I've been thinking about Heirlooms lately. . .
Heirlooms we own—Use and share.
The purpose of an heirloom in my opinion is to pique the interest of the younger generation so that they will want to hear its story, thus becoming connected with generations past. The value isn’t in the item; it is in the story behind the item. I think it’s important to ask, “How am I using my heirlooms?” If I am letting them just sit in a box, I do not own heirlooms, I own white elephants—worthless items that have no purpose. But I don’t have to despair because all that heirlooms require for their value to be restored is for their story to be told. So lets dig out that old hand-tatted collar every year or so, gather the children around, and tell them about the hours Grandma spent making it and how beautiful Grandpa thought she looked wearing it on her wedding day.
Heirlooms we choose—Small and simple.
Sometimes we are lucky enough to choose what we receive as heirlooms from loved ones. If this is the case, I think the choice should be made based on an item’s beauty, usefulness or the story behind it, not it’s economic value. Why? Because it will never be sold. If it’s beautiful, useful, or has a story and happens to be valuable, too, that is one thing, but if it is merely valuable monetarily, I say let Brother Bob have it.
Also, consider the size of the heirloom and the capacity of your home. My Grandpa Richard arrived home from a hunting trip one day with a huge buck triumphantly in tow. He was so proud of his trophy that he stuffed it, named it John Henry, and hung it on the wall. When my Grandpa Richard passed away, I chose a lovely flower from his funeral bouquet, pressed it and placed it in a tiny frame. It sits on my dresser taking less than two square inches of space. It is enough to remind me of my grandpa every day—no John Henry required. So if Sister Sue wants the full-sized plaster sculpture of the mule that Grandpa Gus owned, I say, let her have it and take the kids and grandkids on a yearly field trip to her house to see it and to hear the story of how the mule saved Grandpa’s life.
Heirlooms we make—Ask and include.
About a year ago I was at an activity where homemade goods and services were auctioned off to the highest bidder. The bids were not based on money, but on points that the women involved had earned for doing good works. At one point a beautiful baby blanket crocheted from soft blue yarn was displayed. The auctioneer started the bidding, and no one bid on it. No one. Here was something a dear sister in the group had invested hours of her time to make, and no one in a gathering of forty or so mothers and grandmothers wanted or needed it. In the end, I bid on the item myself and went home with it. I later found someone who did want the blanket and gave it to her for her baby.
The moral of this story is, when I plan to make something to be treasured by a loved one, I should forgo the surprise and communicate instead. I do not want to risk spending hours of loving care on an item that is not wanted. I can let them participate in choosing the color the pattern, and the type of item that they would like. The sky doesn’t have to be the limit. Providing a few choices and possibilities will keep it something I can handle making. Hopefully my family’s helping to choose will increase their anticipation before receiving the item and their joy when it is finished. Years from now I hope my grandkids will gather their children around and tell them about the time Grandma helped them choose and design their very own heirloom.
Heirlooms for many—Divide and conquer
I was very happy the day that my dear Grandma Patricia told me about her cherished coral necklace that she would like me to have as a memento of her when she passed away. Later I learned that Grandma had bequeathed the same coral necklace on the head of many a grand daughter in her time, and that if I wanted it, I'd have to contend for it. So much for the coral necklace. Still, in a way, Grandma had the right idea. Why not give all of the daughters of her ten children the coral necklace? With the divide and conquer theory, Grandma could do just that. The idea goes like this: one coral necklace that your husband bought you on your honeymoon, with the string cut, becomes a bead for each grand daughter to cherish. Thread a needle with lovely gold thread and sew each bead to a card that has your honeymoon photo and love story printed on it. Wait until each grand daughter is old it enough to cherish it as much as you do, and then pass it on.
Or say you have a wedding dress from the eighties, dropped waist and trimmed with lace, beads, and lined with mohair. Yes, mohair. Hey, it was winter, and the mohair looked like fur and it was beautiful surrounded by pine trees. Okay, okay, I’m describing my own wedding dress. It just may turn out that the dress comes back into style and that I'll have a grand daughter just the right size with a love of mohair who is just dying to wear double puffed sleeves. But then again, probably not. I certainly didn't have any daughters who wanted to be married in it. What do I do? Do I send this lace-trimmed wonder to live with others of its kind on a neglected rack at DI? Do I save it forever in a box? Do I throw it in the trash heap? Heavens no! It’s time to divide and conquer. First I have the material—yards and yards of fabric, enough material to dress oodles of babies. Look at all those beads. There are enough to make at least one baby bracelet. And even in this day and age a baby can get away with wearing a tiny bit of lace. Do you see where I’m headed with this? Blessing/Christening clothes. If my daughters and daughters-in-law agree, I'll have them look at my wedding dress. What part does she like? The buttons? The ribbon? How can those items be used to trim an existing store-bought dress or a dress we sew ourselves? At the very least, the fabric can be used to make a cute little infant headband, topped with a nice satin flower, trimmed, of course, with mohair.
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