Same here...need I say more. It does make me sad but yet I understand. Life moves forward not backwards. I am learning to live in the moment and to let go.
Again: you hit me where it stings (but in a good way). The description of parting with family treasures is so relatable! I haven’t actually done it yet, except in my head. I look at the plastic tubs filled with collections from days gone by and I wonder where they’ll end up. I have five sons with families, but even so, there’s more than they will need or want. It is simply comforting to hear others’ experience with such things.
I feel that I’m only repeating what others have said, but still…even that is comforting.
Your writing is always so beautiful, Mary. Thoughtful, enlightening, inspiring, gutting. I adore seeing you in my inbox. I'm very glad you have found a home here, and that you periodically invite us into yours. We are lucky to know you.
This essay is exquisite, like the dishes stacked on the bottom of the pile, rarely used, and perfect in color and texture; or like the meal prepared to be worthy of them. In my fifties, my taste for fine china has come back, decades dormant, and it makes me ridiculously happy to handle every saucer and cup. This essay is just as fine and delicate.
Lovely as always, Mary. I wonder if the interest in old things will shift again with next generation of young people? I think my kids are rather fond of all the dishes and glasses. I just have to curb my impulse to clean out and clear out so I don't unload the things they'll want someday. My daughter and I share an almost unhinged love of tiny bowls. Hmm, there might be a poem in there somewhere. Sending hugs, as always. Wish we could have dinner together. 💕
Tara, yes. I simply can’t get rid of the things I chose with such care. I did give some dinnerware in a BuyNothing group. Now I want them back! Sigh. There is a poem in those tiny bowls; it brings me joy just to read those words. Dinner would be lovely. Or afternoon tea. Thank you for your kind words, my friend. xoxo
Mary, This is such a lovely essay. I am starting to downsize again and know that some of my treasured belongings will go to Goodwill or elsewhere. My daughter thankfully wants some of my treasures but no all. Many things I hate to part with. It's such a dilemma.
Pamela, thank you for your generous words. I’ve lived in my house for 38 years, so I’ve got truckloads of stuff to get rid of. But it’s so hard. My husband was a real craftsman. He made beautiful furniture. Too much of it. So it’s a big dilemma right there. You’re lucky that your daughter will take at least some things off your hands.
Mary, it is so hard to part with things. I totally get it. I have haul my mother’s bedroom set back and forth across the country as did my mother years ago. That is one of the things my daughter wants. it is so battered buy loved. That said I have an inkling about how you feel about the furniture your husband made. Sending hugs your way.
So full of truth and heartache. I hesitate to begin a reply fearing it will turn to essay. Our offspring are accustom to easy replacement; grew up on flagrant consumption as a lifestyle, a cultural norm. I fear those days are drawing near a close. The value of good enough; the fear of scarcity are bearing down on us. Which brings me to the sweet and tender value of your treasures. They hold not only memories (our shorthand "grandma's bread tray") but the ghost of their touch lingering on the rim. Love how you invoke that, the wabi sabi investing that much more value in "all the things." More importantly, my heart hurts as you bear witness to your daughter's tenacity and suffering. I'm painfully familiar with that particular heartache. Another commonality, and apologies if I've mentioned it before. Stay the course. You're beyond "good enough."
MissAnne, such lovely remarks. These are troubling times. I find meaning, as do you, in the deep emotional associations we invest in objects, based on their history, provenance, and the connections we’ve developed with them over time. All grief is layered. Even the loss of a cherished idea, such as “Of course my daughter will love the things I love!” Is a kind of grief that can hit hard. “The ghost of their touch lingering on the rim”: says it perfectly. In the absence of a willing inheritor, I can only look for another way to share these stories. Thank you, my dear sister in grief, for stopping by with your insights, and your empathy. 🫶💕
So beautiful...and so familiar. I became the Keeper of the Family Treasures in my late twenties. And I always believed I'd pass the beloved dishes, silverware and pieces of furniture on to the next generation. But, like your children, no one wanted them. How times change!
Julie, thank you. I’m glad this struck a chord. I’m still hopeful to find someone in the family who gets it, even though it may not be my own children. I’m working on the truly valuable things: the steamer trunk from my great-grandmother’s journey from Norway, the handmade doll cradle and sewing chest, the engraved wedding rings. Maybe, someday.
Sometimes it's the next generation, beyond our kids. And my own children eventually surprised me by wanting a couple of small things (once they had children of their own). Fingers crossed!
Mary, I just received an order from Replacements last week. The only things my daughter takes are my pie plates, serving platters and all my Tupperware except for a set of canisters. I have given sets of dishes now to my granddaughters. I bought a stoneware set of everyday dishes recently which I keep dropping and breaking because of the weight. That’s one way to get rid of them. I need to make decluttering my kitchen and china cabinet a higher priority.
