She Grew Up In Them, and loved them.
My mother was never a collector, she was the 'Keeper of The Stuff,' as I am now. My father was the shopper, my mother ended up with all the memorabilia from her family that had been passed on, and she dragged with her. She kept gifts, but there is very little my mother actually bought for herself to indicate her personality.
A Birthday Gift From Her Nursing Friends.
And things that belonged to her parents.
She kept books, but very few,
and the family bibles.
But every once in a while I come across something that is nothing but, purely my mother. During the course of my unpacking, and my quest to leave no box unopened, I came across this.
I'm not sure how long I have been dragging this box around, more than likely since 1995, because I never examined these, though I am familiar with the stories that accompany them.
Ski Pass used as a bookmark for this page.
My mother always had a thing for being 'out-country.' She loved Europe. Most notably Germany and Switzerland. - If you were unfortunate enough to be in a European Airport in the fifties, and was unintentionally assaulted by a tiny little woman attempting a 360 degree turn with a set of skis held horizontally at her waist, I apologize for her now... She said you were Russian, she thinks you swore at her, but she didn't have time to put the skis and poles down to rummage through her bag for her Russian translation book to tell you how sorry she was. Oh, and that she was a nurse and you appeared to have a blood pressure problem you turned so red so fast, and you really should have that checked. Its just that you limped off in such a hurry after your tirade... - One of the books in herShe loved Germany and Switzerland.
pile collection is Learning German.
Between the war ending and having kids ( a whole lot afterward too ), my mother traveled. One couldn't really call them vacations, she was never home. She worked so that she could afford to do what she wanted while my father was off serving his country.
Oh, and if you should happen to be the nice German Gentleman, with the gorgeous Nordic sweater, who rode allllllll the way up the mountain in the gondola with this person...
who was trying to have a conversation with you, gleaned from her little German phrase book she had her nose in, your heavy sigh when you finally reached the top of the mountain was not lost on that woman. She and her family had many hours of uncontrolled hysterics later in her life, when she would do a re-enactment of your slowly sinking posture, your continually gazing up the mountain, to see if you could see the top yet. And your remark at the top, when she offered to keep you company and ski the trip down with you, "I don't think I would be able to keep up with you." Priceless. And Thank You as well for the impression your sweater made, we all received Norwegian sweaters that year for Christmas.