Are you weighed down by the stuff of your family’s memories?
That box of sentimental stuff handed down to you would mean a lot more if you knew the stories behind the stuff, wouldn’t it?
Passing along our stories to our children and their children is a valuable endeavor, and in my experience one almost always met with joy and gratitude (even if not immediately, on occasion).
People with whom I have worked to preserve their stories have told me their family members tell them they “love” their life story books, “cherish” them, are “in awe” of them. When sharing their books, my clients have been met with extended hugs, laughter, dancing (“my father shimmied around the kitchen with glee when I showed him what I wrote,” one individual told me), and even tears.
But often it’s not stories that are passed on, but boxes of things laden with sentiment—and without context, those boxes can take on undue weight.
In recent weeks I have met with one person who told me she had a large stack of letters written between her parents during World War II. She knew that they were written in German, and that her father was in a work camp at the time. She didn’t, however, know what was within those letters, as she has never taken the time to have them translated or to read them. And now, she told me, she wasn’t even sure where they were. “But they haunt me,” she said.
Another person I visited told me her mother had recorded a Holocaust testimony with the Shoah Foundation in the 1980s (well, she said “she told Steven Spielberg’s people about her Holocaust experience”). No one in the family knew how to access it. They did not have a copy. They did not know the name of the foundation. Even her mother did not recall what she may have said during that long-ago oral history interview. Certainly the weightiness of the subject matter may have given anyone pause, but to let such a personal history get lost would be a tragedy.
And yet another current client told me, near the end of her project, that an aunt had just randomly stopped by to drop off a scrapbook that had been lovingly crafted by my client’s grandmother. The aunt was moving to another house, found the scrapbook tucked away in a closet, and, knowing my client was interested in her family history, figured she would be a better custodian of the materials. She was fortunate—many people who feel burdened by their ancestors’ things don’t have a family member with such interest to hand them off to.
As I think about these things—about how we can feel burdened by our parents’ things, about how stories can so easily get lost—I feel a bit sad, yes, and also compelled to spread the word.
Do you have sentimental boxes of family mementos you don’t know what to do with?
First, think about who might be the best custodian of your family’s archive.
If there is an obvious family history buff in the family, see if they may want the items. If not, then ask around—you might be surprised to learn a teenager or distant cousin may have a greater interest than you’d expected. The sooner you can pass the items on to someone who will regard them with interest and respect, the better. (Are you this person? I’ve met numerous people who tell me they have no interest in sleuthing through these “old things,” only to be drawn in as I curiously pull photos or war medals out and show interest in what they reveal!)
Second, do what you can to restore context to the things.
Even if you don’t have the time or inclination to write a whole book, consider labeling photos with names, writing mini-histories of heirlooms, and at least telling your kids what you know of the contents of that old box in the basement. Spend an hour or two with a sibling or parent to record your memories of all that stuff—it can be as simple as capturing audio with your phone’s voice recorder. Spare your descendants the burden of passing down an archive of things they know should have meaning, but not why.
Third, let go of guilt.
Perhaps you were the recipient of such a box of “cherished” things that came to you without context or meaning. Sure, that watch may have belonged to one of your grandfathers, or it may have been a flea market find that he never wore but stashed in a box…but you hold onto it along with everything else because you feel you should. This is a rich topic that could warrant a few thousand words (heck, the comments alone on some articles covering this topic are worth a read!), but in my mind, as long as you move forward with intention, it’s okay to let go of things that hold no meaning for you.
Do you have a dusty box of so-called heirlooms, letters, or family photos that were passed down to you without context? What are you going to do with them?
Further reading on how to be a good custodian of your family history:
From a conference hall filled with more than 150 family history vendors, I have hand-picked my favorites—here’s why you’ll love them, too.