Middle age plus
Today I am wearing a pair of socks that had been my late sister, Miriam's.
She liked them because they were softer than the usual socks, had bright pictures on them of redheaded woodpeckers, and they were warm enough to wear without shoes around the house. As we took care of her personal things after her death, these were something I kept for myself.
Now each time I put them on I have a quick memory of the one who originally owned them. Sometimes that leads me to other memories of this strong woman.
Other times I just have a passing thought that here I am, several years after her death, still wearing Miriam's socks. If they ever wear out before I do, I may have trouble knowing what to do with them. Somehow it doesn't seem right to throw them away. But my drawers are too full already of things I couldn't bear to throw out.
Furniture, dishes, articles of clothing, books, or even houses and land that once belonged to loved ones seem to take on personalities of those persons. In our kitchen drawer is a set of steak knives. They are very good steak knives, and I doubt that I would have ever actually bought such a set. But they were in the household of my Aunt Lyle.
When she died my sister Ellen and I bought the possessions of her house in Norman, Okla. We were each still acquiring things for our own homes and these things of Aunt Lyle's were much nicer than we could afford to buy new. So when I get out these steak knives, I call them Aunt Lyle's steak knives.
Our older children who only have dim memories of this lady, grew up with her name being a household word. We referred to Aunt Lyle's dresser, Aunt Lyle's mirror, and Aunt Lyle's steak knives. Is this a type of immortality?
I have a square china bowl that my sister Gertrude had from our Grandmother Gray. When Gertrude was moving to smaller living arrangements, she told me to take this bowl. Grandma Gray died eight years before I was born. I live within sight of the house where she died and walk on land she and my grandfather owned, but I never knew her. Having this bowl which my mother said was used for fruit, makes her seem more of a real person. It isn't a pretty bowl and I don't know if it is valuable or not, but I am glad I have it. If any of my children or grandchildren want it, they will know whose bowl it was and how I happened to have it.
Does that keep memories of Grandma Gray alive? A 48-RPM record that my brother Ralph gave me for Christmas doesn't play well anymore, but I don't want to throw it away because Ralph gave it to me.
A bathrobe that our brother-in-law Dudley wore was given to Lester after Dudley's death. Lester has another, more practical, robe he uses, but Dudley's robe still hangs in the closet. We have Lane's gun, Kathryn's Hummel figurine, Vernon's letters, poems Papa wrote to me, and Mama's recipe book and china closet with dishes intact. I wouldn't part with any of them even though most of them are rarely used. I'm not spooky about them actually containing the spirits of these loved ones, but they certainly bring memories that I cherish.
So what will be saved from my possessions?
This computer? The cat litter box? Or the accumulation of three generations of Welch/
Gray/Thornton relatives and in-laws?
Or maybe another pair of socks with cats on them this time?