The Heirloom

I’m not entirely sure how I came to have this in my possession. I do remember that, some time after Mum passed away, my Dad finally found the strength to have a bit of a sort through her things. At that time he gave me a small bag with some of her old jewellery in it. Costume jewellery for the most part, but amongst the beads and brooches were items which I recognised as the annual gifts my father used to buy for my mother at Christmas or anniversary times. Perhaps this was one of the earliest of those?

The little silver pendant is badly tarnished. When I opened its now-delicate hinges, a tiny scrap of paper fell out. I scrabbled to pick it up (before the dog) and thanked my lucky stars that I had got there first when I realised that it was a tiny heart-shaped photograph of my dad. It must date from around 1952 at a guess – he would have been about 17 years old.

As I placed it back in its rightful home, I realised that my Mum’s face was also there, side by side with my Dad, as she had always been for 50 years or more. It seemed so poignant.

They are preserved, locked in this silver housing, protected from the world and from illness and death, still so young and alive and in love.

I wonder what tales it could tell, this little heirloom of mine, if it could talk?

I have taken its photograph, so that it can take its rightful place amongst our ongoing family stories.

There are lots of ‘heirloom’ memories over at the Little Legacies series on The Alexander Residence Blog, so pay her a visit too!

Other posts you might enjoy:-

Life’s a Journey series. Week 2: The Old School Portrait - you can join in with the nostalgic Linky on this series!!!

The Hand Me Down Kid

Declaring war on the War

‘Life’s a Journey’ series. Week 3 – Earliest writings, by Helen

Last week in the series we looked at your old school portraits. I apologise for saying this, but quite frankly some were just nasty!

This week we are taking a look at the primitive works which we crafted when we were in short trousers.

This particular piece (penned by Yours Truly at about the aged of 6) makes the very highly skilled observation that ‘ladie black birds are brown’ and shows enormous amounts of ornithological promise.

My writing prowess continued onwards and upwards from here, and was out-matched only by my creativity in the art department.

This magical, atmospheric and colourful piece demonstrates a maturity of Van-Goghian proportions, don’t you agree? Unsure about the continued ‘flying’ theme, however. A somewhat curious obsession.

I am keen, nay desperate to see if any of you can out-do my precocious talent and genius, so please use the Linky below to submit your inferior contributions…(!)

Next week we step back and revisit old friendships. Perhaps you have a best pal whom you’ve known since your school days, or just someone whose friendship you want to celebrate? Get ready to share!!

Post an entry to your own Blog  and use the Linky tool (link below) to enter your memories into the fray. If you like, just leave a comment and join in that way, but do join in.

If you feel sexy, grab the code too (just follow the link) and post it into your Blog entry – that way, everyone can pay it forward as they say – it’s good to share.

Please visit the other blogs on the list and leave a comment or two – it makes everyone’s day!

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Click here to enter your link and view this Linky Tools list…

Other posts in this series:-

Week 1 - ‘Myearliest baby photo’

Week 2 - ‘The Old School Portrait’

About the ‘Life’s a Journey’ family stories series.

Each Tuesday I will revisit a memory from some part or other of my life or family stories, and the idea is that you join in and do the same! Don’t leave me exposed, man.

There will  be moments of fun, moments of sadness, and probably some bad hair errors, but don’t be put off.

Find out more about joining in with ’Life’s a Journey’  here.

Motivation Monday – Declaring War on The War

My photography resolution for the next few weeks does not involve the camera.

It’s a War on scanning. Me versus the black machine and a large pile of precious letters from World War II.

I have determined that I will take each of these carefully catalogued heirlooms (in date order, by my Dad) and scan it on to my hard drive, with care and affection.

Once scanned, I aim to serialise these most treasured of letters, which will be a labour of love (and deep emotion no doubt) on my Blog and Twitter.

