I get a bad rap for being the Stuff Police, the one who gets between you and the things you love. While it’s true that I harp on those who have too much (including myself), and urge them to purge, edit, donate, toss, sell, clear out, hand down and throw away, occasionally — as you’ll see today — I say, “Hold on.”
The story of my grandfather’s lost-and-found paintings is an example.
Long, long ago, before he married my grandmother and fathered four children, emigrated from Scotland and settled his family in Pennsylvania, Samuel McCormack painted.
The remnants of this chapter in his young life — two 26- by 20-inch watercolors — are the only evidence we have of that interest. They hung in the family home, just outside Scranton, until 2013. That year, my mother’s oldest sister, my Aunt Margaret, age 98, and the last relative to live in the home, moved into assisted living.
My aunt never married nor had children, so my cousin and her husband took on the enormous task of clearing out the family home. My brother and I wondered what became of Grandpa’s artwork but didn’t dare ask, since we hadn’t been around to help with the house.
“They probably sold them to a roadside antique shop for $5,” my brother, Craig, sadly surmised.
An architect, Craig is also an artist, and he wishes he’d known his grandfather, who died before we could meet him. Craig wonders what might have become of Grandpa’s talent, if his work and family demands had been different. He wished he had the lost paintings, a piece of his grandfather and proof of an interest they shared. The idea that they might still exist somewhere haunted him.
Fast forward to now. We lost my cousin to cancer a few years ago. Her husband recently came to visit. He’s still sorting through her things, he told me. Then he said casually, “You know, I have these old paintings of your grandfather’s I don’t know what to do with.”
I froze. “You have grandpa’s paintings?!”
Within a week, the paintings were in my hands, then bubble wrapped, boxed and ready to ship. At UPS, the clerk asked what the value was beyond the $100 they offer as standard coverage.
I thought a second. The difference between sentimental value and monetary value is often hard to parse. Then I said, “Nothing. The only value is to my brother and me.” To Craig, who is now enjoying the art in his Michigan home, they’re priceless.
I share this tale, because it is a textbook example of what to save from a parent’s or grandparent’s estate, as opposed to what to let go of, which is my usual focus.
Here’s what to consider when deciding whether to keep, toss or sell a family heirloom:
Identify what’s meaningful. Separate what matters from what doesn’t. For instance, you might want to hang onto the following: wedding rings, especially if the marriage was worth honoring; items made skillfully by the loved one’s hand, such as artwork, needlework, wood carvings or quilts; musical instruments, especially if an heir shares a musical aptitude; and professional accolades. I have my parents’ military medals. My husband has the sign his grandfather hung outside his photography studio.
Save selectively: Don’t wipe out your family history. Do save a few pieces that have special meaning, that have a place in your home and that speak to your heart. For Craig, his grandfather’s paintings checked all the boxes. By selectively saving, you actually elevate items.
Share the story: A few cherished items may live among your heirs for generations — but only if you are selective about what you save, and if you convey why those few items made the cut. Though we didn’t know our grandfather firsthand, my mother told us stories about him, including his love of art, so his memory was alive to us.
Apply the keep test: If the piece is meaningful (as opposed to valuable), you love it, and you have a place for it other than in a box in the attic — keep it. If you cannot actively use and appreciate it in your home, don’t store it. Pass it on. If a piece is valuable but not meaningful, sell it. Use the money to buy something that would honor the loved one.
Cherish the small and few: Keep the pearls, not the piano. And remember, when everything is important, nothing is important.
Respect fate: When a piece of your past you thought was lost finds you, a piece you cherish and have not forgotten, that may be a sign to hold on.
Marni Jameson has written seven books, including “Downsizing the Family Home.” Reach her at marni@marnijameson.com.
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