Why Didn't I Buy Heirlooms in Mexico?

Heirlooms and I

     The past six months have found me moving from one house to a smaller one. I was the end of line repository for my husband's family and my family heirlooms. Handling each one I needed to make a decision of what to keep. My Millenial daughter said, "Just get rid of all that stuff, mom."

Living in Mexico from 1995 to 2001

     I have been tying my blog into my family's story of living in Mexico. For this poignant story about heirlooms it wasn't hard to find something to think about or write about. We unexpectedly returned to the United States and when we finally settled and unpacked in Arizona, I realized that although I'd purchased many, many beautiful handcrafted gifts for others, I'd never bought one thing for our own family and now it was too late. All I have are photos, no objects. Yet this was a significant period in our family's life. NO HEIRLOOMS for the future. We don't think about the fact that we are creating the heirlooms for our grandchildren.

The Story of the Symbolic Quilt 

     Last fall I realized that I had several handmade quilts that are never used in Arizona's climate, so I decided to send them to my daughter who now resides in Michigan because I know she could really use them. One however became quite a symbol for heirlooms in our day and age.
     My grandmother had made this certain quilt in red, white and blue. I loved it. It was patriotic. It was made from seed or flour sacks. But it had a history. When a stepson was about 11 years of age, he was about to get caught reading in bed under the covers of the lower bunk bed late one night. He tossed his lamp, still lit, under "my" quilt on the top bunk bed and forgot about it. It smoldered all night long. A hole was created in it.
     Because I loved that quilt so much and it was the last thing my grandmother gave me before she died, I was devastated. Over the years I tried to find a seamstress or quilter who could repair it. I'd even tried to find matching fabrics for this purpose over the years. Alas, no one could tell me how to repair it or do it themselves until last fall. A friend decided we should try to salvage it by patching it and then I could send it to my daughter in Michigan. When the patch was finished and it told it's own story, we washed the quilt one last time on gentle cycle to see how it would do. It fell apart.

So the Story has Another Twist

    The materials used to create it couldn't withstand the repairs that had stronger threads. Now it sits in a closet awaiting a wall mounting, because it can never be used as a quilt again cuddling my grandchildren in harsh Michigan winters. Now only I will see it when I go into a room I seldom use. Only I appreciate it's history and story.
     The beloved heirloom was made from free easily found materials that were unable to withstand the test of time, it was treated negligently, it's burnt hole was after many years unfixable. Now the quilt stands as a symbol of all heirlooms who were made with love from perishable materials, then treated with indifference, put into attics, packed away until an "Antiques Roadshow" moment, left unloved under the bed or in a long forgotten box only to be remembered too late. Oh, let us not procrastinate taking care to create quality heirlooms for the future and preserve the ones we have inherited with care.