I always look forward to reading your post. You were bestowed a well deserved recognition.
Monica, thank you! Isn’t it funny that your daughter wants Tupperware? But I remember now that I have quite a bit of hers. And those wonderful deep Pyrex pie plates that are no longer being made. Your daughter’s a smart woman. Replacements is too big a temptation for me. I decided not to pay $95 for a full-lead Dansk Facette double old fashioned, even though it sparkles like Waterford. Or a Rosernthal vase that is a a work of art. I love your strategy of breaking heavy things. Will consider it.
Your writing never ceases to amaze me, how do you know what is going on in my head as well as in my much treasured china cupboard. A cupboard ( I was told by my parents was made by a great uncle) My children have made it clear they do not want the cupboard or the contents.
Each piece of china and glass has a special memory for me but not for them.
What will happen to it all, I can't bear to think.!!
Jenny, you’re so kind! And yes, it’s sad when you have the memories and stories that you want to share, along with the beautiful things, and no one wants them. Hard to accept. 😔
I held this back to read at the end of my literary meal -- the perfect dessert -- and I'm so glad I did. Now, I am sated by what good writing nourishingly provides.
Love this. I have a big house full of treasures things nobody wants.
And here I thought it was just me.
Same here...need I say more. It does make me sad but yet I understand. Life moves forward not backwards. I am learning to live in the moment and to let go.
me too, and my kid sold everything and moved to Europe. it turns out I'm 100% okay with it.
Your writing is restful and poignant. I just turned 70 and can relate to this so much. Thank you. Be well.
Again: you hit me where it stings (but in a good way). The description of parting with family treasures is so relatable! I haven’t actually done it yet, except in my head. I look at the plastic tubs filled with collections from days gone by and I wonder where they’ll end up. I have five sons with families, but even so, there’s more than they will need or want. It is simply comforting to hear others’ experience with such things.
I feel that I’m only repeating what others have said, but still…even that is comforting.
Thank you, Mary.
So relatable! Daughter says, "No thanks ,but I'll be glad to make a run to Goodwill for you." (Um, thanks honey?)
Kids these days!
One of my daughters asks me to take her excess to Goodwill since she doesn’t drive…
🤣
Too bad we aren’t neighbors… you wouldn’t scare me a bit❣️
😊Karen, I would love to have you as a neighbor. I could serve you dinner on my best dishes.
Your writing is always so beautiful, Mary. Thoughtful, enlightening, inspiring, gutting. I adore seeing you in my inbox. I'm very glad you have found a home here, and that you periodically invite us into yours. We are lucky to know you.
Michele, you are so kind. Thank you for making my day.
Ah! Well, you made mine. So I am happy to repay the favor. 💙
🫶💕
This essay is exquisite, like the dishes stacked on the bottom of the pile, rarely used, and perfect in color and texture; or like the meal prepared to be worthy of them. In my fifties, my taste for fine china has come back, decades dormant, and it makes me ridiculously happy to handle every saucer and cup. This essay is just as fine and delicate.
Tara, what a lovely comment. I find joy in the things that people consider mundane, and I would love to have you over for dinner! 🌹
I would exclaim and purr over every dish. 🥰
Lovely as always, Mary. I wonder if the interest in old things will shift again with next generation of young people? I think my kids are rather fond of all the dishes and glasses. I just have to curb my impulse to clean out and clear out so I don't unload the things they'll want someday. My daughter and I share an almost unhinged love of tiny bowls. Hmm, there might be a poem in there somewhere. Sending hugs, as always. Wish we could have dinner together. 💕
Tara, yes. I simply can’t get rid of the things I chose with such care. I did give some dinnerware in a BuyNothing group. Now I want them back! Sigh. There is a poem in those tiny bowls; it brings me joy just to read those words. Dinner would be lovely. Or afternoon tea. Thank you for your kind words, my friend. xoxo
Mary, This is such a lovely essay. I am starting to downsize again and know that some of my treasured belongings will go to Goodwill or elsewhere. My daughter thankfully wants some of my treasures but no all. Many things I hate to part with. It's such a dilemma.
Pamela, thank you for your generous words. I’ve lived in my house for 38 years, so I’ve got truckloads of stuff to get rid of. But it’s so hard. My husband was a real craftsman. He made beautiful furniture. Too much of it. So it’s a big dilemma right there. You’re lucky that your daughter will take at least some things off your hands.
