It was just over two years ago when my mother died and my sisters and we divided up the family possessions, much of it laden with family history. Some went to Montana, some came here to Virginia, and some went to Kentucky with my oldest sister, Kate, who died back in May. I brought back a good chunk of that share of "things" along with others that belonged to my sister, thanks to the kindness and generosity of her spouse, Kim. Most of this stuff has little if any monetary value. Its worth lies in what it meant to Kate, to other members of our family who have passed on, and to those of us who survive.
There are rocks, of course, because it was Kate, who was such an eclectic collector. Some came from the family homestead, some collected in her worldwide travels. One contains an impression that family lore claims to be a dinosaur footprint. (I'd like to find a geologist and paleontologist to consult, or maybe I'd rather just stick to the story that was passed down, I'm not sure yet.) Kate had held most of the documentation of our family history, a subject that interested her more than her sister and I. That includes many photo albums, boxes of slides, and about a dozen tins of old 8 mm film that was shot by my father. There are also large photos of ancestors, some framed and some not, that I know only by name and scant reputation.
The most interesting aspect of this experience was the phenomena I experienced when handling Kate's things, going through them, and seeing what she kept and treasured, often wondering why. She kept personal correspondence from the family. There were many from my grandparents as I expected, because they were of the letter writing generation. My grandmother actually wrote the letters, but my grandfather always made sure there was some cash included. There were a couple letters from my father which really surprised me because I can't say that I had ever known him to write a letter. There was one from my sister Paula to Kate at girl scout camp addressed to Kate using her camp name, Jacob. I didn't read these, it seemed like prying, but I did read a couple that I had found from me that I didn't even remember writing and certainly were not worth saving.
The more I handled Kate's stuff, the more connected I felt to her once again, and I realized how alike we are in ways that I never knew. I have a bit of her collector instinct, which maybe I did realize at least in a way, because Kate was always the easiest to shop for at Christmas. We liked a lot of the same things and I knew if I saw something weird, unique, and quirky, chances are that she would like it too. I wish I could say that I shared more of her ability to organize and order her varied likes and interests.
I am home. The dogs were happy to see me, especially Maya. My van is full and very heavy, I'll work on unloading it over the next few days. These pictures are of Kim, Deborah, and the Kentucky critters.
These are small dogs in the house, Cache, in back, and senior girl, Bebe, in front.
This is Deborah's dog, Pixel, and Cache laying in the background.
Pixel on my lap.
Bebe on my lap.
Deborah is one of those friends who has been around so much and so long,
that she's thought of as family but there's not a familial term for her.
Reka, worn out from running with Pixel in the heat.
Under all this foliage and flowers are two large containers that Kate had given to my mother
years ago. They were at her house in Salina and then moved with her to the senior living
facility she was in, and then they came back to Kentucky.
Frank and Ricky
Deborah working her magic with the Big Green Egg.
Frank the cockatoo (Hi! Frank) is his favorite saying.
He can be very loud.
Kim with the canine crew.
Front to back: Bebe, Reka, Pixel, and Cache
Pixel on my lap.
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