I woke up this morning around three or so. I decided to take advantage of the quiet and claim the recliner and the TV. I even managed to fix a quiet breakfast. I am sure at several times I dozed off, full belly, toes all warm, and a comfortable resting place will do that.
The recliner has an interesting view of a significant portion of my grandmother’s house. If you are sitting in it you can look straight ahead and see from the living room into one of the bedrooms. The pathway is marked by a tidy, but extensive knick knack collection. In my half asleep daze this morning, I remember staring at it and thinking, “Good thing I do not have to keep all those things clean.”
Every once in a while, I can remember focusing on an object or two and thinking “Hey! I remember that from when I was a kid.” or “Awww she framed a picture my son colored.” Even the room that is considered my mother’s room when she is in town, has a puzzle that my daughter did and then glued together.
Still, I am thinking, “too much stuff to keep clean”.
After a while I headed back to the room I am using and took my robe off and laid it on top of the most convenient thing. Immediately, I heard a little voice say “What can we build together?” It was Elmo from the little tool bench my parents had bought my niece. It is kept here so she has something of her own to play with.
Elmo’s voice prompted me to look around the room. Along one wall there are toys that are nicely stacked. Three generations of children have contributed to that pile. Turning around, I can see the wardrobe my grandparents used from the time I could remember. On the floor next to the bed I can see my father’s very modern books.
Tucked all over the house are little bits of stuff, an old butter churn, a black iron dutch oven, a hunting horn actually made from a bull’s horn. Things that used to belong to my grandmother’s mother and father, and even one or two things that belonged to her grandparents.
Shelves and shelves loaded with “depression glass”, and lots of humming bird knick knacks. Nestled among all of this are things that she has been given over the years by the grandchildren and great-grandchildren. She still has the pot holder I made when I was eight and lived in Spain. She keeps pictures and letters that the kids have sent her over the years. A few years ago she gave me back a paint by numbers painting I did for her when I was about seven.
So many things have just always been here, at least in my memory. No matter what house my grandmother lived in she has had the same china cabinet, and the same dining table. I remember sitting at that table with my grandfather eating Dairy Queen slaw dogs. She has always had that “depression glass”. There is the little marble top table that I believe my grandfather made many, many years ago. Yet this morning, mostly what I could think of when I saw these things was, “I am glad that I do not have to clean them.”
I could assess each and every part of the house that way and find the old mixed with the new, things left from when my mother was a kid, to things left by one of the great-grandchildren. The past very much mixed in with the present.
Once again, Elmo had to put his two cents in, “What can we build together?”
Something became clear after that. Without meaning to, my grandmother has been the orchestrator of an unlikely and great time capsule. One that we helped her build without even realizing it.
With little to no effort she can pull an object out of its hiding place and tell you how she came by it and what was going on in the world at the time. She shares her thoughts and emotions about those world events in her stories. With another object she can bring back a fond childhood memory.
She directed the building of this great collection gently. Here and there over the years she would suggest one of the grandkids leave something at her house so we would have it the next time we were over. Or if we happened to forget something on one of our many visits to her house, she would be sure to put it up, ensuring that it would be there the next time we came. There are even things here that were intentionally bought to leave at my grandmother’s house.
Yes, my grandmother’s house is an unlikely time capsule. She has created a place that in its way, to me, represents the center of the family. She is not really taking care of knick knacks and useless junk, she is taking care of our family history and memories. There is something for me to learn from that.
