Bequeath the Story with the Heirloom!

 

What do you see--maybe an ashtray? Actually, this is an heirloom, and it comes with a story.

My late father-in-law, Edgar James Wood (1903-1986) was a cracker-jack piano player who was proud to be a long-time member of the Hermit Club in Cleveland. Whereas most members had to apply and hope they were accepted, he said (in an oral history interview) he was recruited to join when the former piano player retired.

This was during the the early 1930s, when Ed was dating his future wife (Marian McClure, 1909-1983). Some of the Hermit Club members were also involved in "The Troop," more formally known as the First Cleveland Cavalry, later Troop A, 107th Cavalry, of the Ohio National Guard. 

So Ed joined, too--even though he had never, to that time, ever been on a horse. The Troop assumed its members had no riding experience and geared their training to beginners. Still, Ed and his girlfriend Marian went to a nearby riding academy now and then to get exercise and experience. Ed's Troop commitment lasted about three years, and by that time, Ed and Marian were married and had started a family.

Over the years, Ed remained interested in the Troop, and when it celebrated its 75th Anniversary in 1952, he purchased this commemorative ashtray, which was used only for loose coins. 

From a family history perspective, this is an heirloom with a backstory about a man who was most at home in the city, not on a horse! Without the story, it would be just an ashtray. 

Heirloom is the genealogy prompt for this week's #52Ancestors challenge by Amy Johnson Crow. 

Heirloom Wreath and Snowflake for Christmas Eve

This delightful wreath is made up of handprints from my grandkids, traced and cut from felt and then glued onto a cardboard ring. The names/dates were written on the cardboard backing.

Another favorite holiday decoration is this grandchild recreation of a snowflake. 

We hang these handcrafted heirlooms on our front door every holiday season. The colors have faded a bit, but the memories are bright and merry.

May you have a peaceful and joyous holiday!

Heirloom Pin from Mom-in-Law I Never Met

During the holidays, I passed down this lovely silver pin to a member of the youngest generation in the family tree. It was given to me by my sister-in-law on the occasion of my marriage to her brother some years ago...and I wanted to share that story, with the pin, so the recipient would know the happy history of this graceful heirloom. 

Telling more stories

My late mother-in-law Marian McClure Wood (1909-1983) was the first owner of this pin. I'm sad to say she passed away before I joined the family. But fortunately, her granddaughter remembers how Marian loved to wear pins, and she also told that story as the pin's new owner listened intently. 

In fact, the family has a number of photos of Marian wearing a pin prominently on her lapel. Not this particular pin, but others. She had personal style as well as an artist's eye. The family has told and retold stories about the small animal statues she made while taking lessons from a world-class ceramicist. Plus I have a box of her needlework creations (tablecloth, gloves, doilies) to share with descendants in the future. My goal is to share heirlooms while telling stories so recipients get a sense of why these items are important to family history.

Keeping her memory alive

How I wish I could have met Marian McClure Wood, a talented, creative woman. I would ask about her creative endeavors and her early life as a much-loved only child. Of course I would ask about her memories of ancestors, with a few specific questions about an in-law who married three times. 

Mom-in-law Marian would probably have been amused to know her son married another Marian, who is a needlework enthusiast and a wearer of pins. 

Most of all, I hope she would be pleased that her creations are still treasured by the family and accompanied by stories about her life, keeping her memory alive for years to come.

"I'd like to meet" is Amy Johnson Crow's first #52Ancestors prompt of 2023. 

How a Family Heirloom Lives On

My paternal grandfather, Isaac Burk (1882-1943) and his older brother, Abraham Berk (1877-1962), both trained as cabinetmakers before leaving their hometown of Gargzdai, Lithuania, around the turn of the 20th century. They were seeking more economic opportunity in North America...Isaac ultimately settling in New York City, Abraham settling in Montreal.

That lovely piece of furniture in the photo at top, complete with special touches, was handmade by Isaac many decades in the past.

After Isaac died, the night stand was used daily by his widow, my grandmother Henrietta Mahler Burk (1881-1954), and then inherited by her younger son, my uncle Sidney B. Burk (1914-1995). 

Today, this heirloom has a special place in the home of my first cousin, who regularly talks of Isaac and Henrietta to his children and grandchildren.

Even without the actual heirloom, I do the same--telling descendants of Isaac's woodworking virtuosity and showing off the photo to give the next generation a sense of pride about their ancestor's creation. His name and his skills will live on!

