What treasures do you find in a house that’s been occupied by the same couple for fifty years and who did not readily throw things away? And who determines what’s a treasure and what’s not? We found out this last week while engaged in Round 2 of emptying the folks’ house that us three siblings all have different ideas of what are treasures. We laughed at our youngest sibling that went back through the trash bags and thrift boxes that us older two had filled.
When it came to picking out a few memorabilia items that each of us wanted to take home it seemed easy enough because we all had different interests and memories. For one of his treasures, my brother Dave chose a very heavy antique tool box belonging to my great grandfather that neither Connie or I would have been able to lift had we wanted it. Dave knew the history of it and that it had sat under Dad’s work bench for fifty years; Connie and I had no idea.
I was mostly interested in some of the colorful, pretty dishes that Mom kept in her china closet. Many of these pieces belonged to my grandmothers and great grandmothers. I could picture each piece stately sitting in the curio cabinet I don’t yet have. My favorite piece of glassware however, was not fancy, but something we used every day. The “ears of corn” salt and pepper shakers that Mom and Dad received for a wedding gift now sit on top of my kitchen stove.
Connie had her eye on a beautiful flowered antique lamp that belonged to the great grandparents. With a creative eye, she also latched onto her great grandma’s rocking chair; broken and sitting askew. I don’t see it, but she is sure it will make a memorable quilt rack. She gave Dave and me explicit instructions not to throw away the one foot square mirror hanging by the sink in the basement. She recognized it as the same one in the childhood picture of Dad.
I took a stroll one afternoon out behind the shop. I lugged back two cream cans that brought back memories of Dad milking cows, Mom running the separator and filling the cream cans to take to town to sell. The folks have told us since, that the money they got from the cream is what bought our gas money to make it the 30 miles to church on Sundays. I thought about the radio that Dad always had going while he milked and of the cats that were always underfoot – hoping for a squirt of warm milk right from the teat.
Mom didn’t come out to the ranch house while we did our housecleaning, but she was involved no less. She would call us from “The Cottonwood” almost every night, asking if we had found this or that. And yes, Mom…we did find your doll you played with as a girl. (See below.)
As exhausting as the week was it also brought with it blessings. Many memories were hashed through – bringing smiles, laughs, and a gladness for the wonderful childhoods the three of us had.
