Over 60 years ago my grandparents began collecting these:
This past weekend as we did a purge through the house readying things for sale my husband took me down to the basement. "No, there's nothing down here to go" said I. He led me to the "other side" of the basement (the unfinished, I'm freezing craft "studio"/junque storage area), around the corner and over to the piece of furniture under the work table. Dread crept in as I begin to see where he was heading with this. Sliding open the drawers he began pulling things out and then came to the steins.
"No pressure. You don't have to get rid of them if you don't want to but I thought maybe you'd forgotten about them." Oh crud. I don't want to face this. My grandparents have been gone for quite some time. They never got to meet or even know about my kids. The steins have a long past and they have been sitting in this piece of furniture since we packed them and moved them from Maryland FIVE YEARS AGO!
I knew he was right. I don't love them. They aren't my style. I have some glass steins that were part of their collection and those I really do like. These and a few more just aren't me. They don't say anything about who I am or what I like. I've been holding on to them because...I'm supposed to? It's the right thing? They would want me to? In a weird way it's like holding on to the past - to some vision of what was.
He was right. I knew, even as the dread crept in, that he was right. It's time for them to go. Truth be told my grandparents would like nothing better than to know that I sold them, took the money and put it in the kids college funds. I know this deep down but it still feels wrong. Like last year when I sold the various coins (do all grandfathers give their grandkids silver dollars and wheat pennies?!) I'd been given to help us pay to fix the water leak in the basement.
So they're going. It will be fine. Stuff does not memories make but it sure is easy to lose sight of that.