Day 214 of 365 - Memorabilia Melancholia
It seemed an interesting prospect at the start; a box of family memorabilia from my husband's family, to sort into some kind of order. In large part, it was photographs, but also some newspaper clippings and various printouts related to ancestry. Almost all the photos were black and white, starting with the daguerreotypes from the 1800's up to the developed film style of more modern times. These had been saved through four or five generations.
What at first was kind of exciting, soon became rather tedious. But, I was determined to get through at least one round, and stuck with it, in keeping with my tendency to obsess with projects. I went through a second round today, and am more satisfied with the categories I made. We will be passing the box on to our eldest son, who is now the keeper of the family tree. He will actually be excited to go through everything!
In this case, the majority of the items hold little meaning for me, except for what relates to my husband's generation and photos of his parents. But, I can remember similar feelings when going through a drawer of photos and memorabilia in my parents' home years ago. At first, there is a sense of wonder about what new information might be discovered. Then, there are the memories that resurface about events and people not seen for years, many who are long deceased.
The rabbit hole of memories puts the brakes on the process, and a sense of tension arises within, one aspect of mind wanting to reminisce and another just wanting to get the job done. This by the way, is also exactly what happens when trying to sort and reduce possessions prior to a move. The task can grind to a slow crawl if one is not mindful of trying to keep an objective frame of mind.
I wonder if the melancholy starts to settle in due to that mental and emotional tension described above. For my own family belongings and personal items, it can stall with indecision about what stays and what goes. It becomes difficult to push through to any sort of completion without discipline. Sometimes, a cheerleader or neutral assistant can be of great help.
For this box though, which I mentioned actually has little to do with me, it was a bit different. Looking through so many generations of family photos, it felt like time was frozen, which in a way is of course what photographs are about. There was just a heaviness about it, not so much a sense of pleasure about what those lives had held. It was done. It was passed. Mind you, there were a lot of war time items, which likely contributed to the weightiness.
I admire those who have the tenacity to wade through reams of historical data to create an accurate record of family ancestry. My son is one of those. More power to him! I do not see myself as someone who could have the same level of enthusiasm about it. Getting bogged down in detail becomes an exercise in frustration for me. However, I did derive a sense of satisfaction from creating some order in the contents we'll present to him when we see him next.
As I've learned only too well from the last several years of purging possessions, slow and steady is the way to go. I've exhausted myself too many times in the past trying to accomplish too much, too quickly. Giving oneself the time and space to break things up into manageable chunks, is the much saner approach. Doing so may actually result in more a sense of accomplishment than one of melancholy.
What at first was kind of exciting, soon became rather tedious. But, I was determined to get through at least one round, and stuck with it, in keeping with my tendency to obsess with projects. I went through a second round today, and am more satisfied with the categories I made. We will be passing the box on to our eldest son, who is now the keeper of the family tree. He will actually be excited to go through everything!
In this case, the majority of the items hold little meaning for me, except for what relates to my husband's generation and photos of his parents. But, I can remember similar feelings when going through a drawer of photos and memorabilia in my parents' home years ago. At first, there is a sense of wonder about what new information might be discovered. Then, there are the memories that resurface about events and people not seen for years, many who are long deceased.
The rabbit hole of memories puts the brakes on the process, and a sense of tension arises within, one aspect of mind wanting to reminisce and another just wanting to get the job done. This by the way, is also exactly what happens when trying to sort and reduce possessions prior to a move. The task can grind to a slow crawl if one is not mindful of trying to keep an objective frame of mind.
I wonder if the melancholy starts to settle in due to that mental and emotional tension described above. For my own family belongings and personal items, it can stall with indecision about what stays and what goes. It becomes difficult to push through to any sort of completion without discipline. Sometimes, a cheerleader or neutral assistant can be of great help.
For this box though, which I mentioned actually has little to do with me, it was a bit different. Looking through so many generations of family photos, it felt like time was frozen, which in a way is of course what photographs are about. There was just a heaviness about it, not so much a sense of pleasure about what those lives had held. It was done. It was passed. Mind you, there were a lot of war time items, which likely contributed to the weightiness.
I admire those who have the tenacity to wade through reams of historical data to create an accurate record of family ancestry. My son is one of those. More power to him! I do not see myself as someone who could have the same level of enthusiasm about it. Getting bogged down in detail becomes an exercise in frustration for me. However, I did derive a sense of satisfaction from creating some order in the contents we'll present to him when we see him next.
As I've learned only too well from the last several years of purging possessions, slow and steady is the way to go. I've exhausted myself too many times in the past trying to accomplish too much, too quickly. Giving oneself the time and space to break things up into manageable chunks, is the much saner approach. Doing so may actually result in more a sense of accomplishment than one of melancholy.
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