle that he wore daily. Very plain wide dark brown leather belt. The buckle is largish, with his employer’s logo on it. My mom used to get annoyed with him - he would wear it to work every day, then wear it to church on Sunday (“Oh, Bob! Wear your nice belt!”). He wore it with jeans or a suit - he didn’t care. The sad part of looking at it is how the notches wore as he lost weight due to cancer. I also have the mukluks I bought for him his last Xmas. He wore them only a few times before he died. Every once in a while I’ll wear them just for comfort.
I have the most hideous candy dish from my Grandma. It was a sore thumb decoration in their living room of mid 60’s mod furniture. On their kidney shaped glass coffee table always sat this covered dish, porcelain, 3-D flowers/vines in faded colors all over the lid. It was my first stop in their house, for a piece of ribbon candy or a mint (you know, granparent candy). I now keep it in my room with other little bits of memories in it - a ring of hers, a snipping of TheKid’s first curls, my high school ring - that kind of stuff.
I have a bunch of little things from my Grandpa, most cherished is a tie between his father’s immigration certificate and a few of his daily notebooks. Little leatherbound pocket notebooks from the 20’s - 30’s where he’d just make notes of people he talked to, notes for the day, etc.
Lots of dumb things. My Dad’s “speed wrench” for his sockets. He could get it into spots that were impossible and make it fly.
Gramma Rose’s coffee cup from the last 40 years of her life. It was never more than 2 steps away from her.
When my father-in-law’s dad passed away, he brought his wallet home and put it in a drawer. We found it cleaning out things after his death and now have it and his wallet in our safe - just the way they were with money and ID and all intact.
An egg shaped rock. From my mother’s mother. She married at 15, gave birth 15 times, no running water, indoor plumbing or electricity. They lived on a subsistence farm and heated the rock and put it under chickens to get them to lay or nest, I think.
She lived next to an egg farm, I remember going to get eggs (when she was older and the kids and chickens were long gone from her humble shack!), and watching them be candled. Her shack was eventually replaced by one of her sons. She seized the opportunity to rid herself of all the ‘old’ stuff and get new modern crap furniture to replace it! But she kept the rock egg, and when she passed my Mom took it. And when she passed, it was one of the few things I took from her house. Clearing out the house with my siblings was a weird experience as I spent most of my time saying, “No, really, I don’t want any of that stuff, truly!” However I treasure my egg above most of my possessions.
The silliest thing is probably my gramma’s refrigerator magnets. Cheap plastic and not even cute. Just something I saw all my life that I still get to see everyday and think of her.
My mom has a foot pillow thing that she gave my gramma the Christmas before she died. We found it in her closet and mom won’t get rid of it because she says it has her breath in it still. 20 years later and it still does!
My grandparents died in a house fire which took care of most of the mementos so the ones I do have I am a little nutty about protecting.
The fire was in the middle of my sophomore year of college. Even though I was only about 10 miles away my grandfather had given me a card on his American Express account “for emergencies”. I never used it, not even once. It’s a gold card with my name on it and it says “Member since 1958” which amused me no end because I was born in 1968.
Of my grandmother’s I have a kitchen spoon unlike any you can buy today. It’s some sort of plastic. the edge of the bowl of the spoon in razor thin. I posted recently about my grandma teaching me to cook. This particular spoon was involved. I only use it for baking. My son knows it’s not for stirring koolaid or pasta sauce.
I also have a book that she gave him for his 20th birthday with an inscription. The were born 5 days apart and were married a month after their 21st birthdays. I don’t know if they were already engaged when she gave him the book. My impression was always that there wasn’t a lot of time between deciding to get married and getting married. It was a weekday event at a small chapel. She wore a suit, not a big poufy white dress.
From my dad’s parents I have a few things, but more standard in the arena of heirlooms. Some crystal S&P shakers and some pewter.
When my mom died in 2011, my dad said I could pretty much take whatever I wanted of hers. There wasn’t really that much I wanted (she collected lots of costume jewelry and figurines and stuff) but I did make a special point to take two things:
A small bottle with a cork stopper and violets painted on the front. I’m pretty sure she had it before I was born and it used to contain perfume, but I never remember it containing anything. All I know is that I used to pull out the stopper and sniff the bottle, and it smelled like violets. It kind of still does, if you use your imagination a bit. It’s probably the thing that reminds me the most of her.
A tiny toy that came out of a vending machine when I was about 6 years old. It’s about 1/2" tall, white, and has a head that resembles Hello Kitty (but it isn’t HK) on a tiny barrel-shaped body. The eyes are on stalks and when you lean it over, they pop out of its head. We always called it “Kitty Eyes.” I’m still amazed that she managed to hang on to it after all these years, since it’s so small and since I coveted it when I was little (she wouldn’t let me have it because she was afraid I’d lose it. She was probably right.)
My grandmother died a couple of years ago. After the funeral, my mother, aunt, cousins, and brother gathered at her apartment to start divvying stuff up. (It was a tiny bit creepy.) She had some nice things, but nothing especially valuable. One cousin wanted a particular piece of jewelry, another wanted the china, etc. The thing that I most wanted was my grandmother’s pie tupperware. Every Thanksgiving and Christmas, she’s show up with several pies stacked neatly in her nifty carrier. It’s the item that reminds me the most of her. I ended up with lots of other stuff, too, but that’s probably my favorite “inheritance.”
My cousin’s copy of the Great Gatsby, with her name and address inscribed on the inside jacket. It’s a cheap paperback, and I won’t have it forever (it’s already split into several chunks) but it’s hers, and I used it to death, teaching from it, marking passages in it, making a movie out of it. Someday it will just fall apart, but then so will I.