Perhaps I've said this before, but I have three wedding dresses--mine, my grandmother's, and my great-grandmother's. Even assuming I don't inherit my mother's (and it's unlikely that I will), I'm going to bequeath Little Miss a trunkful of white satin someday.
I'm convinced that there's a book to be written about those dresses--in the far off future when I have time to write it--but in the meantime they only make me want to work hard to pare down the other bits of our foremothers' legacy that my children will have to eventually sort through.
It's a tough balance. On the one hand, it's history--my history, their history. On the other, though, if we kept every scrap we'd have no room for memories of our own.
To that end, I edited my grandma's recipe box the other day. Sweet Husband got me a pretty, new recipe box of my own for Valentine's Day this year, so it seemed like it was time.
And there was so much in my grandma's box that I was keeping just for the sake of keeping it, not because it had meaning or use for me. Typical of her time, she used a ton of processed food, and almost all of her "salads" involved Jello. We just don't quite cook in the same style, and there were only about a dozen or so recipes that I ever stood a chance of making.
What I really wanted to keep was my Grandma's perfect handwriting on the cards...the memory of her notorious sweet tooth....her broccoli rice casserole (because I loved it as a kid, cheese whiz and all!). But that comes through just as well in twelve cards as it would in a hundred.
So, I pulled out the recipes I remember, and offered the rest up to my cousins to pick through for their own memories. Then--along with a few to-die-for cheesecake recipes my Sister-In-Law gifted me when Sweet Husband and I first were married--I organized my own new, little recipe box.