When my grandmother died a half-century ago, my grandfather asked my mother and her four sisters to take anything they wanted from their household possessions. The five sisters therefore proceeded to catalog the items on a sheet with three columns each sister could check: 1) not interested, 2) I’d like this if no one else wants it, or 3) I really, really want this.
When the list was compiled, my mother and all my aunts discovered that it was very easy to make the final decisions. Jean really, really wanted the painting that had hung in the living room, but only Dora indicated any interest at all, and none of the others wanted it. Peg and Ruth would each take the little sewing basket (rather than have it thrown away), but since Allie really, really wanted it, it was just fine that Allie take the sewing basket. So all down the list they went, easily and happily agreeing on the right home for each family treasure.
And then they came to the bud vase—a beautiful silver vase just asking to display one lovely rose. All five sisters had checked that they really, really wanted that bud vase. It had been in the family such a long time. No one was willing to relinquish an interest in it, so they formed a Grand Plan. They would each take turns keeping it for a while—maybe five or six months—and then hand carry it to another sister’s home in the course of visiting. That bud vase graced tables and shelves in Pennsylvania, New York, Illinois, Colorado, and California for the next forty years . . . until there was only one sister living.
Enter the next generation—my generation—the seven daughters of these five sisters. Our generation knew how important the bud vase was to our mothers and aunts, so when the last aunt was gone and it was time to clear out her household, we decided to continue the tradition. Now the bud vase has a new life, residing with one or another of us in Florida, New Mexico, Colorado, New Jersey, Washington, Pennsylvania, or Maine. It’s a symbol of the deep bond the five sisters had and now we cousins have.
And what will become of the silver vase when the last of our generation is gone? From five sisters to seven daughters to sixteen grandchildren? It’s not the bud vase itself that is important. It’s the love of family, the interest in and caring about each other’s lives that matters. That quality is already showing up full strength in those adult grandchildren and in how they are bringing up the youngest generation to enjoy family. The spirit of the bud vase lives on.
About today’s contributor: Marty Walton has been part of the Association of Personal Historians since the organization’s beginnings in 1995. She joined the board as treasurer in 2003 and served as Operations Manager from 2005 to 2011 and returned to the board as treasurer for 2012. Now partially retired, she and partner Linda Lyman still work with long-term clients through their business, The Storehouse Collection of Memories.
What a sweet story, Marty. I hope the bud vase continues gracing the homes of your children’s children long into the future.
What a beautiful story!! Sadly, the cousin generations often become estranged or they just don’t have any relationship at all, so the delivering of the bud vase from one home to another is a delightful way of keeping the relationship from falling by the wayside. I love it!
The hand-carrying part of the arrangement is so clever, Yoda. A great way to guarantee people get together.
Love this story, Marty. What struck me is how the sisters worked out how to divvy things up in the first place. A lot of nasty rifts were created in my mother’s family over “stuff”. I suspect the Silver Bud Vase will serve its purpose for generations to come, gathering stories on its way.
This is a story of love, hope and tradition. It makes me wish I had sisters to share such a family treasure. Thanks for sharing such a lovely story.
Beautiful Vingette Marty!
I wish my sister and I had been able to agree so amicably about Mum’s possessions when she died. I have told the story of her green corrugated glass butter dish which is a constant memory trigger for me and your elegant silver bud vase must rekindle some precious memories for you. Somehow silver is such a tactile metal, soft and gleaming, and always responds to those who lovingly clean it and polish until they can see their reflection. Is that you, or perhaps it’s Allie? Or maybe your sister?
This story reminds me of my friend, Linda who, along with her two sisters, worked out a similar arrangement with their father’s ring. They also took a piece of their mother’s jewelry and had it made into three bracelets so they could all have a permanent family momento. The intangible bond that precipitated the arrangement and that continues through their children and grandchildren is unique and beautiful.
Although the story of the bud vase is not yet fully written, I can state with certainty that when the time comes, the next generation will indeed continue to write it.
Marty,
This is such a beautiful piece. In researching my great grandfather’s art history as a sculptor, I recently discovered a small statue for sale that he designed and cast in 1905. My siblings and I created our own Grand Plan to purchase it. We have a similar plan for the house guest whose name is simply known as The Waterboy.
Marty, what a little gem of a story. It reminds me that it’s probably time for me to take back to my sister the files we share from my mother, who was a children’s book author. We have her original scripts and illustrations and cherish them. (Remember the Little Golden Books? We all grew up with them; she wrote some.)But it will be hard for me to part with them …the leavetaking is never easy!
Francie
Marty:
I loved your story of the Silver Bud Vase. Very touching. It’s also a reminder the
“clock is ticking” for everyone. I liked the 3-column “distribution list” for everyone to state their preferences.
From Lynne Choy in So. California
This is such a beautiful story. What a great family you have, and such a wonderful tradition. I, too, hope it will continue. Having written about it may help the tradition live on!