Webster’s defines an heirloom as, “Something of special value handed on from one generation to another.”
As I ponder the meaning of heirlooms, I turn to the battered antique trunk at the foot of my bed. Its domed top and shiny brass accents shimmer in the late afternoon sunlight streaming through my bedroom window.
My husband bought the trunk at his great aunt’s estate sale several years ago. It is a beautiful old trunk. Battered, but sturdy, it cradles heirlooms handed down through five generations.
I flip the clasps open and lift the lid, letting the smell of old leather, musty books, and time gone by waft around me. For a moment, my gaze lingers on my treasures, old and new, before I reach for the baby clothes stacked on top.
I pull out dainty
smocked suits that my children wore home from the hospital; a pair of tiny,
hand crocheted booties; soft white and powdery blue blankets used to wrap my
newborn sons in. Memories of those precious days parade through my head as I
touch each object. I shake my head as I finger the baby clothes. It is hard to
believe either of my young men were ever small enough to wear the tiny garments
I hold in my hands.Underneath a soft baby blanket, I spot a baseball glove, its brittle leather over thirty years old. The glove brings back memories of a brother whose life was cut way too short. Memories of the time he threw a baseball straight up in the air because I had decided I couldn’t miss it if the ball fell on me. I missed—and got a busted nose for my effort. But it really wasn’t my brother’s fault. The whole thing had been my idea.
As I dig deeper, the keepsakes grow older. I pick up a hymnal, dated 1907, a relic inherited from my husband’s great-great aunt. Its care-worn pages are a testimony to the many times Aunt Mary Ann lifted her voice in song. I can just see a dozen or so stout country women dressed in their Sunday best, hats perched just so, sturdy shoes dusty from their trek to church, lifting their voices in song. The song in my head fades away as the hymnal is placed carefully to the side.
In the bottom, I find a
quilt. Not just an ordinary quilt—a special quilt—a quilt hand-stitched by my
mother’s mother. I’m not sure how old it is. My mother doesn’t know, and Mamaw
wouldn’t be able to tell us if she were alive.I do know that it is old, and worn, the fabric stiff and shiny in places, the binding threadbare, the lining torn. It isn’t beautiful. Its pieces aren’t mirror images of each other, intent on showing off some delicate pattern. It’s a hodgepodge of color, shapes, and sizes. Some pieces of fabric are long and narrow, brown. Others tan, triangular. I spot a few pieces of dull green here and there. But even now, it has a thick sturdiness that guarantees a cozy night’s sleep on a frigid winter night.
As my fingers glide
across the surface of the quilt, an image of my mother as a little girl,
snuggling under the quilt, flashes like a movie clip before my eyes. As quickly
as it appears, it’s gone. I sigh and lean over the edge of the trunk once
again.The afternoon shadows deepen as I examine each and every precious item in the trunk. I marvel at the black velvet pillbox hat with grosgrain ribbon Mamaw wore to church back in the 1940s. I touch the cool metal of Papaw’s pocket watch, the stiff softness of his brown felt hat. The label inside says Adam, Fifth Avenue Quality, long oval, and I wonder how many hats he tried on, how long he stood in the store, before he picked just the right hat, just the right style, to suit him.
When I’m done, I carefully pack everything away, my trip down memory lane creating more and more memories, expanding, like sweet rolls set out to rise. I gaze out the window, enjoying a quiet afternoon reminiscing.
These heirlooms speak to me somewhere down deep inside. Their value is special, just like Webster declared. I knew the man who wore the hat, the woman who hand-stitched the quilt, the young girl who grew up to be my mother.
I have the memories to prove it.
And that’s what makes an heirloom special.
~
Pam is thrilled to announce the release of her second
novel,
Claiming Mariah
Claiming Mariah Amazon link: http://tinyurl.com/apnzl5n
Claiming Mariah B&N link: http://tinyurl.com/ays6fq7
To celebrate, Pam is giving away two eReaders
(choice of Kindle Wi-Fi,
6" Display, or Nook Simple Touch)
Two Winners:
One on facebook. One through Pam’s Newsletter.
Registering
both places is not required but will double your chances of winning.
Also keep
in mind that you will receive updates more often
being connected on facebook
than through the newsletter. Just sayin’
Contest runs from January 1st until March 31st, 2013.
And....that’s not all! There will be prizes offered
randomly throughout the tour.
(3 Pewter Bookmarks from Deirdre’s Handmade Jewelry
PLUS 40% off coupon
at Deirdre’s online store.
Click link to register and for coupon code)
PREVIOUS STOP ON TOUR:
February 27th: Ginger Simpson
NEXT STOP ON TOUR:
March 1st: Audra Harders
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Personal blog: http://www.calicotrails.blogspot.com
12 comments:
Ahhh... Memories...more precious than gold!
Johnny, thanks for letting me visit your beautiful blog.
I knew I had to share Mamaw's pillbox hat here with you since your book is set in the 1940s! :)
I loved Claiming Mariah! :)
Lisa
Deiselbuffs@yahoo.ca
Lisa! Thank you for stopping by, and thank you for the kind words. So glad you enjoyed it. :)
I love looking at things from the past...Love this post.
I do too, Patricia. Gives me such a warm, fuzzy feeling, and makes me smile!
So glad you stopped by.
What wonderful, heartfelt memories, Pam. I so envy you having an heirloom trunk to store your precious prizes.
My folks immigrated to the United States during the war. Both families had to leave everything behind. What I wouldn't give for "hand-me-downs" LOL!
Thanks for sharing your memories!
Hello, everybody! I wasn't online at all yesterday because I attended the Florida Christian Writers Conference. But I so appreciate everyone's comments.
Pam, thank you very much for sharing your photos and special heirlooms. (I love the hat!)
Audra, I think that immigrating during those times took such courage but had to be heartbreaking. Where did your parents come from?
Hi Johnnie,
Both my parents immigrated from Lithuania, but didn't know each other at the time. The Russians had occupied the country and simply took my father's family's property, so they had no choice but to run. When Lithuania regained her independence in 1991, my dad began the process of reclaiming the family property. He succeeded. What do you do with 22 hectors of land in Lithuania? LOL! I haven't a clue. Hang on to a family legacy, I suppose.
I wish I had some tangible heirloom from either side of the family, especially since my parents died.
Oh wait! I have a deed to 22 hectors of land in Lithuania...
Thanks for asking : )
Audra, you might not have other treasures, but you have that land.
Oh, my goodness, what a heritage!
So proud of your father for fighting for his land when the time was right. YES to Papa!!!
Have you ever considered actually going to Lithuania and seeing it, or have you ever seen pictures?
Goodness, woman, within 30 seconds, I've got an entire series plotted and half-written about that land. :)
Audra, if you have photos of your Lithuanian land, please, please, please let me post them on this blog as a follow-up. And be on the lookout for Pam's next book . . . Claiming Lithuania!
I know very little about that part of history, but as I was resarching WWII, I read a nonfiction book by a woman who tried to reclaim her family's property in Poland. Fascinating story. (I'll have to look for the title.)
lol - Audra and I could do a Road Trip to Lithuania. Or maybe we should call it a Sky Trip.
Johnnie you would need to come along too. We could probably use your expertise and all the research you did on Europe for Where Treasure Hides.
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