Grandmother's attic

[dancerjodi]

When I was a kid, my favorite part of going to the Boston Children's museum was grandmother's attic. I could have spent all day in there, trying on hats and mismatched costume bits.

I've also always loved old homes, and have been lucky enough to live in or around them. Most of them had grand walk-up attics that housed the kinds of things that were at the museum. My actual Grandmother's attic was host to a lot of old dusty books, greeting cards (she saved everything), toys dating back to my father's childhood, and costumes. Gram loved hats and loved to dress in costume, and some of her old favorites were all stored in the attic. As my Dad and his Sister have been cleaning things out they've located hats from the 30s and 40s perfectly preserved in hat boxes, old party, show and halloween bits, and on the complete other side of the fence - old relics from when my grandfather was still alive (machinist manuals, engineer handbooks, rifle magazines).

My parents are going through a similar process in their own attic now too. Part is a finished room, where each of us took space for bedrooms at various points and my Dad had used for an art studio. The other half is unfinished and has served the family well as storage. As my parents scale down for a move to a much smaller place (and their ultimate move to "the lake house" for retirement) they need to find a home for things in there. I took my old plastic canvas dollhouse from them last week (my Sister's is still up there). My Dad is going to repair the old lamp I had in my bedroom as a child. Scores of oil paintings from my Dad and watercolors and pastels from his grandfather are stacked up, ready for transport to God knows where. The space where we'd play hide and seek, where we'd look through Dad's old art supplies when he had put down the brushes for many years, where my parents would stash Xmas presents before their presentation (which of course we knew about, and we'd sneak in to see what they were). Soon the space will be emptied. Soon a friend will store some things up there, which I think is the best tribute that special place could have.

My brother took some pictures and shared them in his LJ http://ej-geno.livejournal.com/259456.html that I thought some of you may like.

There is so much richness and so many stories in the stuff that lives in old places. Don't forget to check out your own from time to time, to remember what's important to you.

Comments

[protogeek.livejournal.com]

A wonderful thought, thank you for this.

[danaecormac.livejournal.com]

I LOVE looking through attics! I wish I could go through my grandmother's attic myself, but my aunt won't let anyone in the house. My grandmother probably has mint-condition National Geographics from the 40's and 50's, and so much other stuff. It's a shame that my aunt is like that, afraid the family is going to steal from her. The house is now a firetrap with all her OCD piled everywhere. I hope to Goddess that she doesn't fall asleep with one of her smokes in her hand because she would be dead instantly. It's pretty sad.

Anyway, LOVED the pictures your brother took.

[electricsoup.livejournal.com]

i love attics like that - and i had forgotten about that part of the children's museum. :) yours is beautiful - those pictures your brother took are worthy of framing.

thanks for putting memories back in my head that i had long lost :)

[roaming.livejournal.com]

In my case, it was my grandmother's basement. We just brought back a load of old photos trapped in a cedar chest down there. There's more, but for another haul. I frankly don't know any of the people in half of them, but imagine they're Italian relatives, most pics taken in the 1890s, or else why would she have them? I'll probably post a few after scanning.

Unfortunately, I don't have the same warm fuzzy memories of grandparents as you do. Mine were old world, and not in a good way. My grandfather was a sour, cigar-smoking, thigh-pinching, deer/pheasant shooting bigot who was always in a bad mood. My grandmother was okay: except when she'd sneak into my room to go through my closets and drawers when I was at school, looking for who knows, drugs or condoms maybe. Mostly everyone argued at the table, in Italian, while I swore that someday, when I had my own house, I'd eat dinner in front of the TV like everyone else I knew. Nevermind this five course over three hours crap! All my grandmother ever did was cook. All day. They once had three restaurants (not all at once), so I guess it's what she liked. Then she'd complain how crappy the food was, didn't taste good. Nope, no pleasing them.

Grandparents

[dancer.livejournal.com]

"Mine were old world, and not in a good way. My grandfather was a sour, cigar-smoking, thigh-pinching, deer/pheasant shooting bigot who
was always in a bad mood."

That sounds a lot like my great-grandfather. I wonder if its a function of the old-worldness? My grandparents were born here, but my great grandparents weren't.

"Mostly everyone
argued at the table, in Italian, while I swore that someday, when I had
my own house, I'd eat dinner in front of the TV like everyone else I
knew. Nevermind this five course over three hours crap!"

Heh, we only did that at large family gatherings at the holidays. I actually miss it.

"All my
grandmother ever did was cook. All day. They once had three restaurants
(not all at once), so I guess it's what she liked. Then she'd complain
how crappy the food was, didn't taste good. Nope, no pleasing them."

My great-grandparents had 19 kids, so there was a lot of cooking done, but they spent the least time they could doing it - nothing fancy! :)