The Story of a Well-Used Heirloom: Dad's Pinochle Cards

Dad (Harold D. Burk, 1909-1978) was born 112 years ago this month in New York City, older son of immigrant parents Isaac Burk (1882-1943) and Henrietta Mahler Burk (1881-1954).

Growing up, he played stoop ball and stickball outside his Manhattan apartment building. With friends, he also played a remarkably dangerous game of jumping between tenement rooftops. How did he survive? Even he seemed amazed, talking about it to me many decades later.

During my childhood, Dad and his brother and two brothers-in-law would gather around a card table and play pinochle after a holiday meal. The men laughed and chatted as they played a fairly cut-throat version of pinochle, sipping beer and keeping score. 

Maybe they played for pennies or nickels, and all shook hands with a warm sense of bon homie when they settled up. After every game, Dad would carefully tamp the cards in place and store them in their plastic case (shown above).

Remembering Dad and keeping his beloved pinochle set safe for future generations, along with these memories! 

--This is my week #38 entry about "fun and games" for Amy Johnson Crow's #52Ancestor series.

Keeping Up Connections Between Generations

Two years ago, the wonderful genealogist cousin of my mother's generation handed me a small box. Inside was a favorite piece of jewelry from the past. She had worn this silver pin for many decades, and now she wanted me to have it, along with stories of happy occasions.

Stories make items special

By giving me the pin and telling the stories, she was keeping up the strong connections between the generations. I never met many of the people in her stories, but I knew they were in our shared family tree. They came alive through her stories, which I think about when I wear this flowery pin.

I made a note on the box so that in the years to come, my descendants will be aware of how I came to own this pin and why it's special. 

Wait or give away now?

My cousin made the decision to give away some jewelry now, telling the stories in person as she handed each item to the recipient.

I've done the same with a few pieces of my own jewelry. When I gave a precious ring to a much-loved young lady in the next generation, inside the box was a story. I wrote about how my father gave this ring to my mother after the birth of their twins (my sis and me). The recipient read the story and asked a couple of questions, which I was delighted to answer.

The story will live on into the future, along with the ring, connecting later generations with the lives of ancestors who came before. Giving away the ring and the story now enabled me to reinforce the significance of the jewelry to our family's history.

One item at a time

Of course, not all of my jewelry and heirlooms are going to descendants at this time. But selected items already have new homes with family members, tangible reminders of our ancestral connections. Even relatives who aren't particularly interested in quote genealogy unquote will accept one item and a story! 

Dad and His Dechelette with a Snowball Fight

 

With snow on the ground here in New England, it's a good time to write about a piece of art featuring what seems to be a snowball fight.

My father, Harold D. Burk (1909-1978), was stationed close to Paris in the spring of 1945, a part of the U.S. Army Signal Corps helping the Allies secure the area as World War II was coming to a close.

When discharged in 1945, Dad brought home a few pieces of art that he had acquired in France.

This painting, which looks to my eyes like a spontaneous snowball fight, was painted by the "naive" French painter Louis Auguste Dechelette (1894-1964). Although I don't remember it hanging in my childhood home, I inherited it when Dad died.  

I packed the oil painting securely this week and sent it to a new home (as I've been doing with many artifacts from family history). I included a brief bio of Dad and his military career, which lasted from March of 1942 to October of 1945. It was autumn when Dad finally arrived home, but the snowball fight will go on forever in this Dechelette painting acquired while serving his country in France. 

Crafting, Heirlooms, and the Pandemic

Crewel embroidery on velvet
by Daisy Schwartz Burk, 1950s

The coronavirus pandemic has people crafting like crazy, me included.

This reminded me to continue documenting handcrafted items in my possession that will be heirlooms for the next generation.

At top, a pretty crewel embroidery picture stitched on velvet by my Mom, Daisy Schwartz Burk (1919-1981). She loved needlework like embroidery, petit point, and crochet.

Her mother, my grandma Hermina Farkas Schwartz (1886-1964), was a really expert seamstress and careful embroiderer. I have an embroidered bureau topper made by her that will be passed to the next generation. Grandma was such a perfectionist that the front and back of the topper look nearly identical. (Grandma wouldn't have approved of the messy wrong side of my embroideries!)

 Afghan made for me by my oldest niece. 2000s

The tradition of needlework has continued throughout my family. My sisters and I learned to crochet at an early age and we taught that skill to the kids when they were in kindergarten.