Their contents are a rich stream of stories home from the war, by a boy no more than 18 years old, to his mother, who happened to be my Nan. They continue over a 4 year period, beyond the war’s end, and tell of his love for a young girl (too young to be getting married) and his ultimate, terrible, and tragic demise.

I aim to do justice to the boy who was Joe, my Uncle, whom I never met. I hope you will stop by and read about his story.

This is my resolution and it will be my privilege to keep it.

To read the story behind these letters, visit an old post here. For other letters from the war, check out the stories of the Nelson Family from Minnesota.

Other posts you may like:-

Life’s a Journey Linky series. Week 2: the old school portrait

The Hand Me Down Kid

Unfortunate Christmas Incidents – the doggy v dolly ‘face-off’

Guest Post – Are you making a childhood to remember?

What I Want My Children To Remember About Their Childhood

by Brae Craig 

at I am NOT a VOLCANO!!!(and other such stories)

I have always had a good memory. Most people can’t remember when they were very young, but I do. I recall sounds, smells, and even exact conversation from the time I was very young. I don’t usually need a calendar to remember important dates or times, and, without looking, I still know my babies birth dates, times, and their size and lengths.

My childhood was filled with summers spent catching snakes and throwing water balloons. Christmases, birthdays, baby brothers and sisters, giggling with friends, card games with my family, and lots of small details that made me who I am.

Now I am a mother, and, while my childhood is behind me, my children’s childhoods are staring me in the face.

I’m sure every mother can identify with my emotions here. I am terrified that they will look back and remember every single moment that I yelled at them. I just KNOW they will remember the times I made them sit and eat the food they HATED (usually spinach lasagna.) or the times I didn’t give them what they want. I am afraid that somewhere, I will, in the heat of the moment, say something I shouldn’t and that, despite apologies, my comment will scar them for life and turn them into bank  robbers instead of award winning concert pianists (I’m kidding on the concert pianist thing.) I am afraid that, when they are with their friends, they will have nothing good to say about me.

The truth is, I’m sure that in my past, my parents disciplined me plenty of times. I’m sure I received spankings, and no doubt they yelled at me and maybe said some regrettable things. I know, for sure, that my mother used to insist that I eat mushy green beans from a can (I still can’t stand them), and, if my mother is as normal as any other mother out there today, she probably faced a lot of guilt  for it, just like we do.

But do you know what? I don’t remember those things with  any kind of vividness, and I’m not screwed up.

When Lilly was born, my mom got me a baby book for her that is illustrated by Mary Englebreit (who I LOVE) – it is filled with darling pictures of babies, and families, and women in slippers with captions that read “Queen Of Everything.” and “Life is just a chair of bowlies”

There is one picture, though, that captured my heart from the very moment I saw it. (And forgive me, I spent, literally, hours looking for a proper picture on the internet and could not find one…so you get a snapshot from my camera.)

I love this because, as this little boy is going off to school, all those hearts are floating out of his home while his mother kisses him goodbye.

Despite my fears, I’m pretty sure that my kids won’t remember the times they were grounded from television, or had to put their nose on the corner for time outs. Over the years, they will remember laughing late at night while we all snuggled together on the couch watching movies. They will remember family vacations, and holidays. What I really hope they remember when  they look back at their childhoods is a home so full of love that it hit them hard in the face whenever they opened the door after school. I hope they remember feeling safe and secure. I hope it’s strong enough to follow them each day to school, and wrap them in a bubble on their way back home.  I hope it’s enough that, when they go off to college or get their own apartments, little hearts float out their doors and windows whenever they open them too.

THAT is what I want my children to remember about their childhoods.

The hand-me-down kid

This photo was taken in 2009 when Georgie was 9 years old.  The coat was beginning to become one of those things which only Losers wear. Not cool. Makes me itch. Rather be wet. You know the sort of thing.

Such a good coat I saved it for his wee brother, then aged 2. Hmmmmm. Number two son happens to be of monster proportions. He is destined for the Front Row in the Rugby First 11. So, here we are, aged soon-to-be-5 and wearing the same coat.

