When you move from your homeland, it becomes increasingly important to feel connected to your heritage. I grew up with stories about my ancestors, spending family gatherings in the house my great grandfather built, looking at black and white photos, reading my mom's yearbook (so fun, haha!). My great grandmother Audrey (whom I was named after) kept absolutely everything in her basement after the Depression. Okay, I exaggerate, but there was a lot of old stuff. It smelled of musty books and walk-in cellars lined with canned vegetables. If you know you know.
My cousins and I would play dress up and pretend to cook with the kitchen tools, some nearly a century old. In my childhood home we would use one of Mamaw Audrey's old grinders to chop up the peanuts for our ice cream sundaes. The handle was made out of metal and wood, not plastic. I liked that.
Fast forward nearly two decades, and I bid farewell to Eric's paternal grandmother--what a matriarch she was, firm yet kind--mother to nine children and a mess of grandchildren and great grandchildren. When she passed I was given two light blue pot holders she crocheted, and they went perfectly with the two handwritten baking recipes she sent me for my bridal shower.
A family member grimaced at the idea of me using the pot holders--almost like it was disrespectful. And I understand that everyone is different when it comes to sentimental items. But for me, touching and using something makes me feel closer to the person I miss, closer to the past that I wish to be a part of my present. No, she wasn't my biological grandmother, but she is a part of me and a part of my husband and children's ancestry. Using the pot holders reminds me how our story is connected to hers, a daughter of Czechoslovakian immigrants and a brave woman of WWII.
Sometimes it's lonely when your family and even your sense of self feels far away. I know the minimalist philosophy has merit, but I love having a few knickknacks and just-because items to glance at and remember the stories behind them. One day I hope to have a wall of old photos so I can talk with my children about their ancestors. I want them to know their faces, names, and a few stories. For now, after a rather stressful morning, I make chocolate chip sour cream cake with a vintage Pyrex bowl and--you guessed it--Grandma Masur's pot holders.
Things are just things until they remind us of something more. And then they are still merely things, but they have the power to remind us of reality far beyond the last five minutes of what we read scrolling Instagram. These special items can be a small, steadying force in a world constantly changing. Knowing a bit of history is important when we examine local and world events that are playing out right in front of us. Should we be quiet? Should we speak up? Should we reach out?
Whether you have precious heirlooms on display or items you use on a daily basis, I hope you can feel connected to positive reminders of your family history. If this topic is painful for you, perhaps research your family's history--there's bound to be something interesting or inspiring. Or maybe visit the local antique shop where you're from and purchase something that reminds you of your original home. Growing up in rural Indiana, kitchen and farm tools are some of my favorites. I also had some wonderful elderly friends as a child--they were sweet pseudo grandparents. If you really struggle to celebrate your family, perhaps there is someone special in your life whose heritage you can honor in your home.
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