Here's a much-used, very colorful afghan made for me during the early 2000s by my oldest niece.

Afghan I'm stitching for my oldest niece, 2020

With the pandemic keeping me at home, I'm beginning to crochet an afghan for this same wonderful niece.

She picked out the pattern, my Sis bought the tweedy yarn, and I'm stitching while listening to genealogy podcasts during the Covid-19 pandemic.

There are more heirlooms to be documented and I see more crafting in my future as we play it safe and remain home, for now. 

PS: I wanted to include this lacy knit baby afghan, now in the hands of the little girl who slept under it decades ago and has grown up to love needlework herself!

His and Her Heirlooms from When We Were Born

With the Covid-19 pandemic keeping us inside since mid-March, I've been documenting family history by writing about heirlooms that will be passed to the next generation.

Wally's baby book and silver porringer

Today is a look at keepsakes from when my husband and I were born.

His: Baby Book and Silver Porringer

My late mother-in-law (Marian Jane McClure
Wood) was given a small baby book to record milestones in the life of her first-born child, my wonderful hubby.

Shown here is the baby book alongside a silver porringer, engraved with baby's initials (WEW). Although the book contains the names of several dozen well-wishers who gave baby gifts, this silver porringer isn't listed. Nor is it listed as a gift for "baby's first Christmas." Although we don't know who presented it to my husband, it's still a treasured heirloom.

The baby book turned out to be a bonanza for my family-history research. In it are the names of many people identified by family relationship, such as "Aunt Nellie Kirby" and "Grandparents McClure." Over the years, as I've fleshed out the family tree, I've recognized other gift-givers as great aunts/uncles and cousins.

By correlating the book with other sources (such as Census records and the diaries of my late father-in-law, Edgar James Wood), I've confirmed who's who in the family's inner circle, and also narrowed down dates for the death of people who don't appear.

Hers: Silver Napkin Ring

Marian's silver napkin ring from the Farkas Family Tree

In my mother's Farkas Family Tree association, the traditional baby gift was a silver napkin ring.

On one side was engraved the baby's initials (mine is shown here).

The other side was engraved with the birth date and "Farkas Family Tree."

No matter whether a baby was a boy or a girl, the Farkas Family Tree bestowed this napkin ring, personalized for each child.

Because I have the Farkas Family Tree meeting minutes from 1933-1964, I know that controversy erupted when the mother of a baby boy asked whether the gift might be something other than a napkin ring. After heated discussion during a family meeting, the mother was out-voted.

According to the minutes, this aunt asked for reconsideration several times at meetings over the years, only to be voted down every time.

Tradition won out, and all babies in the family continued to receive silver napkin rings. That's part of the legacy I'm sharing with my heirs along with this keepsake.

Grandma Minnie's Lavalier Pendant

Minnie Farkas Schwartz's pendant

My immigrant maternal grandma Hermina (Minnie) Farkas Schwartz (1886-1964) lived a modest life, with not a lot to spare for frills like jewelry. She and her husband worked long hours, standing on their feet in the Bronx grocery store they owned.

They took one "honeymoon" trip to Florida during retirement, decades after they were married. Otherwise, their big retirement extravagance(!) was renting an inexpensive bungalow outside New York City for a few weeks each summer.

Yet Minnie left each of her granddaughters a couple of fine jewelry pieces. I received the delicate gold pendant shown here, plus a diamond ring. Sis's inherited earrings have lovely European-cut diamonds. I'm documenting these heirlooms for future generations, and telling Grandma's stories to go along with the jewelry.

The question that Sis and I want to answer is . . . where did Grandma Minnie get this jewelry, and when?

Minnie's Immigrant Background 

Minnie was the second-oldest child of Moritz Farkas (1857-1936) and Leni Kunstler Farkas (1865-1938). The family lived in Beregszasz, Hungary, where Moritz managed agricultural land and leased some land for his own crops.

According to family legend, Moritz was so successful for so long that one year, he didn't bother insuring his crops. That year, a big hailstorm wiped out his plantings, leaving him financially ruined.

In 1899, Moritz sailed for America to make a new life, leaving his wife and children in Hungary. In 1900, Leni's mother sent her to America to reunite with Moritz, while the children remained behind. Finally, Minnie (age 14) and her older brother brought two of their younger siblings with them to New York to reunite with the parents. It wasn't until 1903 that the entire family was together in one small apartment on East 3rd Street in the Lower East Side of Manhattan.

