Wednesday, February 1, 2012
When my uncle died, we packed up his house. He was the curator of the family heirlooms: the china, old letters, furniture, photos. Everything. It was fascinating to see who chose what. One brother took a rocking chair, in which he said our grandmother used to rock him. Another wanted the flat-screen TV and a couple of sketches on the wall. A sister-in-law liked gadgets. A niece took some china and an old washtub. My cousin took a map. My son took a highly decorative Mason's sword that belonged to my Great-Uncle Mood.
Oh, there's more. Much, much more. A hundred years or more of family heirlooms, carefully divvied up. But today, colored glass. The pieces belonged to my Great-Aunt Flossie (the hobnail pieces in the top two photos) and my grandmother, Helen. I've always loved colored glass in windows, and I love even more the daily reminders of these three people: my precious grandmother, my Aunt Flossie, and our beloved Uncle Max.