Grandpa

Oh, those beautiful, family keepsakes. How many of us were “gifted” these precious bits of memorabilia that was intended to be passed down to family members through generations yet to come?

How many of our own children, looked at each item and said, “Thanks, but no thanks.”

Heirlooms just don’t seem the same as they did when we were kids (I’m talking about the seniors past their 60s).

I have a China cabinet with many such items. I also have two sons who aren’t interested in such items. From my two sons, I have only one granddaughter and she lives in a small apartment with no room for these wonderful memories.

Two of my precious items are matching cognac glasses my father’s mother brought with her from Russia to Poland, and then to America. She only brought two so they could be used at her wedding (the bridge and groom), whenever that might be. At that time in her life, she had no suitor and wasn’t looking for one. As an immigrant, she needed to work. A few years later, she met Josef, an immigrant who ironically took the same path to America as my grandmother. I can’t say it was instant, “love at first sight.” I wasn’t there. All I know is what was told to me. She brought those two glasses for her wedding – and yes, a few years later, they were used for that purpose.

My dad being the last child born to his parents, was gifted those glasses. I, as the first daughter of their last son, received them. However, neither of my sons are interested in them. They have their own dishes and no room to store more.

Also in my cabinet is a very special set of stemware. A gift to my husband and me from his late wife’s sisters. My older son doesn’t want them. He and his wife have their own stemware. My younger son doesn’t want them because he feels he’ll never use them, and his wife agrees. Also, they don’t have a cabinet in which to place them.

I could go on, mentioning each piece of delicate glassware but I know you get the idea.

In one closet of my house, there are many photograph albums. I’ve made it my mission to scan every photo into my computer and then copy them on to USB drives – one for each son. They’re small and can be tossed in a draw until such a time when they might want to look at them. As I scanned each photo, so many pleasant memories flooded my mind. It’s unfortunate that none of these memories would mean anything to my sons. They had not yet been born. I had already given them USB drives of their childhood memories, however, somewhere down the ancestry line, their children might be interested in knowing who’s who in the family chain. I made sure to label each photo before I scanned them.

There had been only two pieces of furniture my sons wanted. My older son wanted my grandmother’s old RCA Victrola. The label on the back dates it as being made in 1906. My younger son didn’t want it since he has no room. It now sits in my older son’s living room. My younger son’s wife wanted my mom’s old Lane Hope Chest. My older son’s wife said she had no room for it. That decision was also easily made. It now sits at the foot of my younger son’s bed to store blankets, etc.

The only item I have left to give belonged to my dad's mom. It's her old rocking chair. It has no value since we had it refinished years ago. For my children and their children, it’s up for grabs. however, I’m still using it, so they’ll have many (I hope) years to wait for this one.

There is one item that has been passed down and continues to do so. I’m hoping my sons keep up this tradition.

When my mom became pregnant the first time (with my brother), her mom gifted her with a small plant – which grew and grew and kept on growing. Mom would tenderly cut a stem here and there to keep it neat. Her cuttings always made new plants which she’d either plant in the yard to donate to the local school or library.

When I became pregnant with my first child, mom gifted me with a newly grown plant from her original. I was so thrilled at having a piece of mom’s plant.

“Take good care of grandpa, now. Water him weekly but not too much water.”

“Grandpa?” I asked.

She explained that through the years, she’d made so many plants from this one, she felt as though he “grandfathered” more than his share.

The name of her plant stuck like glue!

When my younger son’s wife became pregnant, I snipped a stem, rooted it, and when my grandson was born, his mom received a gift from “grandpa.”

Then again, when my older son’s wife became pregnant, she received a similar gift.

As of this writing, I have no great grandchildren, however, my granddaughter just moved into her own apartment too many miles away from her family home.

Her dad, my older son, asked if she wanted to take anything with her.

Her reply was, “My apartment is so small, I really have no room but, Dad, I would like so much to have my own grandpa plant.”

My son called me to ask how to properly cut the plant so it wouldn’t die.

He did a wonderful job making a new plant for his, well, no matter how she gets, she’ll always be his little girl.

My mom’s original plant made it to 74 years old until it finally gave up and dried up and died.

My grandpa plant is now 57 years old and growing strong. My sons’ plants are 25 years old and still thriving.

Without knowing what she had started, my grandmother began our family tradition of passing down a family tree. Really, it may not be a “tree,” but it is a living plant that keeps getting lovingly passed down to future generations.

As my grandmother’s family keeps growing, each generation is told about the grandpa plant.

They may not want a piece of crystal that will shatter if dropped, but they do have a living, thriving, piece of my family tree.

What greater gift to pass down to my descendants.