Heirloom Treasures

by Susan G Mathis

Whether it’s a quilt, a woodcarving, lace, furniture, Christmas ornaments, trinkets, pocket watches, recipes, photos, paintings, portraits, dishes, decorations, military memorabilia, etc., an heirloom is something valuable that is owned and passed down from one generation to another. That's one of the many reasons I wrote, The Fabric of Hope. It's about a family heirloom that made its way to America, through Canada, all the way from Ireland!

I have several heirlooms that I treasure—my great-grandmother Susan’s rocking chair. My grandmother’s Singer sewing machine. Teacups and dishes, lace and trinkets, and, of course, my photos. My husband has quilts and afghans, furniture and recipes, pocket watches and military stuff. I purposefully add some of these heirlooms into my novels to give them a special place in history, in literature, and in our hearts.

Some were brought over on an Irish immigrant ship, as you’ll read about in my novel. Some were made with loving and skillful hands, while others were bought as a gift by a loved one. All are treasures.

They matter, because they connect us to the larger story—of family, of history, of heritage. They hold memories of loved ones, pieces of our past that bond us to one another and help us remember where we came from. And all of that is good, even if there are family skeletons, painful relationships, or stories we’d rather forget.

Liam Callanon said, “We all carry inside of us, people who came before us." It is a part of who we are, and so are the things they passed down to us. So I’d like to suggest that you pull out the heirlooms you have, and tell your children about them, about the people who gave you those items, and show your family that you treasure the past. It’s a connection you won’t want to lose.

"Like branches on a tree, we all grow in different directions, but our roots keep us all together."—author unknown

Do you have heirlooms that you treasure? Leave your answer or comments on the post below and join me on June 19th for my next post.



Check out Devyn’s Dilemma, Book 2 of the Thousand Islands Gilded Age series

1910, Thousand Islands, New York. Others may consider The Towers castle on Dark Island an enchanting summer retreat, but to Devyn McKenna, it’s a prison. Yet as she works as a maid for Frederick Bourne, former president of the Singer Sewing Machine Company, her life blossoms under the kindness of his family and fascinating entrepreneurs such as J.P. Morgan, Thomas Lipton, and Captain Vanderbilt. But more than anything, the growing friendship of Mr. Bourne’s valet, Brice McBride, begins to pry away the painful layers that conceal Devyn’s heart.

Brice is drawn to the mysterious Devyn even though he’s certain she’s hiding a secret, one far more dangerous than the clues they find in The Towers that hint of a treasure on the island. When Devyn is accused of stealing Bourne’s investment in Vanderbilt’s New York City subway expansion, he might not be able to protect her.



About Susan:

Susan G Mathis is an award-winning, multi-published author of stories set in the beautiful Thousand Islands, her childhood stomping ground in upstate NY. Her first two books of The Thousand Islands Gilded Age series, Devyn’s Dilemma and Katelyn’s Choice are available now, and she’s working on book three. The Fabric of Hope: An Irish Family Legacy, Christmas Charity, and Sara’s Surprise are also available. Visit www.SusanGMathis.com for more.

Lighthouse Publishing: https://shoplpc.com/devyns-dilemma

Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/Devyns-Dilemma-Thousand-Islands-Gilded/dp/1645262731

Website: www.SusanGMathis.com

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/SusanGMathis

Twitter: https://twitter.com/@SusanGMathis

Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/susangmathis

Pinterest: https://www.pinterest.com/susangmathisaut

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/6044608.Susan_G_Mathis

Treasured Family Heirlooms

by Pam Hillman

What is an heirloom?

Webster’s defines an heirloom as, “Something of special value handed down from one generation to another.”

As I ponder the meaning of heirlooms, I turn to the battered antique trunk at the foot of my bed. Its domed top and shiny brass accents shimmer in the late afternoon sunlight streaming through my bedroom window.

My husband bought the trunk at his great aunt’s estate sale several years ago. It is a beautiful old trunk. Battered, but sturdy, it cradles heirlooms handed down through five generations.

I flip the clasps open and lift the lid, letting the smell of old leather, musty books, and time gone by waft around me. For a moment, my gaze lingers on my treasures, old and new, before I reach for the baby clothes stacked on top.

I pull out dainty smocked suits that my children wore home from the hospital; a pair of tiny, hand crocheted booties; soft white and powdery blue blankets used to wrap my newborn sons in. Memories of those precious days parade through my head as I touch each object. I shake my head as I finger the baby clothes. It is hard to believe either of my young men were ever small enough to wear the tiny garments I hold in my hands.

