LJ Idol 11 Week 17
“Are you sure you don’t want it? It’s an antique. Been in the family for a long time, handed down for generations.”
We’re downsizing - or attempting to anyway. Through the years, we’ve collected a ton of shit. I say shit, because when you get right down to it, it really is. Useless stuff that takes up a lot of space and is just meant to look pretty. Or it’s the dreaded “I’ll use it someday”, and after two or three uses it’s sits on a shelf or in a cabinet collecting dust (think juicer, rice cooker, in the egg scrambler, vegetti noodle maker, etc.). We really know it is shit because none of the kids want it. Which is fine, really. They all are pretty set up themselves - except my youngest, but he’s in a different world. Most of it will be going to thrift stores as donations for others to collect.
But…the antiques. Oof! I’m having such a hard time letting them go. And none of the kids want any of them. Not the cradle that my great-grandfather built for my grandfather. The one that has held five generations of babies as they slept, where the bloodhound puppy gnawed on the footboard. Not the fine china dish that has alone survived since the late 1800’s or the single pieces of Wedgewood and Lennox, or the crystal ink wells and paperweights. Not the pieced together beautiful bookshelf/desk combination that was crafted out of scrap wood yet still looks like it was a planned piece of furniture. The one I insisted my father bring all the way from my great aunt’s house in New Jersey when she passed away. I remember the conversation. He wasn’t going to bring it, but it was the one thing I asked for and I got angry that he wouldn’t. Not the glorious cherry armoire that could hide a television. Not the blond pine cabinet that houses the toys for our grandchildren. Nor the quilters table that has leaves so you can extend it as you craft/sew/quilt.
My daughter claimed the pieced together bookshelf/desk. She was going to paint it. (Paint it?! That will ruin it!!) We were storing it for her, but she doesn’t want it anymore. She doesn’t have room for it in her small townhouse. Someone else has asked for the curio cabinet that belonged to my husband’s grandmother. I can’t remember who because they haven’t asked again. My brother was going to take the armoire, but he doesn’t have room for it in his apartment. No one wants the china and knick-knacks. They just don’t appreciate their survival through the years.
It breaks my heart, because we really won’t have room for any of them in our small Nebraska house and I feel like we’re betraying the trust of past generations to take care of the pieces of their lives that they were able to pass to us. But it has to be done. I hold on to hope that someone else will find treasure in these pieces.
I think I’ll find space for the cradle though. It’s my favorite.
My granddaughter "pretending" in the cradle a few years ago. She was probably 5 or 6. You can't see where the dog used it as a chew toy.