Minnie and Teddy in the Grocery Business

Minnie immediately went to work to help support the family. She met her future husband, Tivador "Teddy" Schwartz (1887-1965) in a Hungarian deli in the Lower East Side. Initially, her family was against the match, but she eventually persuaded them to give their consent. Minnie and Teddy married in 1911, both 24 years old.

Teddy had to give up being an agent for steamship lines when World War I erupted. Instead, he opened a grocery store in the Bronx. For nearly 40 years, Teddy ran a store and Minnie worked alongside him, often relying on her younger sisters to care for her son and twin daughters.

The grocery business helped Minnie and Teddy to weather the Depression with sufficient food, but the stress of long hours standing on their feet hurt their health. Teddy moved his store several times as the population of the Bronx moved northward to more suburban-like neighborhoods. They took their first out-of-state vacation only after selling the store during the 1950s, when they were already in their late 60s.

Who Had Money for Jewelry?

Sis and I wonder how Minnie (or possibly Teddy) acquired the pieces of jewelry that we girls inherited. We agree there was little extra money until possibly after the sale of the grocery store. Maybe Teddy splurged for Minnie's special birthday or their 25th or 50th wedding anniversary? Or Sis wonders whether customers may have paid for groceries with jewelry during the Depression?

Next step: Asking an older cousin whether Minnie's mother might have brought some good jewelry with her from Hungary or inherited jewelry heirlooms from her ancestors. UPDATE: Cousin doesn't know of any inherited jewelry that came from Hungary, so the origin of the lavalier pendant remains a mystery.

What Does an Heirloom Look Like? Not Like This!

This is NOT a family heirloom!

Devon Noel Lee of Family History Fanatics was the guest expert for a recent #Genchat, all about downsizing with #FamilyHistory in mind. (You can learn more from her book.)

Devon posed thought-provoking questions about how to decide what to save for future generations. Judging by the relatively few heirlooms that I've inherited, clearly my ancestors did their own downsizing, starting with decisions about the handful of items they brought from Eastern Europe to America. My husband's family has been in America much longer and has had much more storage space, which is why so many interesting items have survived over the years.

It's so hard to say goodbye

During #Genchat, we had a lively discussion about how difficult it can be to let go of inherited items, especially if they provoke strong emotions about people, places, and events from our family's past.

Still, if we downsize thoughtfully and carefully, we can focus the next generation on items of special significance to our family.

Also, there was a lot of conversation about photos. My take-away: I have to get back to scanning, captioning, and dating as many photos as possible now. Otherwise, descendants may never know who's who.

My little red bench

I do have a number of heirlooms to pass to the next generation. That doesn't include the item in the photo at top. It's a wooden bench about 6 inches high and 12 inches long. Originally, the bench was red with some cutesy saying or song on the top.

As toddlers, Sis and I each had one of these benches, which we put next to the sink so we could reach to wash our hands. This bench has been repainted more than a few times during its long life, moving to ten different homes with me over the years. I'm not particularly attached to it. It just takes up little room and is handy to use whenever I need a step up.

However! No matter how many years it's been with me, I definitely don't consider this bench to be a family heirloom. It has no special significance, other than being a useful little bench. After I join my ancestors, someone else can repaint and reuse it or retire it--guilt-free.

Edgar Wood's Untraditional Fake Book

Edgar J. Wood's untraditional fake book--created from scratch!

My late dad-in-law Edgar James Wood (1903-1986) played piano to pay for his college education at Tufts.

He also played piano with college jazz bands to pay for summer trips to/from Europe during the Roaring Twenties.

Impressing Gershwin

After leaving college one course short of graduation, Ed tried to break through as a professional musician in New York City.

However, he felt like a little fish in a big musical pond, he told his son 50 years later. So he returned home to Cleveland, Ohio, with the hope of being a bigger fish in a smaller musical pond.

In 1934, Ed won a prestigious songwriting contest judged by George Gershwin. The newspaper headline read: "Gershwin Winner Plays for Meals." Even though he was talented, Ed simply couldn't make a living playing piano during the Depression.

Fortunately, Ed landed a job as an insurance adjustor, and stayed with the same company for 30 years. During that time, he married, had a family, and still got to play piano professionally on weekends and holidays. He liked the extra income--and he really loved to play.