Underneath a soft baby blanket, I spot a baseball glove, its brittle leather over thirty years old. The glove brings back memories of a brother whose life was cut way to short. Memories of the time he threw a baseball straight up in the air because I had decided I couldn’t miss it if the ball fell on me. I missed—and got a busted nose for my effort. But it really wasn’t my brother’s fault. The whole thing had been my idea.

As I dig deeper, the keepsakes grow older. I pick up a hymnal, dated 1907, a relic inherited from my husband’s great-great aunt. Its care-worn pages are a testimony to the many times Aunt Mary Ann lifted her voice in song. I can just see a dozen or so stout country women dressed in their Sunday best, hats perched just so, sturdy shoes dusty from their trek to church, lifting their voices in song. The song in my head fades away as the hymnal is placed carefully to the side.

In the bottom, I find a quilt. Not just an ordinary quilt—a special quilt—a quilt hand-stitched by my mother’s mother. I’m not sure how old it is. My mother doesn’t know, and Mamaw wouldn’t be able to tell us if she were alive.

I do know that it is old, and worn, the fabric stiff and shiny in places, the binding threadbare, the lining torn. It isn’t beautiful. Its pieces aren’t mirror images of each other, intent on showing off some delicate pattern. It’s a hodgepodge of color, shapes, and sizes. Some pieces of fabric are long and narrow, brown. Others tan, triangular. I spot a few pieces of dull green here and there. But even now, it has a thick sturdiness that guarantees a cozy night’s sleep on a frigid winter night.

As my fingers glide across the surface of the quilt, an image of my mother as a little girl, snuggling under the quilt, flashes like a movie clip before my eyes. As quickly as it appears, it’s gone. I sigh and lean over the edge of the trunk once again.

The afternoon shadows deepen as I examine each and every precious item in the trunk. I marvel at the black velvet pillbox hat with grosgrain ribbon Mamaw wore to church back in the 1940’s. I touch the cool metal of Papaw’s pocket watch, the stiff softness of his brown felt hat. The label inside says Adam, Fifth Avenue Quality, long oval, and I wonder how many hats he tried on, how long he stood in the store, before he picked just the right hat, just the right style, to suit him.

When I’m done, I carefully pack everything away, my trip down memory lane creating more and more memories, expanding, like sweet rolls set out to rise. I gaze out the window, enjoying a quiet afternoon reminiscing.

These heirlooms speak to me somewhere down deep inside. Their value is special, just like Webster declared. I knew the man who wore the hat, the woman who hand-stitched the quilt, and the young girl who grew up to be my mother. I have the memories to prove it.

And that’s what makes an heirloom special.

Do you have a special heirloom handed down from your parents or grandparents? We'd love to hear all about it!!!

CBA Bestselling author PAM HILLMAN was born and raised on a dairy farm in Mississippi and spent her teenage years perched on the seat of a tractor raking hay. In those days, her daddy couldn't afford two cab tractors with air conditioning and a radio, so Pam drove an Allis Chalmers 110. Even when her daddy asked her if she wanted to bale hay, she told him she didn't mind raking. Raking hay doesn't take much thought so Pam spent her time working on her tan and making up stories in her head. Now, that's the kind of life every girl should dream of. www.pamhillman.com

The Road to Magnolia Glen

I'm still celebrating the release of The Road to Magnolia Glen. :)
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History of Lovespoons

By Alanna Radle Rodriguez

Love Spoon, with chip-carved handle fretted with various designs,
National Museum Wales

In ancient times, you generally had to make everything you needed. Not to mention what you wanted! In clothing, you would have had to raise the animal, take its coat, tan or wash, spin, weave the fabric, and sew your clothing and anything else like bedding. For the kitchen, you had to make everything too, either by black smithing or carving wood. Anything that is made out of wood that was used in the kitchen, including cutlery, plates, bowls, even cups and mugs, were called treenware.

Pushkin State Museum of Fine Arts Cosmetic Spoon Ca. 1550-1069 B.C.

One had to eat and drink and keep the mash contained and not running down into the cracks of the table to plop on the ground for the dogs to lap up. The art of carving spoons out of wood was an ancient necessity. But did you know that spoons were eventually carved for romantic purposes? You read right. Love spoons, or lovespoons, depending on whose article, whose book, whose history you read, have quite the history, beginning roughly in the mid-17th century. The practice itself is probably ancient, and unrecorded, because people weren’t concerned with documenting history like people are today. Therefore, finding a dated love spoon is a special and rare find. The earliest recorded love spoon, supposedly, was a Germanic spoon in 1664. In Wales, their oldest love spoon dates back to 1667. According to David Western, a cabinetmaker turned carver, in his book Fine Art of Carving Lovespoons, the practice of carving love spoons probably existed from Sweden to Hungary. 

