The Superior Express -

I don’t consider myself as a “Horder” but I will admit that I’m a sentimentalist. I want to keep things that have special meaning for me. My basement storage shelf area it is stacked with plastic totes filled with sentimental items collected through the years. As our family grew up, numerous photos were taken and organized in photo albums. With grandchildren added, the number of photo albums has increased. There are wedding dresses and prom dresses I couldn’t part with. There are special baby clothes kept that my sons once wore. There are baby books with monumental events, locks of baby hair, and ink-stamped baby’s feet, all recorded in those books. When our parents died, special items that had meant so much to them were kept. These were divided with the other siblings. My and my husband’s acquisitions are kept in marked totes. There are items from family weddings kept in marked totes. There is even a tote filled with my Granny’s things that she had given to me.

When my husband visits this storage area, he advises me I need to clean out some or most of this stuff, but I ask him “just where do I begin?”

There are meaningful“keepsakes” acquired over the years. I can never part with them. Keepsakes mean “a small item kept in memory of the person who gave it or originally owned it.” I seem to have a lot of those too, kept in boxes and drawers. There are class rings, a ring Granny gave me, jewelry that once belonged to my mother-in-law, jewelry my mother had given me including horse-shaped earrings. I’ll probably never wear them but she thought so much of them. There are quilts my mother and grandmother made that are precious to me, and there are the baby blankets that covered my babies years ago. There is my father’s military album book and medals he passed on to me. There are pictures made by our grandaughters and given to us. There are my mother’s, grandmother’s and granny’s recipes in a recipe box that were written in their handwriting.

A piece of furniture father and mother had passed on to me that once belonged to father’s grandparents sits in a place of honor in the bedroom. A china cabinet is filled with glassware belonged to my husband’s mother and grandmother. I have a bag my sister made out of one of my father’s shirts, and a throw I made for mother out of a horse patterned material.

When I view these treasured keepsakes, memories are revived. It brings that special person back into my thoughts.