An Untraditional Fake Book

Performing with bands at dances, weddings, bar mitzvahs, and other social events, Ed needed a wide-ranging repertoire. That's where his untraditional fake book comes in. ("Fake" because even if the musicians didn't know the song very well, they could fake it by following the basic melody--and fake because the real composers didn't get royalties on these non-officially-published versions.)

Edgar J. Wood (1903-1986) playing Christmas
carols on his Steinway Baby Grand Piano

Fifty years ago, Ed wrote out the musical notes by hand and typed in lyrics for dozens of old-time standards like The Sidewalks of New York, Deep in My Heart, and Silent Night. 

Today, commercial fake books are widely available--but back then, Ed chose the unconventional route of creating his own from scratch. He assembled all the songs he wanted into a loose-leaf binder to take when playing for an audience.

Flipping through the fake book, Ed could quickly read the notes and chords (and cue the guitarist or bassist) for nearly any song the band planned to play or was asked to play. Each song was on one side of the page, for his convenience, with chord changes noted here and there.

Sharing the Story Along with the Heirloom

The fake book has been in the family for a long time, but now it's about to have a new home. The original is being gifted to one of his grandchildren, along with a booklet telling the story of Ed's musical career (with photos, of course). I've scanned every page and created a replica fake book for other descendants to save, complete with the story of Ed's musical training and career.

Thanks to Amy Johnson Crow for this week's #52Ancestors prompt of "Tradition." Only two more prompts left in this year's challenge!

Artsy-Craftsy Marian Jane McClure Wood

Ceramic sculptures by Marian Jane McClure Wood, 1950s

Aren't these lively little creatures? They were all sculpted by my late mom-in-law, Marian Jane McClure Wood (1909-1983), the beloved only daughter of Brice Larimer McClure (1878-1970) and Floyda Mabel Steiner McClure (1878-1948). Marian married my dad-in-law Edgar James Wood (1903-1986) in 1935.

When her children were in high school, Marian began studying ceramic art with a world-famous sculptor, Edris Eckhardt, who--like Marian--was born and raised in Cleveland. Edris was in the vanguard of glass sculpture, inventing new processes and making a name with her innovative techniques.

My mom-in-law found joy and satisfaction in learning from Edris how to depict the animal world through careful crafting. She studied proportions and anatomy, trying different sizes, shapes, and colors to create lifelike ceramic animals with a touch of personality.

Marian was so serious about her ceramic art that her husband and father build a kiln in the basement of the Wood family home in Cleveland Heights, Ohio. They had to install special wiring to operate the kiln. This enabled Marian to fire pieces at home, at her convenience.

To share the story of these sculptures with descendants, I've written a brief booklet liberally illustrated with photos of Marian's sculptures. Each of Marian's great-grandchildren will inherit one of these sculptures, along with the story, at some future time.

My goal is to write a page or two about every family heirloom, so the next generation understands why these items have been so treasured. This way, they'll inherit the provenance and the backstory along with the heirloom itself.

Thanks to Amy Johnson Crow for this week's #52Ancestors prompt of "craft."

Treasured Heirlooms: Slatter Family

World War I bugle from Slatter family

Hubby's great uncle, Captain John Daniel Slatter (1864-1954) was a renowned military bandmaster with the 48th Highlanders Regiment of Toronto. But before that, he was a very poor boy from the Whitechapel section of London, who was placed on two successive training ships on the Thames to learn military and musical skills.

At age 11, he was on H.M. Training Ship Goliath, listed as band sergeant and solo cornet of the boy's band. A few years later, he was able to enlist in the Army. Then, after a stint in the 7th Fusiliers, he married and went to Toronto, where in 1896 he was the founding director of the 48th Highlanders kiltie band. He and the band toured the world in the early years of the 20th century, popularizing the kiltie band craze and serving as proud ambassadors for the 48th Highlanders.

During World War I, Capt. Slatter was Director of Brass and Bugle Bands for Canadian Military District #2. While stationed at Camp Borden, he trained 1,000 buglers during the war years.

My husband inherited a WWI bugle that we strongly believe was Capt. Slatter's, given to his youngest sister, Mary Slatter Wood (1869-1925). She was hubby's paternal grandmother, and she left several WWI artifacts to the family. This is just one. Another is a Tipperary handkerchief that is quite well preserved, now safely stored in an archival box (inside archival tissue paper) for future generations to enjoy.

