A friend invited me to participate in an auction. It was an estate sale, for a woman without heirs. As I paged through the hundreds of items, I felt a pull.
I knew her.
Of course I didn't. She lived in another state, ran in different circles. Worked in a field I know nothing about, and had no
children. Yet the piles of quilts, collections of cards, and bundles of baskets told me that she and I had similar tastes.
I bid on a slew of things, trying to exercise restraint with maximums. But with an auction you never know what will happen. So you step into the unknown. In the end I came away with a quilt rack, antique Dresden Plates, an appliquéd floral quilt, enough baskets for my young sewers to pretty up liners for, and three boxes of cards. Boxes of
boxes of cards. Christmas, birthdays, sympathy were all covered. There was even one of Flamenco dancers that I will give to my Spanish loving daughter. I have heard that buying and sending cards are separate hobbies. Perhaps that was the case with this woman, as the supply is quite ample. I have already sent a dozen but it hardly made a dent.
What can we learn about someone by the things that surround them? A few friends are slogging through the belongings of aging
relatives, and some things are frankly worthless. Others though, tell a story.
The recipes are a snippet of family history that seem worthy of keeping. I have keepsake books for my daughters that include spaces for such remembrances. Though I decided to leave out the one my mother relied on:
one can of Campbell's cream of mushroom soup
one box of Chicken of the Sea tuna
one box of
elbows
I have never made this for my children.
What will I leave to my own descendants? What will they value? What will they toss?
The other day Hope told me something I hadn't noticed.
"I'm doing what you do. I talk to people behind the counter, or the server. I can't believe it. It just comes out."
I hadn't exactly realized that I did that,
though I have strong memories of my father being over the top friendly. Once he invited the waitress to sit down with our family as she was clearly having a hard day.
How about that. Some of the things we leave to our children don't take up space in the garage after all.
