1804 Trash or treasure?

In "Dear Abby's" column today, a very unsentimental reader asks how long are we expected to keep memorabilia? She had pitched all her baby albums and scrapbooks when she and her husband downsized--says she hadn't looked at them in 35 years. Now her mother (who obviously put all those albums together) is so angry, they aren't speaking.

So Abby (actually her daughter) notes it would have been nice to have offered other relatives those photos.

Maybe, but I think I know where mine will go. My kids aren't sentimental, and not only do I have our family's "stuff," I've rescued boxes of old photographs, family records, and glassware from relatives homes. When we moved here I gave my son his old Fischer Price toys. He sold them on e-Bay. I made them both their own photo albums from extras in 1975, and they are long gone.

So I've written this poem for our daughter, who is our Executor. Still, you can't control what other people do, and I know that, so I'll gradually sift, sort and give away. Maybe at our next downsizing.

To my daughter, about my treasures
August 29, 2005

I want you to have our paintings,
of flowers, children, boats and trees.
You’ll sit back and admire I know,
closing your eyes in a squint
to see the artist’s true intent.

I want you to have the books,
Bibles, histories, poetry and lit.
You’ll treat them well I know,
opening them from time to time
so their wisdom doesn’t go stale.

I want you to have the china,
silver, pottery, and goblets.
You’ll dine with them I know,
setting a lovely white linen table
as you continue the traditions.

I want you to have Aunt Martha’s quilts,
pieced and stitched by lantern light.
You’ll fold, touch and smooth I know,
positioning them on wooden racks
to display her detailed handiwork.

I want you to have the photographs,
albums from way back when.
You’ll wonder at your folks I know,
dancing and partying with their friends
when the whole world was young.

I want you to have Mom’s recipes,
sewing chest and maple suite.
You’ll puzzle where I know,
shifting and rearranging like I did
until they are welcomed in your home.

I want you to have our calico cat,
kitty toys, bowls and love.
You’ll feed, pet and groom I know,
holding her close at night
until she leaves to join us.

All the rest just haul away,
the auctioneer’s close, up the road.
You’ll get a good price I know,
banking the rest for a sunny day,
after you lock the door.

Technorati tag: memorabilia