52 Ancestors #8: Did They Ever Think These Would Be Heirlooms?

Over time, so many of the items left to me or given to me by relatives and ancestors have become treasured heirlooms, valued not for financial value but for emotional and sentimental reasons. This week's #52Ancestors challenge by Amy Johnson Crow is a great opportunity to think about accidental heirlooms, not just those intended to be special.

Above, the silver napkin ring awarded by my mother's Farkas Family Tree association to each newborn child, male or female. For years--seriously, years!--one of my aunts tried to get the tree to give a different gift to baby boys (like her son, my 1st cousin R). She was voted down every time. This napkin ring was an honored gift tradition for decades.

Above, another item that was an heirloom even in its own time. My grandma Hermina Farkas Schwartz kept this cut glass bowl close to her heart because, if I got the story straight, it came with the family from Hungary to America in the early 1900s. My mother inherited it and now I'm the lucky custodian, keeping it safe for the next generation.

But other heirlooms were surely not intended or appreciated as such. At right, a velvet banner used by my late father-in-law Edgar James Wood to promote his piano trio during 1950s/60s gigs in Cleveland. Did Ed ever imagine this would be an heirloom in the 21st century? I bet the answer is no.

We can never predict exactly what future generations will consider to be heirlooms. So we need to take good care of all these family items, just in case. And--most important--we need to tell the stories of why these are (or should be) heirlooms, so that information is passed down along with the items themselves.

For more about sharing family history with future generations, please check out my book, Planning a Future for Your Family's Past, available in paperback and Kindle.

Family History Month: Three Belles in the Bronx

Until I wrote this blog post, I didn't know what to call the technique used in this reverse-glass-painted picture that graced the walls of my childhood bedroom for so long.

This appears to be a modern form of tinsel painting, a 19th-century folk art where people or objects are painted in reverse on glass, then embossed foils from cigar boxes or tea packages are placed behind the glass to add dimension and texture.

Sis and I remember that our parents knew the person who painted this mid-20th-century piece, which features three graceful Southern Belles. Her memory is that the guy was a dentist whose hobby was tinsel painting, and many people saved beautiful foil for him.

Maybe the painter didn't know it would be displayed in the bedroom of three little girls growing up in the Bronx, New York?

The photo above doesn't do justice to this heirloom. Each area of the glass has a different embossed foil behind it. The fashion details are painted just as carefully as the delicate facial features. Now these belles are being passed down to the next generation, along with the family story.

Family History Month: Bequeath the Story with the Heirloom

During Family History Month, I'm continuing to write down the stories of the family heirlooms that will pass to the next generation.

This is an excerpt from two pages I wrote about my late mother-in-law's artistic ceramic sculptures. Hubby and I have three animal sculptures to bequeath. We want to be sure  descendants know more about Marian McClure Wood (1909-1983) and how she developed her interest and skill in creating these sculptures.

Between checking with family members and researching the teacher's name, I learned a lot about Marian and her artistry. On more than one occasion, she entered her sculptures in the prestigious juried May Show at the Cleveland Museum of Art--and her works were accepted for display several times! It only took a few clicks to find the records buried in the museum's digital archives.

Now Marian's grandchildren will not only have these sculptures, they'll know about Marian's artistic talent and take pride in her accomplishments. We're doing the same with other heirlooms so the stories get bequeathed along with the heirlooms for future generations to appreciate, including photos on the write-ups to be sure everyone knows which heirloom is which.

If you're writing down the story of an heirloom, start with what you were told or what you observed. Include details about the heirloom (what, when, where, why) and talk about the person who created it or treasured it. Explain why it's something for the family to keep. Even just a paragraph or two will give the next generation a better understanding of the history of that heirloom and the family.

This is part of the PASS process discussed in my genealogy book, Planning a Future for Your Family's Past.

Junk or Joy? Think of Future Generations!

Lots of wisdom in a recent Washington Post article titled: "Just because an item doesn't spark joy, doesn't mean you should toss it."

So many people are following the fad for saving only possessions that spark "joy" (based on best-selling author Marie Kondo's The Life-Changing Magic of Tidying Up). But this doesn't mean throwing out family history along with the family china that none of the kids or grandkids wants right now. UPDATE: Today's New York Times has a similar article, focusing on how many downsizers are coping with younger relatives' disinterest in having the family china, furniture, etc.

