I’m still using my grandma’s ashtray. She didn’t smoke chronic but I remember sitting with her at the table dropping winstons into that MF all day long. After she died (of cancer obviously, she smoked a pack a day since she was 12 years old and made it to 79) I took it. Now it lives in my library, and even though I don’t smoke cigs I use it every day for my joints.

Grandmother’s napkin holder. I remember it from decades of family dinners.

Grandfather’s humongous old dictionary.

The set of cast iron pans from my grandma that are over 100 years old

My mother’s wedding ring. My father was a monster, so it’s not because of the marriage it represents. It was the cheapest he could get, it’s thin and worn down and battered, and, of all the kids, she gave it to me. When I die, however I am disposed of, that ring goes with me, because… she gave it to me!

I have the only family heirloom I want. It’s a cutting from my grandmother’s monstera.

My grandmother is a miserable person who I have not spoken to in decades (racist, untra-religious). However some of my earliest childhood memories were of playing with my army men in her monstera’s leaves. It was small and abused looking back then. She kept it in a dark corner without enough light. When I was around 13 year old, I cut off 2 nodes and 1 leaf and started my own plant from it.

I have almost lost it a few times over the years. Scab, frost, kids, bacterial infections, a couple years overseas relying on someone else to care for it etc. Every time it’s come back, started again and kept going.

From my great grandmothers kitchen:

Whoa, now; I suggest you take a peek at the quilt market. Old quilts in good condition can demand astonishingly high prices.

Photos & letters all fall into this category, I think. I suspect that some future historian might find some value in them, but if we don’t extictify ourselves, there’s so much digital material - photos, videos, emails - that anyone studying any period after 2000 is going to be doing a much different job, involving much less sleuthing, than those who studied ancient periods.

The Don Quijote painting my Babushka made. I love it. I’m glad I got it when she passed. As far as I know there are two in the family. This one and one in blue.

My great grandfather’s black leather Stetson flat cap. Wearing it now, in fact.

Great grandfathers service medals from the continuation war.

As I understood it from grandma he was doing damage control when the Soviet fire bombed towns.

I have a letter opener made by my great uncle for my grandfather.

What makes it interesting is that my great uncle worked as a mechanic for the RAF, keeping Spitfires flying during the Battle of Britain and the letter opener is made from discarded parts from Spitfires he worked on. Not sure what the blade was, some small strut or something, I suppose, and the handle is made of different-sized washers.

A rubber stamp of my grandfather’s initials, which happens to be exactly my initials.

Nobody else in the family have this initials, so this really would worth anything only to me.

My grandfather’s dog tags from Vietnam. He always kept them swinging from his rear-view mirror. Swore they kept him safe.

Also swore up and down that he wasn’t superstitious, lol.