Our Inheritance
Any of us who have lived long enough know, directly, about wills and inheritances and such things. Certainly, at a surface level, these things distribute wealth or, sometimes, debt. Usually this includes some furniture, a knick-knack, and -- in fairness -- birthday and Christmas presents gifted to the Loved One throughout the years. It is all very necessary because these knickknacks will far outlast us. Indeed, as I type this blog entry I wonder what future generation might be lit by the twice-inherited pineapple-esque lamp next to me.
There is no mistaking the need to guide the distribution of artifacts and past a certain age we all do it, whether in writing or not. For years I have known that the piano was "mine", a testament to the fact that I stuck with piano lessons a few years longer than my siblings or,p erhaps, it was because I have friends who know how to tickle those particular ivories. A favorite ring, a hope chest, clocks... all verbally willed in bits and pieces over the years. I was told once the story of an aunt, an elderly aunt because this desire does not seem to kick in until later in life, who would physically gift those things from her home that she wanted her visitors to inherit. I imagine when it is time for me to scratch that particular itch I will whip out my trusty label maker and sneak people's names onto my personal "big ticket" items. There is no right or wrong to it -- we must all find a way to distribute our artifacts.
And, of course, this is the surface of it -- our lives extend beyond a reversed garage sale. Since we accumulate more than artifacts, if we are particularly observant, we understand that these must also be distributed. A hostess and matriarch, my mother had much to pass on in this area.
One particular, ethereal inheritance for me was Thanksgiving. My family has two major holiday celebrations: Christmas and Thanksgiving. New Years Day, for a while, was a contender, but it peaked and faded years ago. The bestowal of Thanksgiving was in no document, no will, no "I bequeath to Ed and Linda the Thanksgiving Day" scribbled down anywhere. Instead it was one of those verbal bequests, when my mother -- too ill to cook the Thanksgiving meal and too saddened to see it made in her kitchen without her -- decided that we would, instead, have the meal at my house. Keeping our 2 month old baby out of the weather and having two kitchens in the house sweetened the deal considerably. During that sweet and sour meal a simple comment mentioning "a good transition" and "passing a torch" were made.
And so, this past Thanksgiving was overseen by a photo of that previous Thanksgiving meal, and a cardboard smiley face as old as I, whose black and yellow visage has smiled down upon many transitions and is, itself, an inheritance of sorts.
More than artifacts, these inheritances are the spirits and the lives we had so cherished and their gifting, as always, gives us meaning. I think, too often, people forget to bequeath these ethereals or others, perhaps, refuse to receive them. The fear stemming from such an omission being that individuals will drift apart and sacrifice group and familial identity in the name of day-to-day convenience.
So, we have for the time being happily inherited Thanksgiving and it has certainly staved off day-to-day convenience, but it has also kept us, for another year, together in familial community. There is nothing more satisfying, to me, than to sit at a table surrounded by as many family members as possible... making the feast a sign of abundance that goes well beyond the food.
There is no mistaking the need to guide the distribution of artifacts and past a certain age we all do it, whether in writing or not. For years I have known that the piano was "mine", a testament to the fact that I stuck with piano lessons a few years longer than my siblings or,p erhaps, it was because I have friends who know how to tickle those particular ivories. A favorite ring, a hope chest, clocks... all verbally willed in bits and pieces over the years. I was told once the story of an aunt, an elderly aunt because this desire does not seem to kick in until later in life, who would physically gift those things from her home that she wanted her visitors to inherit. I imagine when it is time for me to scratch that particular itch I will whip out my trusty label maker and sneak people's names onto my personal "big ticket" items. There is no right or wrong to it -- we must all find a way to distribute our artifacts.
And, of course, this is the surface of it -- our lives extend beyond a reversed garage sale. Since we accumulate more than artifacts, if we are particularly observant, we understand that these must also be distributed. A hostess and matriarch, my mother had much to pass on in this area.
One particular, ethereal inheritance for me was Thanksgiving. My family has two major holiday celebrations: Christmas and Thanksgiving. New Years Day, for a while, was a contender, but it peaked and faded years ago. The bestowal of Thanksgiving was in no document, no will, no "I bequeath to Ed and Linda the Thanksgiving Day" scribbled down anywhere. Instead it was one of those verbal bequests, when my mother -- too ill to cook the Thanksgiving meal and too saddened to see it made in her kitchen without her -- decided that we would, instead, have the meal at my house. Keeping our 2 month old baby out of the weather and having two kitchens in the house sweetened the deal considerably. During that sweet and sour meal a simple comment mentioning "a good transition" and "passing a torch" were made.
And so, this past Thanksgiving was overseen by a photo of that previous Thanksgiving meal, and a cardboard smiley face as old as I, whose black and yellow visage has smiled down upon many transitions and is, itself, an inheritance of sorts.
More than artifacts, these inheritances are the spirits and the lives we had so cherished and their gifting, as always, gives us meaning. I think, too often, people forget to bequeath these ethereals or others, perhaps, refuse to receive them. The fear stemming from such an omission being that individuals will drift apart and sacrifice group and familial identity in the name of day-to-day convenience.
So, we have for the time being happily inherited Thanksgiving and it has certainly staved off day-to-day convenience, but it has also kept us, for another year, together in familial community. There is nothing more satisfying, to me, than to sit at a table surrounded by as many family members as possible... making the feast a sign of abundance that goes well beyond the food.
posted by Ed at 1:43 PM
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