The author of the Washington Post article says that "passing down at least some of those possessions creates an important connection between generations and has a vital part in a family’s history." Her advice: save a few select things rather than everything. "Choose things that have special meaning — a serving dish that you used every Thanksgiving, old family photos . . . "

That's why the "chickie pitcher" shown at top is still in the family, while the magazine shown at right is not.

This pitcher, passed down in the Wood family, was part of holiday meals for as my hubby can remember (and that's a long way back). His mother, Marian McClure Wood, would put it out along with coffee and dessert on Thanksgiving and other occasions. We've continued the tradition in our family!

The Workbasket magazine, however, is a different kind of keepsake. My mother, Daisy Schwartz Burk, was an avid needleworker and subscribed to this magazine for at least a decade. But as part of my Genealogy Go-Over and in the pantheon of heirlooms, the four issues held by the family for 50 years have a very low priority.

Rather than relegate these good condition magazines to the flea market or recycle bin, I found them a new home: the Missouri History Museum, which collects magazines issued by Missouri-based publishers. The museum lacked the particular issues I was offering, and was especially pleased that the address labels were still attached.

I signed a deed of gift (similar to the one shown here) and donated all four issues, along with a brief paragraph describing my mother and her love of needlework. It gives me joy to know that Mom's name will forever be attached to magazines preserved and held in the museum archives. 

(May I suggest: For more ideas about how to sort your genealogical collection and the possibilities of donating artifacts, please see my book Planning a Future for Your Family's Past.)

Sorting Saturday: Daisy's Decoupage

My mother (Daisy Schwartz Burk, 1919-1981) loved to crochet and embroider, and even did a bit of needlepoint and petit-point in her twenties.

But she never did any decoupage. Nope, even though I remember her showing off this unusual, personalized metal lunch box made into a special purse.

My Sis read my original post (in italics, below) and corrected my faulty memory. It seems back in the early 1970s or so, one of Mom's bosses had this one-of-a-kind decoupage purse made especially for her as a Christmas gift. While Mom admired it, the darn thing was heavy and a bit clunky. Maybe Mom never even used it, Sis says. My guess is she used it a couple of times when going to work, just so the boss could see that she appreciated his thoughtfulness.

My lesson learned: Always ask family before recording the history of a so-called heirloom.

Which brings up a question for Sis: If Mom never made this decoupage piece, why the heck do we still have it in our possession after all these decades?

MY ORIGINAL STORY, now debunked by Sis:

In her late 40s, she (Mom) became interested in the craze for decoupage and decided to create a purse from a black metal lunch box (the kind with a domed lid for a thermos).

Here's the result, featuring magazine pictures she liked, cut out, and added in painstaking layers. Mom would be happy to know how much her descendants treasure these hand-crafted items, now family heirlooms!

Thankful Thursday: Passing My Parents' 70-Year-Old Wedding Album to Heirs

Saving my parents' wedding album by making a photo book for their 3 grandchildren

On November 24, 1946, the Sunday of Thanksgiving weekend, my parents, Harry Burk (1909-1978) and Daisy Schwartz (1919-1981) were married at the Hotel McAlpin in New York City. Today would have been their 70th wedding anniversary!

After so many decades, their wedding album was pretty beat up-looking (see below). So I decided to preserve it and share it with Harry & Daisy's three grandchildren now, along with the story of their courtship and marriage. This is also an easy way to be sure that a single heirloom album can be enjoyed by multiple heirs for many years to come.

Here are the steps I took, little by little, to make a pretty and romantic photobook from the wedding album:

1. Remove each 8 x 10 inch photo from its sleeve in the binder and scan it at high resolution. (I could have scanned without removing the photos, if the album was too deteriorated, but not necessary in this case.)

2. Clean up the images electronically and upload them to a photo book website (I like Shutterfly but others are also excellent).

3. Arrange the photos in sequence, adding the story of courtship and wedding as captions. Also, identify everyone in the photos by full name and relationship (so these details aren't forgotten by future generations--keeping family history alive!).

4. Add a touch of color to each page for visual interest (younger folks may find an all black-and-white book a bit boring).

5. Press the "order" button to buy multiple copies for multiple heirs.

6. The original wedding album will be passed to an heir in the next generation, as designated in my "genealogical will."

On Thanksgiving, I'm feeling thankful for my parents' wedding 70 years ago.