My brother took our dad's funky old typewriter, the one he typed thousands of business letters on, (always in green capital letters, with impossible abbreviations.) I was a little sad that it didn't come to me, but never said a word. Years later my brother packed that trusty machine up and shipped it me.
I took a large pewter rooster that hung on the wall in our family room. It looked fine in my farm house. One day my visiting sister gave it a fond glance and said, "I wish I'd taken that." I wrapped it up and gave it to her for her birthday that year. So it goes, we happily enjoy the things we treasured from our parents, then share them if the opportunity arises.
This wonderful shelf was one of our mom's favorite things. She changed out the items inside it often, and it was a fine showcase for little treasures. It stayed in the family house when my sister Debra bought the place. Until now. She brought it to me last month and my brother in law carefully hung it for me. I love to see it now, hanging in my living room.
I think our parents would be pleased to know that not only did their brood refrain from squabbling over the things they left behind, but that we continue to actively enjoy those items and share them amongst ourselves. Maybe they wouldn't be surprised, though. I'm sure it has a lot to do with how they raised us.
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