Love Spoon, dated 1735, National Museum Wales

Love Spoon, with bowl at each end, National Museum Wales

Love Spoon with ridged stem and curved terminal, National Museum Wales

Love Spoon, with heart-shaped opening on handle, National Museum Wales

Pretty much everyone agrees that a young man, during the cold winter months, would carve a spoon for his intended. Some would even say that it started as a way to pass time on the ships, a sailor carving a spoon for his intended. Quite frankly, that just drains the blood right out of my veins thinking about trying to carve on a wave-bumped ship.(Have you heard of Scrimshaw?) Both myths are probably true, depending on which part of the world you find yourself in. We know that sailors and ships influenced the designs decorating the spoon handles because of the ships found engraved on some of them. Although there is no proof that the acceptance of a spoon meant engagement, the story that got me hooked on love spoons was by a carver who told me that, “Guy likes a girl. He carves her a spoon. He goes to her house, puts the spoon on his shoulder and knocks on the door. When she answers, if she takes the spoon off his shoulder and puts it on hers, shuts the door, he’s got a fiancé.” Okay, so there’s no proof, but it sure is romantic! There have even been love spoons found in Egypt, Africa and North America! But as deeply as you can research, it is still incredibly difficult to ascertain a specific start date or origin. The history of love spoons almost seems to have just started, by themselves, with love.
 

Love Spoon, with fretted heart devices and chip-carving,
National Museum Wales

The spoons would have originally been of simple design with little or no decoration, being a more practical show of usefulness and the ability to provide. They were probably used as a ladle for the stews that were common in the 17th centuries. Then over time, designs were added to the flat part of the ladle, it being long and level and a good place to put them. The more intricate the design represented more skill to provide for a wife and family. Some would have two spoons attached by chains. Some would have multiple spoons. 

Love Spoon, with panel handle and two bowls, National Museum Wales

Two heavy love spoons hanging from two-looped panel, National Museum Wales

Symbolism became prevalent, with specific designs for specif meanings.

According to the National Museum of Wales, this is what certain symbols meant:

Love Spoon, with hearts and 

other geometrical designs, National Museum Wales

Hearts:

The heart is the universal symbol of love and is frequently seen on Welsh love spoons. It is a sign of passion and strong emotion - surely signifying the carver's depth of feeling for his beloved. A love spoon showing twin hearts might well indicate a mutual love between sender and recipient.

Comma or paisley shape:

Often visible on historic Welsh love spoons, this shape is said to represent the soul and deep affection.

Balls in cage:

Balls carved within cages are commonly thought to represent the number of children desired by the carver, but could equally be a sign of a man held captive by his love for the woman.

Chain links:

Generally considered to indicate loyalty and faithfulness, chain links might also symbolize a couple bound together in their love and loyalty.

Chip carved love spoon, carved by TJ Radle

Diamonds:

Diamonds are believed to represent a wish for prosperity and good fortune and a promise to provide well for a loved one.

Keys and keyholes: In addition to the house images that sometimes appear on Welsh love spoons to represent domestic contentment, key and keyhole carvings are also used frequently, perhaps symbolizing security or, more romantically, the key to one's heart.

Wheels:

Wheel symbols often featured in Welsh love spoons are said to represent a vow by the carver to work hard and to guide a loved one through life.

Double bowls:

Occasionally, love spoons are carved with two or more bowls, possibly to indicate the union of the souls when joined together, or perhaps the number of children desired.

David Western in his book suggests the following symbolism:

Images of Home: Suitor’s promise to provide shelter

Vines, trees or foliage: Growth in the relationship

A flower: Gentleness and growth

My Heirloom Spoon, designed, carved and painted by me

 

My Calla Lilly Spoon, carved, painted and given by TJ Radle

Christmas Spoon, carved by TJ Radle

Spoons carved by my teacher, Ralph

In more modern symbols, you have horseshoes, bells, paddock and crossed keys, and more Celtic knot work. There is so much more! Love spoon designs can be as intricate and delicate, or as simple as a figurine. Today, love spoons are given as gifts for Valentines Day, weddings, anniversaries, birthdays, new babies, even as wedding favors. They can be as original or traditional as desired. Visit a local woodcarving show and see what you can find! Maybe even try designing one yourself with the help of a skilled carver.

