Memory Gaps, A Fondness for Tradition

In the first session of Mommy’s Piggy Tales I wrote about my foggy memories prior to age 5. So writing more about them would be next to impossible. For inspiration, I went back to some photo albums to see if I could jog any of those memories. What I found were events I didn’t have a whole lot of recollection of, but objects that are still a part of my life, so I chose to write about them this week.

I’m both sentimental and overly-practical when it comes to items I save. To explain, if it has a memory or emotion attached to it or if it could possibly maybe be useful to me or someone I know at some point, I’m going to have trouble letting go. I am not drowning in my own stuff. I do know logically that there are some things not worth saving and that memories are not tangible. But when I went back and looked at these photos, there was a satisfaction in seeing objects from my childhood that have persisted to my own children’s lives.


These rocking chairs belonged to my brother and I as children, lived in the garage rafters when we grew out of them, and lived in my own garage rafters until I had children. Now they live in my boys’ rooms.

 
This larger rocking chair was my great-grandmother’s. It lived in my grandma’s house after great-grandma passed away, When my mom and I travelled cross country to move Grandma out of her house after Grandpa died, she had the sentimental reaction not to part with it, but the logical reaction that it wasn’t that comfortable and there wasn’t space for it in her new apartment. So, it came to live with me. It resides in my living room. It’s kinda creaky, and not very comfy, and I prefer my glider for rocking babies, but I like seeing a piece of family history in my house.

This baby cradle was a Christmas gift, made for me by either Dad or Grandpa (foggy memories). It too is in the rafters of my garage. I’ve been saving it in hopes of a little girl of my own, though some days when B plays Daddy to his baby, I’m tempted to get it down for him. The toy chest on the right lived in my room until high school, serving a variety of purposes and being repainted more than once. After we got married, my husband stripped the paint and refinished it so I could add it to B’s room. Many of the ornaments on the tree behind me now hang on my own tree each year, passed down from my mom and grandma.

These last two photos speak more to the development of me. The first is my aunt, the second my grandpa, both reading to or with me. I’m sure they weren’t the only ones, but these are the photos I found. I have no doubt that my love of reading and even my profession in teaching are thanks in part to the family members who read with me at this young age. I may have to post these over at Little Sprout Books to give authority to my reviews! Even if I don’t have specific details to share about my childhood and memories from this age, I know that it helped me become the person I am now. And for that, I am grateful, so I treasure the objects that remind me of the family and love that surrounded me.