WINTER: Letting the heir out of heirlooms
By Mary Winter, Rocky Mountain News (Contact)
Friday, July 25, 2008
Somewhere in our crawl space there's a little wicker rocking chair. It belonged to my husband's father, and although it's been painted a bad Hershey's brown and is probably worth little monetarily, my husband keeps the chair because "it's the only thing I have that was Dad's."
My husband's emotional attachment to the chair explains why he's carted it around for his entire adult life even though he doesn't like it well enough to repair the frayed top or display the little rocker at any of the several homes he's lived in over the years. As we talk about it, it occurs to my husband he doesn't really even know the story behind the chair: Who used it before his father did? Where was it made?
His ambivalence - doesn't really like the chair but feels like it's a part of his heritage - is common. When it comes to family heirlooms, we're often stuck between a rock and a hard place. There's an emotional tug and sense of obligation on one end, but a practical, let's-be-honest part of us on the other that says, "I don't really like this piece, so why in the world don't I just unload it?"
"The Tyranny of the Heirloom: Can't Live With It, Can't Give it Away" was the headline on a story in The New York Times recently. Writer Joyce Wadler interviewed at least a dozen people who live with inherited furniture they hate: a large oil portrait of a late great-uncle that no one else in the family would take; an old-fashioned settee that, despite two reupholsteries, matches nothing else in the house; an armchair that survived the San Francisco earthquake but is too small and delicate to sit in comfortably; a ratty portable bar that holds such vivid memories of his salesman father that the owner can't bear to part with it.
Guilt can move mountains. People hang on to inherited objects because getting rid of them would be stepping on Granddad's grave.
"Even today, when so many people favor simple, modern decor, turning your back on a grandmother's tea set or ornate settee can feel like betrayal. Admit to your family you're thinking of getting rid of such a piece and you're likely to kick off a family opera, with crescendoing wails of, 'How could you?' Quite likely, you'll be torturing yourself with the same question," Wadler wrote.
Of course, some of us are more burdened than others. My husband's father, for example, whose chair is in our crawl space, was a Presbyterian minister whose calling took him to a few different parishes. He had little interest in worldly possessions, and any time he had to move, he simply sold or gave away everything.
And the woman who wrote the "Personal Organizer" column for this newspaper in the early 1990s once told me she could fit all her possessions into a couple of suitcases. Too much stuff, she said, is a ball and chain that weighs us down emotionally, physically, spiritually. (Coincidentally, Susan was single and childless and loved to travel.)
Figuring out what to do with heirlooms you're not in love with isn't easy, but here are tips from Wadler, whose perspective I find hilarious and refreshing.
"Mother, it's too elegant! (and other lies to protect your home from unwanted heirlooms)."
* Paint the big brown piece white first and discuss it with the family later.
* Preface the refusal of a piece with the acknowledgement of its sentimental value and beauty. "I know how much you loved that pink and gold footrest. But it deserves a place it can shine. Like Uncle Artie's, now that he's lost his eyesight."
* Accepting a piece too big for your apartment because one day you will have a country house is like buying pants three sizes too small because one day you will lose 20 pounds.
* Assuage your guilt about tossing a piece by realizing that the relative who gave it to you probably felt the same way.
* Practice the mantra of Lois Braverman, a family therapist: "My taste is different. Why don't we pick out someone in the family who would love to have this?"
Heirloom stories
* Do you have an interesting heirloom story you'd be willing to share? Judy Latuda, a friend who owns several heirlooms, has agreed to help read submissions. We'll print the most interesting/ unusual/bizarre/touching of them. E-mail to mwinte@aol.com, or mail to Mary Winter, Rocky Mountain News, 101 W. Colfax Ave. Denver, CO 80202. Include photos if you'd like.
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July 26, 2008
7:07 a.m.
Suggest removal
arby writes:
When my Grandmother died in a small town in Missouri I went to her funeral, of course. Well the divving up began after the funeral. Two of my aunts got into it over a pie safe (I hope you know what a pie safe is) so it was getting pretty heated in the kitchen and my uncle who was married to one of the arguers took me aside and said. "If you want something take it now" Well I only had a car so I couldn't grab the treadle Singer sewing machine, one or another of my girl cousin's would have probably done me serious harm if I'd even tried. Anyway there was an oil lamp that looked pretty old. So I grabbed that wrapped it in a towel and stowed it in my trunk. Thinking I got a prize.
When I got back to Denver I unwrapped my prize and on the bottom it was stamped made in Japan. So it was only a few years old. I don't know why my Grandmother bought it, just sentimental I suppose. But is worthless and I don't know what to do with it. The lamp works but if you don't trim the wick just right you get smoke all over the place. It's easier to just hit the light switch. Anyway that's my hierloom story.