Poor Ollie, by virtue of his enormity, has become the hand-me-down kid. On paper, a 7 year age gap should have saved him from this indignity, but no.  A combination of maternal thrift and plain common sense has led him to this inevitable place.

We have second-hand school uniform. Second hand hats and gloves. Even, in a few cases, second-hand knickers. He never complains. Blissfully unaware of his largeness.

I am considering whether to cease feeding him. I fear that by the time he is 6 he could be actually SHARING his teenage brother’s wardrobe.

Anyone else do the hand-me-down thing?

Other posts you might like:-

Life’s a Journey – My earliest baby photo

A tatty old box full of memories

Unfortunate Christmas incidents – the doggy v dolly ‘face-off’

‘Life’s a Journey’ series, Week 2: The School Portrait

From last week’s ‘my earliest baby photo‘, this week we’re taking a step forward a few years to those heady school days……..

1974. Another miserably disappointing year for the eagerly awaited school portrait.

I was 7 years old here, and my brother 9. This may have been the moment that prompted my mother to initiate a Twiggy-like hair crop which lasted for the remainder of my school days.

There are many more chronically tragic photographs which my parents handed over their hard-earned cash for. That’s truly a show of love, don’t you think? No matter how appalling the image, we will part with our actual money for the privilege of having it on our mantlepiece as part of our family stories.

God knows why, but in my father’s lounge, some of these abominations are still sitting on faded show, almost 40 years later.

Me? 2nd row from back, 4th from right. Yeeeeuuugh!

Next week we will shall be marking your old school work out of 10. Maybe you have an old exercise book, or a painting, or some kind of awesome model which you created in Primary school which your parents couldn’t bring themselves to throw away? Get ready to share!!

Post an entry to your own Blog  and use the Linky tool (link below) to enter your memories into the fray. If you like, just leave a comment and join in that way, but do join in.

If you feel sexy, grab the code too (just follow the link) and post it into your Blog entry – that way, everyone can pay it forward as they say – it’s good to share.

Please visit the other blogs on the list and leave a comment or two – it makes everyone’s day!

Powered by Linky Tools

Click here to enter your link and view this Linky Tools list…

Other posts in this series:-

Week 1 – ‘My earliest baby photo’

About the ‘Life’s a Journey’ family stories series.

Each Tuesday I will revisit a memory from some part or other of my life, and the idea is that you join in and do the same! Don’t leave me exposed, man.

There will  be moments of fun, moments of sadness, and probably some bad hair errors, but don’t be put off.

Find out more about joining in with ’Life’s a Journey’  here.

The Middle Ages

Oh poop. It’s here.
At almost-45, I can’t really deny that I’m firmly entrenched in middle age. I mean, I literally did the maths. 45 x 2 = (oh crap) 90!
I am not sure why this has taken me by surprise, after all I’ve had 45 years to see it coming!

When my parents were 45 I was just entering my teens. Man, they were so uncool, ugly, boring and a little bit fat.

My mother wore those god-awful shoes which made her look 100 years old, and when she was on the beach she would still wear a t-shirt so that the sun-burn marks showed (beyond disgusting).

My dad would always be telling me to “do your coat up”. Nag, nag, nag.

Me, looking cool in 1982 with my sooo untrendy ciggy-touting mother.

And why oh why couldn’t she learn to wear her make-up properly? Where’s the eye-shadow and blusher for heaven’s sake?! Tuttt.

And not forgetting the fact that they were always drinking TEA on hot days. And they both had ugly feet.

Oh yeah, and if we were in a cafe, she would, like, actually complain and send things back….so embarrassing!

Man, I do miss her.

It all seems so perfectly reasonable now I’m 45 too.

Lord save me from the venomous opinions of my offspring.

Note to self – less complaining, more blusher.

Post originally guested on MomBlogSociety.

