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Do you have a treasured keepsake from your childhood?


Heather Shay

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Do you have a treasured keepsake from your childhood?

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1 hour ago, Heather Shay said:

Do you have a treasured keepsake from your childhood?

My treasured keepsake from my childhood are my good memories of my childhood. Yes, there are a few. I get new ones all the time. And time only serves to shine them like gold.

Sigh,

Davie

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Well mine was passed down from my grandfather. It is a Barograph. Haven't had it unpacked since we moved from base housing in 1992. Still packed in a box.

 

 

s-l1600aa.jpg

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Sadly, nothing is left. I had a couple of things--a desk/secretary that was built in the 1890s for one of my ancestors, some paintings and a couple of porcelain  castings my father made in art school for his master's degree project. when I moved out several years ago, my now ex decided to smash the4 castings, rip up the paintings with a knife and let the dogs pee all over the4 secretary to the point it was unsalvageable.  Now3 I've got the memories, which she could not destroy.

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There are a number of things I've somehow managed to hang on to.

 

This little knife was given to me when I was a kid by my grandmother.  She brought it back from a trip home to the "Old Country" in this case Sweden.  Bone hilt and sheath, and holds an edge well.  It is still one of my most intimate possessions.  

 

There are other things that have come down to me over the years….   Couple pieces of furniture, few kitchen utensils - still used… some of my grandfather's tools (via my dad)… lots of little things, but nothing of value to anyone but me.

 

 

image.jpeg.3dd48e68425b9c0ca8977b314569d58d.jpeg

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5 hours ago, Marcie Jensen said:

Sadly, nothing is left. I had a couple of things--a desk/secretary that was built in the 1890s for one of my ancestors, some paintings and a couple of porcelain  castings my father made in art school for his master's degree project. when I moved out several years ago, my now ex decided to smash the4 castings, rip up the paintings with a knife and let the dogs pee all over the4 secretary to the point it was unsalvageable.  Now3 I've got the memories, which she could not destroy.

 

I'm so sorry you had to endure this wrath. I'm glad you can enjoy the memories, though. 

 

I have a somewhat similar experience, although passive aggressive. When I was 19, my mother moved without telling me. I came home from work, and everything was just gone, except for my stuff which was heaped in a pile in the middle of the livingroom. I had neatly packed up some cherished things from my childhood prior to that event and stored them in the attic. Among these things were some vintage dolls and an extensive carefully cataloged minerals and rocks collection which included several precious stones. When she moved, the attic was completely cleared out. When I asked her where my things had gone, she said she didn't remember. That was often her (convenient?) answer - no recollection. I was angry about it for a long time. Only about a year ago, at my urging, did she finally begin to seek therapy for her own issues. She was diagnosed with ptsd (which did not surprise me in the least), and she actually apologized for being "crazy" (her word) all those years and acknowledged how hard it was on me. 

 

@Jandi that is an awesome knife! 

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@Jandi that is amazing and priceless. ❤️

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When I moved out to go to college, my mother threw everything of mine away.  I came home to a great big empty.  I have always felt that she probably was attempting to spite me due to my personal struggle at the time with my sexuality and gender.  Looking back it doesn't matter why.  But, I have nothing.    

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46 minutes ago, Heather Shay said:

 that is amazing and priceless.

Actually there's more to this…

As a careless kid, I lost the knife out of the sheath.  Felt really bad.  But sometime (days) later, I was in the same area, and found the knife on the ground.

I was more careful in the future.

4 minutes ago, JamieGee said:

When I moved out to go to college, my mother threw everything of mine away. 

While I was in the army, my mother found a bunch of my poetry, and parts of stories.  She decided it was terribly immoral, and burned it all.  I laughed it off, but it hurt.  We had a complicated. relationship.

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21 minutes ago, Jandi said:

 

While I was in the army, my mother found a bunch of my poetry, and parts of stories.  She decided it was terribly immoral, and burned it all.  I laughed it off, but it hurt.  We had a complicated. relationship.

I'm so happy that I'm not alone with this.  

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16 hours ago, Jandi said:

There are a number of things I've somehow managed to hang on to.

 

This little knife was given to me when I was a kid by my grandmother.  She brought it back from a trip home to the "Old Country" in this case Sweden.  Bone hilt and sheath, and holds an edge well.  It is still one of my most intimate possessions.  

 

There are other things that have come down to me over the years….   Couple pieces of furniture, few kitchen utensils - still used… some of my grandfather's tools (via my dad)… lots of little things, but nothing of value to anyone but me.

 

 

image.jpeg.3dd48e68425b9c0ca8977b314569d58d.jpeg

Wow! Jandi, that knife is beautiful. I would be afraid to use it for fear of damaging it.

 

And I get it about tools. When my eldest daughter got her own place, I gave her my dad's hammer that I got when he passed and a plane my grandfather had that was passed from him to dad and then to me. There's something special being able to build with the tools passed on through generations.

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8 hours ago, Marcie Jensen said:

Wow! Jandi, that knife is beautiful. I would be afraid to use it for fear of damaging it.

 

And I get it about tools. When my eldest daughter got her own place, I gave her my dad's hammer that I got when he passed and a plane my grandfather had that was passed from him to dad and then to me. There's something special being able to build with the tools passed on through generations.

Yes, tools. Or a knife. What it can mean. I still have my father's hunting knife. My father wanted me to be tough, not a "sissy." I used it to kill the first deer I shot. I've been vegetarian ever since. On the other hand, he knew my anorexia could kill me, so he forced me to eat, play football, work on a dairy farm, eat more—it probably saved my life. A tool can cut both ways.   

— Davie

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Beautiful knife, Hannah.  Nice leatherwork on th4e sheath as well. Have you considered going on Forged in Fire?

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