I use my mother's sterling flatware every day. I cook out of her Revereware pots that were made in Rome, NY in the early 1950s. Sadly, the Millennials in my family don't want them when I go, because they don't want the work to maintain them. I'm praying for enough years that they can observe with their own eyes that it doesn't take that much work.
Another wholesome, encouraging offering! “This longing is often dismissed as nostalgia, though nostalgia is not quite the right word for it. Nostalgia traps people in the past. What is happening now feels active and intentional.”
Such a useful and accurate distinction; a helpful frame to guide anyone’s movement away from ‘temporary’ to lasting.
I often work with tools that belonged to my dad, my grandfather, and my great grandfather. Heavy, well-made things with USA stamped in metal.
My line descends from indentured servants arriving on the Chesapeake in the 1640s — now Baltimore. They homesteaded in Indiana and Iowa; made lightning rods, and hot blast stoves in Chicago. They were farmers, militia men, tavern keepers, blacksmiths, people of ingenuity. They made things.
My grandfather worked for Montgomery wards and came up with the idea of miniature china tea sets for girls, coon skin caps for boys (surplus from the dying fur coat trade), and the first miniature Christmas lights to go on trees. He was an Eagle Scout and always carried a sheath knife.
I have his tool belt. The leather has molded around each tool, and I keep it just like that. I commune with gramps when I work.
I think of great grampy when I use his old dolly to move heavy furniture.
As the generations pass away we sort through belongings and carry on what is meaningful.
Not too long ago, my dad noticed the rubber feet of a very old step ladder had finally worn out. When he replaced them, he found washers at the bottoms of the rubber feet, put there by my great grandfather to distribute the weight of the foot/pipe more evenly on the rubber. He meant for it to last. My dad put the washers back in new rubber feet and put it back together. Good for another 50 years.
We have a drop leaf table we found at a barn/estate sale years ago. It was all but given to us in addition to a pitchfork and old wooden ladder. Pieces of the past that are still formidable in their manufacturing and worth more than the disposable put together in a few minutes with these included tools. The dresser and desk my grandfather made, heavy and sturdy. My husband's great grandma's desk. I am saddened that no one wants these items upon our death.
It makes me sad too. I wonder at all of the things I have accumulated in my 70 plus years, and know my kids will probably curse me as they toss them out.
Yes, we have more stuff from our past than we have gathered as our own.
A few years ago, we went to a "left-over sale." The gal was moving and what was left in the house was for the taking (or buying). I literally stripped the bed of a handmade quilt (which felt a little weird) but I feared more it being tossed into the trash. It is tired but useable. Its history is lost. Still feels better than buying a blanket at a discount store.
I feel this and think of this often. It seems so much of rebuilding home begins with whats in you and makes you come alive. And yet it’s a chicken and egg thing that rebuilding home allows you to respect and become more acquainted with what makes you come alive. Either way, life is the result and a worthy end. Well written, and thanks for the audio!!
I found a typewriter in a thrift shop that is well over 100 years old. It doesn't work and maybe at some point I'll fix it but I like just having it in my study where I write. Something about it feels like what you have written about.
I use my mother's sterling flatware every day. I cook out of her Revereware pots that were made in Rome, NY in the early 1950s. Sadly, the Millennials in my family don't want them when I go, because they don't want the work to maintain them. I'm praying for enough years that they can observe with their own eyes that it doesn't take that much work.
Another wholesome, encouraging offering! “This longing is often dismissed as nostalgia, though nostalgia is not quite the right word for it. Nostalgia traps people in the past. What is happening now feels active and intentional.”
Such a useful and accurate distinction; a helpful frame to guide anyone’s movement away from ‘temporary’ to lasting.
I often work with tools that belonged to my dad, my grandfather, and my great grandfather. Heavy, well-made things with USA stamped in metal.
My line descends from indentured servants arriving on the Chesapeake in the 1640s — now Baltimore. They homesteaded in Indiana and Iowa; made lightning rods, and hot blast stoves in Chicago. They were farmers, militia men, tavern keepers, blacksmiths, people of ingenuity. They made things.
My grandfather worked for Montgomery wards and came up with the idea of miniature china tea sets for girls, coon skin caps for boys (surplus from the dying fur coat trade), and the first miniature Christmas lights to go on trees. He was an Eagle Scout and always carried a sheath knife.
I have his tool belt. The leather has molded around each tool, and I keep it just like that. I commune with gramps when I work.
I think of great grampy when I use his old dolly to move heavy furniture.
As the generations pass away we sort through belongings and carry on what is meaningful.
Not too long ago, my dad noticed the rubber feet of a very old step ladder had finally worn out. When he replaced them, he found washers at the bottoms of the rubber feet, put there by my great grandfather to distribute the weight of the foot/pipe more evenly on the rubber. He meant for it to last. My dad put the washers back in new rubber feet and put it back together. Good for another 50 years.
We have a drop leaf table we found at a barn/estate sale years ago. It was all but given to us in addition to a pitchfork and old wooden ladder. Pieces of the past that are still formidable in their manufacturing and worth more than the disposable put together in a few minutes with these included tools. The dresser and desk my grandfather made, heavy and sturdy. My husband's great grandma's desk. I am saddened that no one wants these items upon our death.
It makes me sad too. I wonder at all of the things I have accumulated in my 70 plus years, and know my kids will probably curse me as they toss them out.
Yes, we have more stuff from our past than we have gathered as our own.
A few years ago, we went to a "left-over sale." The gal was moving and what was left in the house was for the taking (or buying). I literally stripped the bed of a handmade quilt (which felt a little weird) but I feared more it being tossed into the trash. It is tired but useable. Its history is lost. Still feels better than buying a blanket at a discount store.
I feel this and think of this often. It seems so much of rebuilding home begins with whats in you and makes you come alive. And yet it’s a chicken and egg thing that rebuilding home allows you to respect and become more acquainted with what makes you come alive. Either way, life is the result and a worthy end. Well written, and thanks for the audio!!
You are the spiritual heir to John Peterman.
beautiful. Really nailed what we've been harping on for a while now on this one, Ryan.
I will read this one again and again.
I found a typewriter in a thrift shop that is well over 100 years old. It doesn't work and maybe at some point I'll fix it but I like just having it in my study where I write. Something about it feels like what you have written about.
So much food for thought here. ❤️