Courtney and Allen Sale's Wedding Spoon, designed & carved by me

Wedding Spoon for my 1st Anniversary, designed and carved by me

 

Born and raised in the Edmond, OK area, Alanna Radle Rodriguez is the great, great, granddaughter of one of the first pioneers to help settle the area around what is now Seminole, Oklahoma. The fourth generation in a line of women in her family to be born in Indian Territory/Oklahoma, she has lived in her beloved state all her life. With her knowledge of surrounding area history, her heart relishes in volunteering at the Oklahoma Territorial Schoolhouse in Edmond. She lives with her husband and parents in the Edmond area, currently working on a historical romance set in pre-statehood Waterloo, Oklahoma.

https://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=100009278408722
https://www.pinterest.com/alannaradlerodr/

Pam Hillman's Family Heirlooms

What is an heirloom?

Webster’s defines an heirloom as, “Something of special value handed on from one generation to another.”

As I ponder the meaning of heirlooms, I turn to the battered antique trunk at the foot of my bed. Its domed top and shiny brass accents shimmer in the late afternoon sunlight streaming through my bedroom window.

My husband bought the trunk at his great aunt’s estate sale several years ago. It is a beautiful old trunk. Battered, but sturdy, it cradles heirlooms handed down through five generations.

I flip the clasps open and lift the lid, letting the smell of old leather, musty books, and time gone by waft around me. For a moment, my gaze lingers on my treasures, old and new, before I reach for the baby clothes stacked on top.

I pull out dainty smocked suits that my children wore home from the hospital; a pair of tiny, hand crocheted booties; soft white and powdery blue blankets used to wrap my newborn sons in. Memories of those precious days parade through my head as I touch each object. I shake my head as I finger the baby clothes. It is hard to believe either of my young men were ever small enough to wear the tiny garments I hold in my hands.

Underneath a soft baby blanket, I spot a baseball glove, its brittle leather over thirty years old. The glove brings back memories of a brother whose life was cut way to short. Memories of the time he threw a baseball straight up in the air because I had decided I couldn’t miss it if the ball fell on me. I missed—and got a busted nose for my effort. But it really wasn’t my brother’s fault. The whole thing had been my idea.

As I dig deeper, the keepsakes grow older. I pick up a hymnal, dated 1907, a relic inherited from my husband’s great-great aunt. Its care-worn pages are a testimony to the many times Aunt Mary Ann lifted her voice in song. I can just see a dozen or so stout country women dressed in their Sunday best, hats perched just so, sturdy shoes dusty from their trek to church, lifting their voices in song. The song in my head fades away as the hymnal is placed carefully to the side.

In the bottom, I find a quilt. Not just an ordinary quilt—a special quilt—a quilt hand-stitched by my mother’s mother. I’m not sure how old it is. My mother doesn’t know, and Mamaw wouldn’t be able to tell us if she were alive.

I do know that it is old, and worn, the fabric stiff and shiny in places, the binding threadbare, the lining torn. It isn’t beautiful. Its pieces aren’t mirror images of each other, intent on showing off some delicate pattern. It’s a hodgepodge of color, shapes, and sizes. Some pieces of fabric are long and narrow, brown. Others tan, triangular. I spot a few pieces of dull green here and there. But even now, it has a thick sturdiness that guarantees a cozy night’s sleep on a frigid winter night.

As my fingers glide across the surface of the quilt, an image of my mother as a little girl, snuggling under the quilt, flashes like a movie clip before my eyes. As quickly as it appears, it’s gone. I sigh and lean over the edge of the trunk once again.

The afternoon shadows deepen as I examine each and every precious item in the trunk. I marvel at the black velvet pillbox hat with grosgrain ribbon Mamaw wore to church back in the 1940’s. I touch the cool metal of Papaw’s pocket watch, the stiff softness of his brown felt hat. The label inside says Adam, Fifth Avenue Quality, long oval, and I wonder how many hats he tried on, how long he stood in the store, before he picked just the right hat, just the right style, to suit him.

When I’m done, I carefully pack everything away, my trip down memory lane creating more and more memories, expanding, like sweet rolls set out to rise. I gaze out the window, enjoying a quiet afternoon reminiscing.

www.pamhillman.com

These heirlooms speak to me somewhere down deep inside. Their value is special, just like Webster declared. I knew the man who wore the hat, the woman who hand-stitched the quilt, the young girl who grew up to be my mother.

I have the memories to prove it.

And that’s what makes an heirloom special.

Do you have a special heirloom handed down from your parents or grandparents? We'd love to hear all about it!!!

***

Okay, I'm just so excited, I'm about to burst!!!

Claiming Mariah is coming out in PRINT February 2014.

My first ever print book. Be still my heart!

New Romance, Suspense, & Historical Fiction!

www www.pamhillman.com »