Keeper of stuff

When my parents died eight years ago, I became the official 'keeper of stuff'.  Stuff that nobody else (my brother or two sisters) wanted to store, but felt guilty about throwing away.  I have totes full of letters, photos, slides, mementos, etc.  Over the past few years I've been very slowly going through the boxes.

One of the things I found was my mother's wedding veil.  Finding the veil was a surprise because Mom had always told us her wedding dress was lost long ago.  I assumed the veil had been lost as well.  I showed it to my older sister, who showed it to her step-daughter, who wore it at her own wedding this past August.

Congratulations again G and A!

Another thing I found, nestled in a small jewelry box, was my grandfather's dog tags from WWI.  This was another special discovery - I don't have many mementos from my grandfather.  He was born in 1896 in Indianapolis, Indiana and joined the army in 1918.  Later that year his unit was scheduled to deploy to the German front, but at the last minute Grandpa contracted the flu (yes, THAT flu) and had to stay behind.  He recovered and worked as a mechanic for the rest of the war, never leaving the U.S.

Grandpa's High School graduation.

After the war Grandpa returned to Indianapolis.  A few years later he met Grandma at a masonic dance, and they began courting.  Grandpa got a job selling carburetors throughout MN, SD and ND and spent a lot of time on the road.  I have an large box of letters that he sent to Grandma during that time.  He wrote several letters a week, and Grandma kept every one.

I love the old hotel stationery.

In 1926 they married and moved to Minneapolis.  In 1930 my father was born.  He was the only child they were able to have.  From what my father tells me, they were a very close and loving family.

I inherited my father's ears.

Grandpa came from a family of inventors.  His great uncle invented a rotary blade lawnmower, but never patented it - just keeping it for personal use.  Grandpa and his friend Dave Chandler invented a number of things, including the outboard motor used on boats.  They were forced to sell the patents during the depression.  I was also able to find his blueprints and patent papers among the boxes.

By the time I came around, both Grandma and Grandpa were in their seventies.  Grandpa developed Alzheimer's and his health deteriorated.  I don't remember much about him.  When we visited them, Grandma was the one who doted on us, and Grandpa stayed traditionally aloof.  He loved gardening, and grew African violets in the windows of their sunroom.  They and my parents often played bridge at a corner table in their living room.  We all took long walks around Lake Harriet, bringing bread to feed the ducks.

Lake Harriet in the background.

Grandpa died in 1987.  I still remember that day, because I was the one who picked up the phone when it rang.  I heard a shaky voice on the line, my grandmother's voice, saying 'Daddy's dying.'  I handed the receiver to my father, who spoke quickly with his mother and then left immediately for the nursing home.

My grandfather's death was my first personal experience with mortality, the first time someone that I knew died.  I wasn't overly affected by it at the time.  I had barely known him.  I remember wondering what I should be feeling, wondering if I should be more upset.  You feel what you need to feel, I suppose.

I wish I had more memories of my grandparents.  But I'm glad I am the 'keeper of stuff' and can go through these things whenever I crave a trip down memory lane.