Other posts you might like:-

Life’s a Journey – My earliest baby photo

A tatty old box full of memories

Unfortunate Christmas incidents – the doggy v dolly ‘face-off’

Mobile Memories

Instagram is an awesome little bit of kit.

In spite of the fact that we own a very expensive camera, I tend to find that I take the vast majority of our photos on the iPhone these days, and beautify them in seconds.

Life happens in an instant, and modern technology means that we don’t need to miss a beat.

Here’s one of many of my fave recent Instagram pictures, just for the fun of joining in ‘the Gallery’ over at Sticky Fingers’ blog. It’s me and Ollie, just about to fall down a cliff backwards because he’s squeezing too tight…..

Snapseed is an equally good toy, by the way.

Check out my new weekly Blog series “Life’s a journey”, which began this week. Each week we will revisit a memory from the years of our lives, whether from childhood, growing milestones, or simply poignant family stories we’ve all experienced at some time or another. Subscribe to our feed to make sure you get the prompts each week.

Life’s a journey, SaveEveryStep.

You may also enjoy :-

Baby Shoes, revisited 12 years on

 

 

 

 

A tatty old box full of memories

 

 

 

 

 Oh, what a luvverly war!

‘Life’s a Journey’ series. Week 1: My earliest baby photo

It’s a new year, so time, thought I, to start a more regular series of posts to this family stories Blog.

As you know by now, my obsession is the preservation of our family stories and memories for future generations.  Our children are unlikely to ever ask us about our past until they themselves feel a sense of mortality, by which time it may well be too late, as I found to my cost. The photographs of my mother’s early years may sit in their box, but they lack narrative and context which I am unable to provide since I was simply not there and now neither is she.

A determination to ensure that this doesn’t happen to another generation has led me to this point. It is a parent’s obligation to capture for safe-keeping the memories which we make with our children each and every day as they grow and learn. Our legacy for them, all laid out in pictures and words.

Each Tuesday I will revisit a memory from some part or other of my life, and the idea is that you join in and do the same! Don’t leave me exposed, man.

There will  be moments of fun, moments of sadness, and probably some bad hair errors, but don’t be put off.

Post an entry to your own Blog  and use the Linky tool (link below) to enter your memories into the fray. If you like, just leave a comment and join in that way, but do join in.

If you feel sexy, grab the code too (just follow the link) and post it into your Blog entry – that way, everyone can pay it forward as they say – it’s good to share.

I am throwing down the gauntlet this week with the first in the series:-

 My Earliest Baby Photo

I believe I was about 5 days old in this photo, taken in 1967.

I was born on the bed in the very same house in which my parents spent the almost 50 years of their marriage together until mum passed away. Dad still lives there now.

If mum were alive, there is an outside chance that she might be shouting, “That’s a photo of your brother, you idiot.” But since she can’t really complain, I will go with it. It looks like me anyway….

I also recently found this rather moving letter which my dad wrote to me shortly after the birth of my youngest son. It still makes me weep buckets that my amazing but insular father could feel like this and never have told me….until just months after we lost mum. Amazing what a baby’s birth can do to a man. I love you, dad.

Now, go and find that photo of yourself when you were just a tiny pink squidge in a blanket, post it to your blog and tell us something about it (or just share a baby-me story in the comments), then post a link to it here for us to find…

Please visit the other blogs on the list and leave a comment or two – it makes everyone’s day!

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If you had to pick just one, what would be your definitive memory of childhood?

—
SaveEveryStep (@saveeverystep) January 06, 2012

Baby Shoes, revisited 12 years on

I just found these in a box, alongside a picture of the little man in question wearing them.

These were George’s first ever shoes. I saved them. I am indeed a sentimental old fool, but who could part with such a symbol of the great ‘walking’ milestone?

From baby to almost-hairy man in such a seemingly meteoric amount of time. Feet no longer cute or indeed kissable. Willingness to be kissed similarly dissipated.

I cannot think that I shall ever let these go.

Life’s a journey, save every Step (metaphorically and literally).