This is personal. More personal than just a recipe or shared memory. I know this isn’t my typical daily post but I share so much with you, that I wanted to share just a bit more of my thoughts and feelings. XO San
What my grandma’s spoons taught me.
My grandma, 92 years young, recently “retired” from her home. The home where she raised her 8 children, grew old with my grandpa and made the best mac & cheese ever. The home where we learned to play pool, where haircuts were given in the kitchen and where her cupboards held small plastic cups etched with our initials. And let’s not forget the infamous living room décor of the big eyed portraits.
My grandma was a collector of “treasures”. Other people’s memories became her keepsakes, and I don’t just mean their china. She kept every thank you note and every engagement, wedding and birth announcement. Obituaries and anniversary cards were stacked high, and while others moved on from one stage of life to another, my grandma watched and held every second dear.
When she moved from her home to her new residence, her keepsakes, treasures, and memories were shared with family, including her children, grandchildren and great-grandchildren. I was given a box of old butter knives and spoons. And I just love them all. I initially thought they’d be great to use for my blog pictures. They’re the kind of spoons they just don’t make anymore.
But they turned out to be more than just props. They were Gorgeous. Beautiful. They make quite a collection. Each was different, unique.
Memorable. Old. Worn. Looking at these spoons, I was brought to tears. Each one uniquely, beautifully crafted. Aged, yet with a little gloss, they shined. They reminded me.
I am unique.
Old, yet beautifully crafted.
Worn, yet with a little gloss, I shine.
I am different. I am memorable.
I am apart of quite a collection.
I am breathtaking.
Sometimes seeing another’s treasure, we realize we are one too.
My Grandma Gillan at our family reunion this summer, August 2016.
Grandkids (not all are pictured)
Great-Grandkids (there are many missing).
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This is beautiful, Sandra. Thanks for the sweet reminder that we are all treasures. You bless me.
I just love you!!
I love this post about your Grandma thanks so much for sharing. God bless your Grandma.
I wanted you to know how I loved this post. I have watched for years the ” useless old things” meaning absolutely nothing to the younger generations. Everyone wants all they own to be new and matching. Grandparents old things are not treasured like my generation of treasuring them. When my parents died, I was given Mama’s silver chest full of all the silver dinner wear she had collected. I have it safely put away and use it on holidays. Every time I open the chest, I remember how special they were to Mama. They had their first 5 children during the Great Depression, she canned food on a wood burning stove and didn’t receive a wedding ring from my Daddy until they had been married over thirty years. It was such a different world then.
Thank you for cherishing your silver from your Grandmother ( who, by the way , does NOT look 92 years young !!
Grandma looks amazing. I looked at each of the faces and saw a mixture of joy, warmth and belonging. How precious. Grandma is a good “heritage giver” as evidenced by you and your gracious posts. Lucky family.
Blessings on your beautiful family. Hugs to GG.
That is so sweet and so well written! ❤️
Sandra, your Grandmother is my Aunt. She never let me call her Aunt. It was always Marge. She has been very special to me since I can remember. That would be approximately 65 years. I remember staying with her and Uncle Sam when I was about 6. She had a pet skunk. It was on the farm in Central City, NE. She has always loved everything, whether it is an animal or human. You are so fortunate to receive those special spoons. They really are only spoons, but they belonged to Marge. Now, that makes them special! I love Marge like a daughter would love her mother. Cherish and use those spoons. They are something you can enjoy for the rest of your life, with love from your Grandmother. Love, Jeannie Erdkamp Mahan