For my birthday several years ago, I asked my aunt if I could look through two wooden trunks she owns. I knew my grandma’s keepsakes were in them, but I had never seen what was inside. A few other family members came over to my aunt’s house that day. The trunks were in a spare bedroom. People hung out in the kitchen or living room when they wanted, and came into the bedroom at intervals to see what was being unearthed.
Some of the treasures:
– a wool shawl with a note pinned to it, saying it belonged to my great-great-grandparents in 1872, the year those relatives sailed to America
– an antique curling iron. It looks like a modern curling iron, only thinner and with a wooden handle. And of course, no cord or plug.
– crafts my grandma and other family members made: needlepoint pillow covers, crocheted afghans, latch hook rugs, wood burned pictures
– Easter eggs I had decorated decades earlier. I had no idea that hard boiled eggs, if left alone, dry out and can be preserved! The innards sounded like they’d dried into a ball, and when I shook the egg (gently), I could hear that ball hitting the thick, heavy shell.
– decorations I had made by wrapping latex balloons in papier mache and then painting them to look like Easter eggs
– handmade cards my brother and I had given my grandparents when we were kids
– my aunt’s curly hair. When she was young, my aunt’s hair was naturally curly. I had heard that my grandma saved some of it once, after giving my aunt a haircut, because it was so pretty. I was thinking she’d saved a ringlet or two. There was a whole bag of hair- enough to make a wig out of!
– clippings of my dad’s hair when he was a little kid, when it was blonde. And clippings of my grandma’s red hair from those same years.
– assignments from my dad’s art classes in college
– notebooks from classes my dad took in the army
– newspaper clippings featuring family members (usually in group photos relating to their workplace or civic organizations they belonged to)
– lots of old photos
There was so much stuff we didn’t even go through everything. If we had spent the whole time only looking at photos, I don’t know if we would have made it through them all!
Digging into the trunks ended up being a memorable and satisfying way to spend a special day. The activity encouraged people to share their memories, and I learned new information about my relatives.
I’m not telling everybody to spend their birthday the same way I did. But I would recommend asking older family members if they will show you some of their souvenirs, keepsakes, and photos while you have the chance. I would also take notes because when they’re gone or if they lose their memories, how much will you know about the items left behind? In a pile of jewelry, would you know which pieces held sentimental value and why?
I was thankful that my grandma had labeled some of the items in the trunk, noting a date, where it came from (especially if it was handed down), or other pertinent information. You might consider labeling some of your own belongings that hold special meaning.
Do you know who all the people are in old family photos? It’s even better if you can find out not only their names, but what was happening in the pictures and the stories behind the pictures. “That’s Mildred and Harold. They had just gotten engaged. They were on a picnic by Whitefish Lake with another couple they were friends with. Harold’s buddy was a real jokester- that’s why he’s making that face.” That kind of thing. The stories you hear will probably be worth more than any of the antique furniture or knickknacks.
I would recommend writing names and dates on the backs of at least one group photo in each era. For example, gather pictures that include your grandma with her family when she was a baby, kid, teenager, adult, and senior and label everybody. This will help you recognize her family members at different stages of their lives when you see them in other photos later.
If you’re looking for destination to celebrate a holiday or your next family get-together, you might consider a trip down memory lane.
