Welcome back to Pen to Paper!
I’ve written about the stories we each have. If you missed them, check my March 1 and February 1, 2024 editions of Pen to Paper. (I sense a pattern emerging.)
If you are a regular reader, you know I usually have a story to tell.
“A story’s most important function is to remind us we are not alone in the world.” Christine Hennebury
In this newsletter:
Stories draw us in.
Everything has a story.
Every ending makes room for a beginning.
Finding Stories You Love
There’s a reason why reading specialists tell parents to let their children read anything that interests them. Until children try different genres they don’t know what they like. People are more likely to attend to stories that appeal to them.
We can be drawn in by more than just the genre. It can be the characters, the setting, the storyline, or the author’s command of the written word. The same is true for movies and oral storytelling.
Even if you don’t consider yourself a consumer of stories in the traditional sense, you are. Maybe you binge Netflix, paint, or listen to music. They all tell stories.
Every time we reach the end of a story, we have an opportunity to look for or create a new one.
Perhaps our favorite stories are the ones we play a part in.
These stories never truly leave us.
The Stories of My Stuff
I am sentimental about my stuff. You know the stuff I’m talking about. The stuff you keep and can’t seem to part with.
I’m drawn to the stories of the stuff I have. After 60+ years of life, 40+ years of marriage, and collecting stuff from my parents and grandparents, you can imagine how much I have.
I bought my copy of My Father’s Dragon by Ruth Stiles Gannett at a scholastic book fair in elementary school. I read it to my sons and frequently recommend it as a read-aloud.
The silver and abalone pin I wear on my blue blazer was my mother’s. When I get compliments on it, I often tell the story of my mother’s love of thrifting.
My dining room set came from my grandmother’s. It was bought as an antique in 1911. My grandmother inherited it from her aunt and uncle. Think of the stories it could tell!
Like so many items in my house, these items tell me a story. Each has a story I can tell, with beginnings, endings, characters, settings, and storylines. I have become a part of those stories. And, of course, I can tell their stories to others.
The stories of these items make it hard for me to part with them.
Letting Go
I’m practical enough to know I can’t keep everything, even if I love their story.
Which brings me to my chairs.
They came from my grandmother's attic. The upholstery was worn and torn. One leg was broken off. They were family pieces she inherited but never used. I took them because they were family pieces. Have I mentioned I’m sentimental?
Reupholstered and repaired, they were gorgeous accent pieces. They were not functional because they were uncomfortable. Horsehair stuffing is not fluffy, and they were made for petite ladies drinking tea in their parlor in the 1880s. I knew their story, and I loved them.
As we moved around the country, I felt like I was becoming a part of their story. When we moved to the house we are in now I realized the time had come to let them go. It was a decision that made me sad. I made myself look at the logical and practical side.
Then I discovered some antique furniture is difficult to give away, like uncomfortable parlor chairs that look like they should be in a museum. I worked for a year to rehome them. It was beginning to look like an impossible task.
One day, a lady came to look at them. She was looking for a comfy chair for her bedroom. I encouraged her to look at them carefully and sit on them (used car salesperson, I am not). We had a common love of antiques and New Orleans, which is where the chairs were before my grandmother’s attic.
Sitting in the beautiful, uncomfortable, antique parlor chair, she said, “I really want these. Please know they are going to a home where they will be loved.”
That was the only epilogue I needed for my chairs’ story.
I knew I could let the chairs go. They had finished their story with me and were off to start a story with someone else.
7 Days, 7 Thoughts on Gratitude and Good:
I am grateful for a home full of stories.
I wrote this longer story about my efforts to let go of treasured items a few years ago when we moved to where we live now. 🏠
Stories are important to us as humans. This article tells why.
Another reason stories are important is their power. This blog post is a good introduction to the power of stories. ⚡
Geraldine Brook’s People of the Book is a great novel about the story behind a book. It’s great all around, but this is for you if you like your fiction mixed with some history and inspired by a true story. 📖
It’s good to let go of your treasures by giving them away. When I decide to donate something to charity, I remind myself that it can bring happiness to someone else.
As I was going to schedule this newsletter, I heard this episode of Gretchen Rubin’s A Little Happier podcast. It’s on point to my newsletter topic and worth the 3-minute listen. 🎧
Thank you for reading. I hope this edition of Pen to Paper brought you a new appreciation of stories.
Until next time,
💚
Susan
Do you have trouble letting go like I do? If you have suggestions for how to deal with it, leave a comment and let me know.
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I have a 2nd newsletter about journaling. If you are interested or know someone who would be interested, check it out at From The Pen’s Nib: A Commonplace Book About Journaling.
I'd like to say those chairs are hideous just to make you feel more justified in letting go. But those are some pretty cool chairs, and I'm not even into antiques lol. A very unique design.
I love it Susan. My daughter used to tell me that I needed to upgrade my furniture to modern but I look around and every piece tells a story and I treasure them.