Clinging to "Stuff"

This is a picture of your GG's dining room furniture.  It has enjoyed a prominent role in our family, partly because it is a lovely set but mostly because of the stories that come with it. Your Grandpa Max bought it at an estate auction.  The woman who owned it had been a state senator from rural south central Idaho.  When she died, her heirs auctioned everything in situ (where it sat).  The sale was offered by rooms in the house. Grandpa Max submitted a sealed bid on the dining room, and won the bid at something like $325.  

Everything in the room was of good quality (he had an eye for quality). This is as much as we know of the dining room prior to his acquiring it.  We know he packed, loaded and trucked his purchase home, bursting with pride and excitement. GG was overwhelmed.  Prior to this, her dining room consisted of a green painted wooden table with four mismatched ladder-back kitchen chairs.  Worse yet, their house lacked a dining room.  No matter.  She rearranged her kitchen, installed the furniture, hung the lovely chandelier (a converted gas lamp not pictured here) and lovingly unpacked the beautiful dishes into the senator's buffet and china cabinet.

Since that time the dining room (and all that it contains) has been packed and moved many times.  The first move was from Boise to Caldwell where Grandpa Max bought a house when he retired.  The second move was from Caldwell to Arizona when GG came to live with your mama and me.  The next move was to Washington state, where GG and I moved when you were born, ninos.  From there I moved it into storage in Spokane, WA while your parents relocated to Washington DC, then from Spokane to Boise, then to Caldwell, and the latest move into storage in Boise where it now sits.  Each move has caused a bit of damage, a nick here, a scratch and a scrape there, weakened the legs, dulled the finish, and so on.  Temperatures here are over a hundred degrees, and I know that the furniture will not do well in the storage unit.  I am actually considering buying a place of my own just to have a safe, temperature controlled room in which to house it.

And so I am writing to you, grandchildren, to tell you the history of this furniture; what it means to me and why I continue to hang on to it.  GG loved it dearly but she is gone now. No one values it the way she did.  The dining room, the lovely china and glassware that she proudly displayed and used over the years are a tangible way of remembering her.  Her competent hands refinished the table top.  She served delicious meals to grateful guests on that lovely table. She loved the Haviland china, using it often.  The members of her Association of University Women writer's group must have wondered at the contrasts in their surroundings.  Modest shake house.  Homemade book shelves in the living room.  GG's original oil and water color art on the walls.  Couch and chair she rebuilt and recovered by hand.  Coffee from delicate china cups, refreshments set out on that beautiful old table under a delicate antique chandelier. GG of course was silent as the Sphynx when it came to her life; she explained nothing.  

I once had a lot of possessions, ninos.  Over time I've let most of them go; furniture, clothing, kitchen things, decorative items, even books.  When I have special memories about an item, I take a picture so I can keep part of it.  For now, I plan to keep the dining room set.  I'll find a home for it and when you visit sometime, I will tell you stories that go with GG's favorite things.  I have a few things of my own, and they might have a story also.  For me it is not about the "stuff" we keep, it's about the people who owned and used it, what it meant to them.  Without a story to tell and people we love to remember, the stuff we keep might not be worth keeping

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