From One Generation to the Next

The last time I went to my parents' house, they gave me a huge box of my old stuff to take home.  I guess now that I have my own attic and basement I should get my things out of theirs!

Anyways, I've always been a pack rat.  I can attach sentimentality to just about anything.  I save greeting cards and old wall calendars.  I have a hard time throwing items away.  Everything means something to me; everything has a story to tell.

This turned out to be a good thing, because now I have a child to give new life to the belongings I saved.  Inside the box was a tall stack of my old record books.  Do you remember those? They were illustrated children's books with a sleeve in back to hold a record.  I would put the record on my Fisher Price record player and hear the story while looking at the pictures and reading along.  If I can find that record player (which I know I kept) Emmie can enjoy those same stories someday!

Emmie looks at one of my old books in her PJs. She's all about the alphabet right now.

Packed away were also some ceramic cat figurines (which Bruce has emphatically announced will not be displayed in our house), seashells, and toys.  The best toy in the box was my Little Professor calculator game!  Oh boy, as soon as I saw it I was small again, swinging my feet in the backseat of my parents' blue Dodge station wagon, passing the time on some road trip.  The memories...

I've always imagined that when she's a bit older, Emmie will get a kick out of some of these things.  Some I should probably give or throw away.  But some of them can be shared, a way to connect with her, to tell her stories of my youth and the way life was in the past.  That Little Professor is like the iPhone of 30 years ago!

In many cases, these artifacts are symbols.  Their meaning surpasses their usefulness or functionality.  They represent days gone by, when I was young.  The times spent with my brother and parents, before my adult independence, marriage, and motherhood.

I want my children to know who I am.  I read an article in the New York Times that the happiest, healthiest children had a clear understanding of their family narrative.  Knowing where one has come from develops a strong sense of self.

I hope that Emmie will like to hear about my life and her father's life before her.  I hope she will want to know about her grandparents' lives, her uncle's and aunt's, her family history going back to WWII, and even further to ancestors in Italy, Ireland, Germany, and China.  I hope she is proud of the strong individuals who worked hard to create the life she now has.  I hope she listens to the stories we will tell her, the fun ones and difficult ones alike, and they help to shape her identity.

I hope she will be proud of her heritage and take the past to heart.