Among my klediments

I'm sorry about the way this entry is laid out, with so much empty space between the pictures; I'm too lazy to do it all over, so this is what you get.  I tried to fix it and only made it worse!


I don't know if everyone is like this, but I have mementoes around my house that have been around so long and are so much a part of me that I don't even see them any more, until I happen to dust them (a rare occurrence) or move them from one place to another for some reason.  I used to have a book written by June Carter Cash called "Among My Klediments".  I've never seen that word used anywhere else, and it isn't in the dictionary.  There's an explanation of it HERE.   The word refers to what I call keepsakes.  
This morning I took a walk around my house and took pictures of a few of my treasures.

This angel playing a stringed instrument was among the flowers at my mom's funeral.  There was a note attached that said "for Donna".  It was from my mom's cousin's son, Terry (I think that makes him my third cousin), who is a couple years younger than I am.  He was the first person to start digging into the Stevens family history many years ago, before my cousin Pauline took the reins.  
I think he wanted me to have this because I like to play guitar and sing.  I hope such an angel is on his shoulder right now, because I've been told he has stomach cancer and the prognosis is not good.    

I bought this on Ebay a few years ago because that's the brand of pop I drank as a child in Iowa.  The Tyler bottling plant wasn't far away.  My favorite was Tyler grape, which I can still taste if I think really hard about it.  I remember when I was so young that I put the whole top of the bottle in my mouth, and Mother told me I was going to swallow the bottle if I didn't watch out.  I recall working really hard at drinking from a pop bottle the right way.  

This is a memento of my son's time stationed in Germany; I'm not sure whether it was the first time or the second.  My first grandchild left with his mom for Germany when he was six months old, and I didn't see him again until he was two.  That was torment!  My granddaughter, Amber, was born in Germany.

  Inside the stein reside several pocket knives.  Some were given to Cliff, others were purchased by him but didn't suit him.  




































It's quite a collection, isn't it?  That little carved  thing does some sort of trick, but I forget what it is.  When Cliff's awake, I'll find out and let you know.  It was carved by my cousin's husband, Fat.  Yes, everybody called him Fat; it's the name he answered to.  And he really wasn't all that fat.  He passed away a few years ago.  

This is a spoon-holder that resides next to my kitchen range; I use it daily.  I've had it a long time, and it amazes me that it's made it intact for so long. My mother-in-law once went to Nashville with her two daughters and visited the Grand Ole Opry.  While they were in Nashville, they ate a meal at Loretta Lynn's kitchen.  I believe Melva thought Loretta really had something to do with running the restaurant, but I'm pretty sure she only sold the proprietors her name.  Anyway, I think of my late mother-in-law often when I use this.  
Melva had a special knack for enjoying life, a childlike quality you seldom see in anyone past the age of twenty.
















When I was pregnant with my son, I baby-sat a little girl named Robin.  Her parents gave me this planter when my baby was born; it had some sort of ivy growing in it, but as with all house plants that come my way, it didn't make it long.  I wouldn't be so attached to this thing except that it's been around since 1967, and I just can't think about getting rid of it now.  

This is a relative newcomer to my clutter.  We have some longtime friends, Tim and Barbara, who decided to go into the winery business; before doing this, they went on a trip to Italy and toured the vineyards there, I think in 1997.  They brought this souvenir back for us.
It makes me a little sad to look at it now:  The couple divorced, and the vineyard and winery has changed hands.  I hate change.  

So, there you have a few of my treasures and the stories behind them.  I'd love to see my fellow bloggers tell me about some of their keepsakes.