wading through...

... a life time of someone's belongings, when I spent the day on Friday going through closets at my auntie's house. I am thankful she reported several years ago when she was still relatively able (physically and mentally) to do some of the sorting and deciding for herself. Even so: it all has to go somewhere, as we all know 'you can't take it with you'.  Some of the things in her closets were items of clothing she will never wear, as she has been so well fed three-meals-a-day everything she had been wearing no

A room full of furniture was relocated to the assisted living facility where she resides, and will eventually be disposed of when she no longer needs a place to lay her head. But still, that leaves a house full of belongings, some antiques, old well made tables and chairs from the era when people took great pride in their craft.  In reality, now that I think of all she has accumulated, there is nothing new, furniture-wise, in her house. She enjoyed shopping in thrift stores, sussing out pieces she would strip of layers of paint, and refinish, have reupholstered and enjoy living with as refreshed, renewed belongings.

A few things in her home were made by her dad, who was obviously pretty handy with a hammer and nails. A beautiful old pine wood cabinet she said her dad made when the young couple was able to afford a radio: obviously a huge item budget-wise as well as in actuality. The cabinet stands about thirty inches high, with a shelf maybe 36 inches long, providing a space for all the workings to bring the news of the outside world into their home. There is a bookshelf, now relegated to her covered carport that stood in my grandmothers' home for years, filled with cookbooks, with necessary tools  tucked away behind hinged doors on either end. A large cabinet, at  least five feet in height, of unfinished wood I first saw at my grandmother's, standing in a storage shed made to store all the jam, jelly and vegetables she put by in glass canning jars over many years.

All these made by my grandfather, with hand tools, long before anyone even dreamed of electric saws and nail guns. In a little shop filled with tools, some of which I now own, stored in wooden chest he probably also made with those same tools. Hammers, hand drills, saws, planes, awls, everything tediously cut and shaped by his two hard-working hands after putting in his days as a bank teller in a small southern town. He was raised by people who worked the land, made most of their household furnishings, as well as growing much of what they ate either by planting or raising livestock. He was born into self-sufficiency, learned from an early age thrift and hard work. 

All that is now for sale, to the highest bidder. Available to those wanting the farm-house vintage look in furnishings. So hard to let these things go....