Keeping The Memories
My brother was overjoyed when I called him earlier this week and asked, “Do you want these old 45s that belonged to Mom?”
His voice was filled with wonder and awe, “You still have them? Yes, I want them.”
We talked about some of the records that came from the store my mother had back in the early 1960s. We always got the newest music at our house. The Big Bopper, Ray Price, Frankie Valle, Fats Domino, The Viscounts…all of them are there, as well as many you would never recognize. We loved them! Our house was always rocking with music back then.
I even have some of the plastic record adapters we used so they would fit on our record player spindle. My brother was amazed and awed that this “blast from the past” could be his. It gave me great pleasure to please him with an item that has been hiding in the back of my closet. He will enjoy them much more than I have. I’m only keeping one record: “Night Train” by The Viscounts (because Momma and Daddy used to dance to that).
As I am in the midst of de-cluttering the closets, I’m finding many more treasures. They are things I have hoarded just because of the memories attached to them. What good are they doing anyone hidden in the dark recesses of my hall closet?
For instance, there was a whole shelf of children’s books that my kids had when they were young: The Berenstein Bears, Sesame Street, and Dr. Seuss. Most of them are paperback, and all of them are well loved. I’ve been keeping them because they belonged to my children, and for no other reason. They have no monetary value.
I have two great-nieces who are just the right age to enjoy them. I rarely get to see those little girls, and I’ve decided that Aunt Shelly will send them packages throughout the summer with books and any other little tidbits I find that they might enjoy. I don’t know how my niece will feel about that. I’m only keeping a handful of books that were special favorites.
I don’t know who I’ll find to take this orange Texas ware off my hands. They were my Momma’s dishes, and I love them. When she died, I insisted that they be mine! I didn’t get any arguments. I’ve had them for three years and never used them once, because they need to be hand washed to survive. Deciding to get rid of them is a major hurdle. I’m only keeping the round serving dish as a memory.
This is slow progress, but it’s happening. My house is beginning to shift!
