Heirloom is the theme for this week.... and I don't have many of those. I never met my Dad's family... except one cousin who was older than our Mom.. who came from Quebec to British Columbia (all across Canada) to live with us when Mom was very sick with pneumonia. She never went back home. Georgette arrived with plenty of clothes, perfumes, powders, shoes, hair rollers (actually, the most hair stuff you have ever seen in your entire life!) , etc... ... but, that's about it. Don't get me wrong...we 3 little girls loved it! But, ...there were no heirlooms.
(of course, I don't have to actually tell you this part..but it's fun to relate and today...I feel like telling a story ... )
When she wasn't home, we tried on her gargantuan Dolly Parton sized bras... clomped around in her lovely pearlized, pastel high heels...and spritzed and puffed ourselves with her wild smelling perfumes and powders. As if she didn't know...hahahha....with telltale dustings of powder having settled on her otherwise immaculate dresser.. (we learned a lot about housekeeping from her!) ... but, she never did say anything. She loved us ... and she loved to play with our hair; try to teach us a bit about some of her feminine ways, (we were such wild tomboys) and in general just be a wonderful friend, confidante and almost a surrogate Mom while ours was unable to even lift her head off the pillow. We have a couple of photos of my sister with a frizzy perm that Georgette gave her...that was months of fun... our cousin always wanted to be a hairdresser. However, she never did take the course, ... made plenty of money as a top notch waitress and that's what she did for many years once our Mom was on the road to recovery.
She lived with us for several years... was such a hard worker at whatever she did and always dressed up beautifully when she went out. She is now in her nineties... still lives in her own apartment... still looks all "done up" ... and is wishing she had gone into politics ... 'the system needs changing' and 'if she were 30 years younger'...man, I bet she'd be the person to do just that! Georgette for Prime Minister. She'd sure as heck get my vote!
On to the other side of the family and the other side of the world.....
Mom's family lived in England, so we never met most of them either. As a matter of fact , she never saw her parents again once she left home shortly after the war. Couldn't afford to go ...and even if she could... my Dad would never have allowed it...in case she got smart and didn't come back... hahaha...... well, I laugh now..but, at the time it didn't seem very funny. Good thing we can put the "fun"ny back in dysfunctional years after the fact, isn't it?
In the 60's, I managed to save enough to get Mom and me on a plane for England... and off we flew. We almost didn't go because her Mom had died only 2 months previously...and her Dad had been gone for several years. But... she still had a sister ...so we decided we would still make the trip. We had a month of beautiful weather... did a lot of sightseeing; the sisters got to re-aquiant, and I met a few cousins... along with several people Mom had known in her other life ... the life before meeting my Dad as the dashing Canadian soldier... who later turned out to be not so dashing... or maybe he was the same guy all along, but she just didn't see that.... as is often the case.... love is blind and all that stuff and nonsense ...
My aunt was not in the best of situations either ... uh, oh.... this is getting too long to go into another segue about another unhappy marriage... suffice to say... she came to visit Canada later as part of a tour group which her scheming husband brought here... only to go home and realize he had duped the group and monies were owing...which she had to help pay..etc, blah, blah.. and on to a few years later when she decided to immigrate ... by herself ... bringing only the youngest of her kids with her. The others were already on their own. You can't believe the shenanigans a Brit had to go through to immigrate to Canada! It would have been easier if she had been a refugee with absolutely not a farthing to her name and who would immediately be a burden upon the system. Anyway... after many months, running to years...she got here. Loaded down with anything and everything she could carry, box, ship, etc.. which of course, was not much in the scheme of moving your whole life.
She carried in her hands these vases and this tea pot.... for the sole purpose of giving them to me. Eldest female descendant of the family. She has all boys....
I love my teapot... silver .. and it tarnishes, but I love the blues and purplies ... yes, I meant to say purplies.... so don't polish it much...
I never use it for tea... just for flowers or to look at behind glass where it usually sits... or to hold in my hands and marvel at the fact that somebody, somewhere, made this pot by hand all those years ago. It has one small "ding" in it... been there for years...but, in my eyes it is perfect.
And.... my two little ancient vases... which she also carried all the way in her big bag slung over a shoulder... the woman was tough as nails... I wish I had more of the toughness genes in her and in my cousin.
All the way from England it came... after having lived there for so many years... it is about 200 years old; imagine that..... .. and for all those years it survived intact. One day I found a blind dog wandering around outside and brought it into the house while I tried to track down owners. One wag of its fluffy tail and my dainty little antique vase bounced right off a low table onto the floor...note the one missing "toe". I do feel I let the side down a bit by not being careful enough in its safekeeping. I'm very careful with my "stuff" and my "things", but do love to use them... .. missing toes and all.... yes, sometimes they are in the curio...but, they also bring me joy when in use as intended. Some have said they think this may have been a dainty champagne flute... I have yet to use it as that.. ..... hmmm...
