Posted on February 4th, 2025

The Soft Core of the Earth – Heirlooms

When I was a kid, I used to have a very large stuffed animal collection, like more than 100. I was always a lover of animals, and until I learned about how much blood, guts, and loss would be involved in the career, I wanted to be a veterinarian. I also stockpiled lots of toys and collectibles, everything from Masters of the Universe, G.I. Joe, and He-Man figurines, to baseball cards, anything related to skateboards and all things soccer. Today, as an adult, pretty much the only things I hoard are books and t-shirts. I don’t know why, but I feel the need to buy all my books (not check them out from the library), and I certainly buy more than I can ever read. It is a mild addiction, but I’m always reading, and it’s a far less dangerous habit than shooting smack. I wear t-shirts on most days, but at one point I actually counted, and I had north of 350. Now, I try to clean out my collection every year, taking a stack to Goodwill along with other clothes I no longer wear, yet I still probably buy 8-10 new ones every year. One step forward, two steps back…

But none of these things are “valuable” in the monetary sense. Over the last few years, every time I go back to see my folks, my mom would have 6-8 boxes pulled down from the attic of stuff for me to go through and decide what I want. Most of it I scan over quicky and dismiss to the donation/trash pile, some I linger on briefly to absorb their memories, and then decide that’s all I’ll need of it for the rest of this life, and other things I reattach to as tightly as I did when I was a kid, setting them aside for my mom to store back in the attic and me to revisit when my folks’ time is done and I have to make final decisions on all of the things in their house. Some I set aside simply because I think they might be worth some money, old toys, mostly. The reality is, even if they are worth a lot of money, I’m probably never going to take the time to try and sell them. But I think the reason I do this is because of a specific incident back in high school when I sold an At-At and a bunch of Star Wars figurines to a friend for dirt cheap and he turned around and sold them for like five times as much. I’ve always been an easy-fix kind of guy and never diligent enough on some things that potentially matter, so chalk that up to an enduring character flaw…

There was nothing on back then when there were only three stations. Today, there’s still nothing on and we have 300. (Image retrieved from here and comes courtesy of Rene Terp.)

Some of the shirts I’ve kept I’ve only worn a few times, or in some instances, never. My rationale is that I don’t want to ruin them, but it’s not like I look at them frequently. But on the odd occasion that I break one out for some special happening, I do revel in wowing my friends that I have this super cool shirt from 25 years ago in pristine shape. Then it goes back in the bin until the next time, which very well could be 25 years from now… But most of the stuff I’ve kept as a kid or as an adult is not especially valuable monetarily, and largely only symbolically valuable to me on an individual level. Which is fine. But my parents do have some things that may be worth some money (not that that is the important aspect to me) but also have some family history (more importantly) and would be appealing to others because they tell a story about my family, or perhaps just capture some long-gone era.

Unfortunately, a lot of these things have slipped out of my family’s possession, either through spring cleanings, accidental donations during those cleanings, or because earlier (in my life) desires evolved too late. My dad used to have this large mahogany-cased radio from the 1940s that I passed on – because who at 22 wants something like that? – and he donated it to their church for the rummage sale. It probably went dirt cheap and resold for quite a pretty penny if that was the purchaser’s intention. Fortunately, he kept an early-1950s TV set, the kind that has maybe a 6” screen. It’s still in their basement, but one day I plan on putting it in my living room (the biggest room in my house) so that it’s the center of attention (I haven’t had a TV in the main room of my house for about a decade). It’ll be an ironic commentary on our contemporary culture.

My dad also gave away a suit of armor (more decorative than something that could’ve ever been worn in battle) that we used to call the “boogie man.” Again, I’m sure he asked me if I wanted it, but at the time he would’ve done so (when I was between 22-25), I wasn’t interested. The same goes for my grandmother’s grandfather clock (at least that went to another relative and maybe I can get it back someday). I do now have in my possession a grandmother’s clock that was a gift to my parents for their wedding from my great aunt and uncle, as well as a pair of serving dished they got in India in the 1960s, a camel saddle from Egypt my great uncle brought back after WWII, and a marble lamp they brought back from Italy for my grandparents. So, fortunately, I’ve started to pay attention to and appreciate all of these really cool family heirlooms. I wish I’d started doing so earlier in life, but so it goes…

I’m not sure why all this mid-century modern and Art Deco stuff is so appealing to me – sure, they’re family “treasures,” but if they weren’t cool, I wouldn’t want them (case in point, I don’t think there’s anything from the 1980s of my folks that I want). Most of this stuff was simply in the background when I was a kid and a young adult, and maybe all of it reminds me of simpler (better?) times. If so, there’s certainly nothing wrong with that. I guess after my folks are gone, aside from some pictures, those will be the most tangible memories I’ll have of them…

Now that I’m firmly middle-aged and a homeowner, whenever I need something that can be sourced from the older eras, I do it. I bought a 1920s roll-top desk, a bookcase from the 1940s, and a little table with a drawer from around the 1950s. This approach doesn’t apply to mattresses and sofas (I don’t want 70-year-old or used versions of that kind of stuff), but I guess I just really appreciate the “old days,” even if I wasn’t born when these things came into being. All of the older furniture that I’ve picked up secondhand obviously aren’t heirlooms, but they do serve as a supporting cast in complementing those things that are from my family. It helps that my house was built in 1957, so much of it fits quite nicely (I even still have the original, working oven!). The rest of my decorating style needs some help, though. Aside from the tasteful pieces from decades past, the rest of my décor looks like aging-frat-guy-bachelor, so not exactly a motif that screams style. But I’ll work on that. Maybe…

My dad is a sentimental guy, and I guess I am, too, perhaps more so than I’m willing to admit. There are probably deeper connections to some of these things than I’m currently aware of, so maybe those feelings will continue to show themselves as time wears on. In the meantime, I’ll continue to feel the comfort of a well-worn home steeped in family history still to unfold.

Marco Esquandoles
Old Soul

 

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2 Responses to The Soft Core of the Earth – Heirlooms

  1. Sean says:

    I always appreciate your thoughtful sentiment.

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