Mary, it is so hard to part with things. I totally get it. I have haul my mother’s bedroom set back and forth across the country as did my mother years ago. That is one of the things my daughter wants. it is so battered buy loved. That said I have an inkling about how you feel about the furniture your husband made. Sending hugs your way.
Hugs to you, Pamela.❤️🫶
So full of truth and heartache. I hesitate to begin a reply fearing it will turn to essay. Our offspring are accustom to easy replacement; grew up on flagrant consumption as a lifestyle, a cultural norm. I fear those days are drawing near a close. The value of good enough; the fear of scarcity are bearing down on us. Which brings me to the sweet and tender value of your treasures. They hold not only memories (our shorthand "grandma's bread tray") but the ghost of their touch lingering on the rim. Love how you invoke that, the wabi sabi investing that much more value in "all the things." More importantly, my heart hurts as you bear witness to your daughter's tenacity and suffering. I'm painfully familiar with that particular heartache. Another commonality, and apologies if I've mentioned it before. Stay the course. You're beyond "good enough."
MissAnne, such lovely remarks. These are troubling times. I find meaning, as do you, in the deep emotional associations we invest in objects, based on their history, provenance, and the connections we’ve developed with them over time. All grief is layered. Even the loss of a cherished idea, such as “Of course my daughter will love the things I love!” Is a kind of grief that can hit hard. “The ghost of their touch lingering on the rim”: says it perfectly. In the absence of a willing inheritor, I can only look for another way to share these stories. Thank you, my dear sister in grief, for stopping by with your insights, and your empathy. 🫶💕
I'm also a widow with too much stuff that no one wants, love your writing
My condolences on your loss, Patricia. Thank you for your kind words. I’m glad that this resonated with you.🙏
So beautiful...and so familiar. I became the Keeper of the Family Treasures in my late twenties. And I always believed I'd pass the beloved dishes, silverware and pieces of furniture on to the next generation. But, like your children, no one wanted them. How times change!
Julie, thank you. I’m glad this struck a chord. I’m still hopeful to find someone in the family who gets it, even though it may not be my own children. I’m working on the truly valuable things: the steamer trunk from my great-grandmother’s journey from Norway, the handmade doll cradle and sewing chest, the engraved wedding rings. Maybe, someday.
Sometimes it's the next generation, beyond our kids. And my own children eventually surprised me by wanting a couple of small things (once they had children of their own). Fingers crossed!
Oh Mary. Thank you.
X. P., thank you. This means the world to me, coming from you. I’m deeply honored.
This is wonderful. I cherished my own memories as I related to yours.
Thank you, Liz. I’m so glad we’ve connected.
Mary, I just received an order from Replacements last week. The only things my daughter takes are my pie plates, serving platters and all my Tupperware except for a set of canisters. I have given sets of dishes now to my granddaughters. I bought a stoneware set of everyday dishes recently which I keep dropping and breaking because of the weight. That’s one way to get rid of them. I need to make decluttering my kitchen and china cabinet a higher priority.
I always look forward to reading your post. You were bestowed a well deserved recognition.
Monica, thank you! Isn’t it funny that your daughter wants Tupperware? But I remember now that I have quite a bit of hers. And those wonderful deep Pyrex pie plates that are no longer being made. Your daughter’s a smart woman. Replacements is too big a temptation for me. I decided not to pay $95 for a full-lead Dansk Facette double old fashioned, even though it sparkles like Waterford. Or a Rosernthal vase that is a a work of art. I love your strategy of breaking heavy things. Will consider it.
Your writing never ceases to amaze me, how do you know what is going on in my head as well as in my much treasured china cupboard. A cupboard ( I was told by my parents was made by a great uncle) My children have made it clear they do not want the cupboard or the contents.
Each piece of china and glass has a special memory for me but not for them.
What will happen to it all, I can't bear to think.!!
Jenny, you’re so kind! And yes, it’s sad when you have the memories and stories that you want to share, along with the beautiful things, and no one wants them. Hard to accept. 😔
Write. Start with your most cherished item and simply write about its meaning to you.
You are important and your memories related to your items are important.
The thing is not the most important thing 😉
So true, Matuga! It’s the stories, not the objects, that matter.
I wish my mom had kept those old Pyrex dishes for me!
Jenna, they are treasures, aren’t they? Did not appreciate them as a kid. But I do now, and happy that my daughter does, too.
You never know what will be appreciated ❤️
I have 4 red ones that I love because of the lids. I put "stuff" in the stack and sometimes remember where the stuff is 😉
😊🤣🫶
So true!😊
I held this back to read at the end of my literary meal -- the perfect dessert -- and I'm so glad I did. Now, I am sated by what good writing nourishingly provides.
Kim, I’m honored. Thank you.🙏