Recently, when I served dessert to women friends around my grandmotherās dining room table, we described our uneasy relationship with the objects the women of our families treasured.
Women of the Greatest Generation, like my mother, cared about āgoodā china, crystal, and real silverware. They hoped to get full sets of it as wedding presents, and they cherished their motherās and grandmotherās things. For them, the hope chest tradition was alive and well. They collected china and linens before they married and instilled that value in my Baby Boom friends and me. But our Millennial kids donāt want to fuss with handwashing goblets or ironing tablecloths. Not that I blame them. I donāt either. Nonetheless, my friends and I are distressed about what to do with the tableware and linens weāve inherited. Let alone the quilts, furniture, and photographs.
We were brought up to value them, but the tableware really doesnāt make much sense in our lives. Where do you keep it between holidays? Wouldnāt holiday meals be less work if all your dishes could go in the dishwasher? And yet, this stuff mattered so much to our mothers. How can we just donate it to charity? But people doāGoodwill is full of 12-piece place settings with dainty floral borders. Iāve seen Waterford crystal goblets there too.
Articles like,No One Wants Your Stuffhave taught me to rethink my assumptions. The popularity of books like The Gentle Art of Swedish Death Cleaningand The Life-Changing Magic of Tidying UpĀ make clear that either I can purge my stuff or my kids will.
Iām becoming reconciled to the half-life of memories. When my siblings, first cousins, and Iāthe last people to remember Mimmie Shriner or Grandma Pleitzāare gone, my grandmothers will become āancestorsā instead of the vivid people they are in my head. Mimmieās dining room table will just be an antique table, and Grandma Pleitzās crystal goblets will just be wine glasses. Their significance is in my memories; my sons and any future daughters-in-law donāt have those associationsāthey never knew my grandmothers.
Yet the objects are a visible reminder of past generationsāhardworking, loving women who wanted pretty things in their lives. How can I honor the memory of these women without feeling burdened by their stuff? One way Iāve chosen is to use the good crystal and china even if it isnāt a holiday. When it chips or breaks, I throw it out. That way my grandmothers come to mind and are more present in my life. If their tablecloths get shrunk or stainedāso be it. At least they got used and enjoyed. Likewise, I honor my grandmothers by keeping a few things I really like so I can look at them often. Finally, I remind myself that heritage doesnāt reside in the objects alone. Itās also passed down through our familyās recipes, traditions, stories, and values.
I accept that my sons and future daughters-in-law may not care about my stuffāwhether inherited or chosen during 30+ years of marriage. If they do, they will have different memories than mine. I hope they only keep what they care about.
