Sunday, February 9, 2014

To anyone else it's junk

To anyone besides us this just looks like an ordinary hutch with "stuff" in it... but every time I pass it I smile. The stuff in here doesn't cost much but it's priceless.... 


I won't explain it all but here are some of my favorite things....  (don't mind the dust!)


Some of our old books (we have more but they in other locations);

  • The top three were given to me by my grandma Petie & have my Uncle Buck's elementary handwriting in them. 
  • The fourth one down has a copyright of 1887 and belong to my great-great-aunt (if I remember correctly) 
  • "I Buried Billy" was written by Reed's great-great-great (I think I got that right?!?!) uncle. Billy the Kid was a close family friend to Reed's family. 

A picture of my mom from high school, with a picture of my aunt & uncle as kids in the background.  The glass is one my dad bought when we lived in Germany and it just reminds me of him.



Here is my dad when he was in 8th grade when he lived in Libya (Africa).  Funny story, this horse belong to his best friend's dad..... fast forward 30+ years & a world away and one of my good friends from college asked me if my dad's name was Bill.  I said yes, turns out it was his dad was the best friend!! Small world!

The candle sticks were made by Reed's grandad.



My great grandfather worked for the US Postal Service (on horseback), this was one of his saddle bags.


My father-in-law & grandfather-in-law were masters in the shop, with a passion for wood working and this plane belong to Reed's grandad.

These next two aren't technically in the hutch but they are my favorite possessions!  


Every since I was little I wanted this Jim Beam bottle from my grandad, he always just said "someday". Well, turns out that someday was on my wedding day!  It sits on shelf in the living room and every time I see it I think about my grandad.  I sure do miss that man.



This pocket watch was something I also thought belonged to me from a young age sense of entitlement???, it set on a shelf in our living room growing up.  It belong to my great grandfather Alexander Procurat.  On my 19th birthday my dad gave this to me along with a detailed letter (which I keep in a safe place) of the story of how grandfather came to America from Poland. It was one of the only things he came to the US with.

Like I said, to anyone else it's all just stuff, but there is a story behind everything and all these "things" hold a special memory. 



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