Aunt Jane and Uncle Ivo did not have children of their own.
I never knew why for sure. This was not a topic discussed by that generation, other than in whispers. I remember asking my mom "why" once, but don't remember the answer. I was pretty young at the time. I really need to remember to ask Aunt Yvonne, mom's youngest sister.
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| Jane and Ivo - 1946 |
You would think that since there were no kids to fight over the estate, that for once there would be no family squabbles. Unfortunately, that isn't the case. One family was closer to Jane and Ivo than anyone else, so I always assumed they would be the beneficiaries of their estate. That is what happened - and rightfully so. One person has quit speaking to everyone else in the family because of this. I want to shake her 70+ year old body and say "grow up". It was theirs to do with as they wished. Period.
Jim and I find ourselves often taking on the roll of caretaker of memories. We like to preserve the past. Our kids will be left with the task of deciding what to do with our addiction when we're gone.
Sorry guys!
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| Iron Bird Feeder |
This iron bird feeder was hidden away underneath one of the sale tables. Jim spotted it first. It was love at first site. We have no idea how old the feeder is or where they had it. They had a farm in Lohman, so I'm thinking it might have been there. Or maybe their back yard. I just don't know. There is an iron spike that sticks into the ground to stabilize the feeder. One. There used to be four. The remaining one will probably break off soon, but the feeder is heavy enough that it isn't going anywhere as long as it is sitting solidly on the ground. We need to put on our thinking caps and figure out a way to repair it, but for now, I'm enjoying just seeing the birds flock to their new/old restaurant.
This carpenter's box had to come home with us. It is rustically primitive. Since I don't know its story, I've had to come up with my own. I'd like to think this box belonged to Ivo's dad. I can just see him loading it onto the back of his buggy or model-T at the turn of the century as he headed out for a long day of work.
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| Carpenter's Box turned Game Chest |
We were outside loading up some of our purchases, when I happened to walk back into the auction hall and the auctioneer was holding this skillet in the air. I raised my hand to bid and he said SOLD! I got it! I've been wanting a good old, already seasoned, cast iron skillet this size. My friend Patti at Osage Bluff Quilter says she has been watching for a Wagner #11. This one is a Wagner #12. Close enough? Although I've yet to fry chicken in it, I've used it several times. Love, love, love it!
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| Iron Skillet |
These pillow cases were my steal of the day. They were preserved in a plastic bag. The auctioneers had thrown them on the table with old linens, bath towels, and such. It was towards the end of the sale and they were the last thing I planned to bid on. By this time the auctioneers were lumping things into piles and these were added to a pile of towels and pretty much worthless kitchen stuff.
Since I was the only bidder, I'm pretty sure I was the only one who knew what treasures that pile of stuff held. stuff. The auctioneer said, "who bids $2". I raised my hand. "Do I hear $3.00". I kept my hand in the air. "$2.50" I kept my hand in the air. He finally looked at me and said "I already have you at $2". I didn't care. I was taking no chances. Finally, I heard "SOLD for $2 to # 159"
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| Lace edged pillow cases |
I like to think Jane & Ivo's neighbor lady, Mrs. Gadd, crocheted and embroidered these beautiful pillow cases. They are too pretty to use. I will probably display them on a quilt rack.
Shame on the auctioneers for not valuing what they were selling more.
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| Embroidered Pillow Cases |
My new favorite yellow coffee cup was also included in that $2 pile of handiwork.
As I sit here blogging and sipping coffee, I think of the need to start documenting the stories of the many antiques and family items we have chosen to preserve. Hopefully my children and grandchildren will want to carry on the tradition of keepers of memories.
