When I was a kid, I had the proverbial “rich aunt”. We never knew her by her real name, because she had been called “Dudie” since childhood. She was one of those naturally stunning beauties - tall and dark haired. But the thing that got her the nickname was her impeccably good taste. She always wore just the right thing, and her make-up was perfect. She was as a young lady, somewhat of a “dude”, therefore the name.

She had married an Officer in the Army just before World War II, and had gone overseas to live with him in Germany after the fighting ceased. When they returned to Texas in the early 50’s, he was terminally ill, and soon was buried in the military cemetery in San Antonio. I was so young, I hardly remember him, but Aunt Dudie continued to live close to us, and since she had never had children of her own, we three nephews enjoyed “favored” status. She was never as rich as we kids thought, but she could always be counted on for the really special presents at Christmas, the Tonka trucks, and the first bicycles.

When Aunt Dudie died, nearly 30 years ago now, she left everything she owned to my two brothers and I. The modest income from her house helped pay the family bills for years, and seemed to come just when we needed it most. Plus, there were things of more personal nature left to each of us. And that is where my problem arises.

To my wife and I, she left a set of Rosenthal china. A large set. A huge set, in fact, with several serving pieces and even a coffee pot and footed cups. All in a design of “moss rose”, which she bought in Germany in the late 40’s. Now, I’ve done a little research on the china, and I guess the whole set is worth somewhere north of $5000 (the tureen alone is listed at $900). Each piece is perfect, with neither chips nor wear to the gold edges. We have kept them for the almost-thirty years, never used them, never let the kids handle them, never really enjoyed them as they were meant to be.

So, my predicament. We now have moved into the new house on the bayou, and although it’s larger than the little cabin, it’s still geared to an older couple looking forward to retirement. We don’t entertain much, and when we do, it’s barbecue or boiled shrimp or burgers in the yard. A real blow-out rates some good heavy paper plates and plastic cups. In short, we never expect to use Aunt Dudie’s china.

So, do we continue to store it, pampered and protected out-of-sight? Our sons are not yet married, and when they do, they will probably maintain a life-style similar to how they were raised. Do we pass on the china to one (which one?), to become a pampered treasure, too valuable to use? Or, do we sell it now, and use the money for something we would enjoy, or for retirement savings? Maybe even help the boys with car payments or first houses, remembering that when the china’s gone, it’s gone forever?

When I look at the delicate pattern of the roses, or feel the almost transparent weight of the tiny cups, I see Aunt Dudie in my mind. Not the ageing widow she was for most of my life, but the glamorous “bombshell” she was in old photographs. I know she loved her fine things, but I don’t remember them ever being a “part” of her. I think she would say, “sell ‘em, kiddo, but buy something nice with the money”.

What do you say?

-- Lon (lgal@exp.net), July 27, 2004

Answers

Lon, it's a problem, getting old. When we were young, we spent the old silver dollars we now wish we had back. But, then, the whole nation spent silver money until they began to notice that they hadn't seen any for awhile, so we shouldn't be so hard on ourselves. I have trouble getting over the "loss" of that stag-handled Case Bulldog in a three-way trade back in the seventies, that big flint lance point that disappeared somewhere during my college years, et cetera.

My own current dilemma also includes Mother's china (do you capitalize it when it's a plate and not a nation?). Also her fancy Frency-looking dining table (I paid a pretty penny to keep it from the clutches of one of Daddy's subsequent ex wives). The elegant plates with the broad gold borders and matching stuff are virtually unuseable to we who have sold ourselves so wholeheartedly to the microwave, and the silver utensils with the shiny gold-plated handles are just too gaudy for my taste or compatibility with our formica- topped habits. The big table won't fit in my dining space. I'll probably keep the glass butter churn or the crockery urn Daddy's grandmother used for making kraut, maybe mother's little Omega watch, certainly the hardwood rolling pin made by his great-uncle, the one- armed woodworker. As family moves out of this life, we may become surrounded by, even cluttered with mementos, things in a box 'way back in the closet or that you have to watch the grandkids like a hawk to keep intact. My family is small, but my kids do not share most of my interests. If circumstance allows, I'll probably dump the remainder of my "treasures" on them some day anyway. When it comes to our earthly goods I can't help but think of God's question to the greedy builder of bigger barns to store his goods: "...Tonight thy soul shall be required of thee. Then whose shall these things be?" As much as we'd like to think they do good, as did your aunt's inheritance in your family, there are no guarantees that the tangibles we leave behind won't mostly wind up in the hands of probate lawyers or boors.

Gordon Lightfoot sang a song, a kind of a downer about a ghetto family, but I don't remember the title. Some of the lyrics are "the sun hits the handle of her heirloom cup." For some reason, it just came to mind.

I have a couple of methods of dealing with such things. One is to take a pictures and put notes on the back. If you can't rightly keep a couple of cups and saucers to sip tea from without spoiling the worth of the set, pictures are good for evoking memories too. I want to keep Mother's china just because it was hers. But it's a losing proposition. I try to do what she would find pleasing even now, but that really comes from having known her values rather than anything to do with the posessions. I know what she'd do--she had no respect for "stuff" and saw it only as needful or elegant, a tangible sign of God's blessing in either case. She enjoyed luxuries, but was not the kind of person who was unhappy without them. Those are the things that come to mind. But I'll have to admit that running across a trinket from the past can trigger thoughts I might not have otherwise had, be it a box of china or a picture or merely the memory of a hat.

Its tricky business, knowing what's important. My advice is sell it if you can get a good price or give it a good home. Can you really see your aunt frowning about that? But then you'll have to explain yourself to the as-yet-unknown daughter-in-law who would have dearly loved it. There's no winning, so we have to content ourselves with having done what's most comfortable and claiming to have done the best we could. Under the circumstances. At the time.

Please send $50 consultation fee to J&R, Unlimited, antique liquidators, consultants, jack-leg plumbers, literary critics, family counselors and guide service. Cash preferred. You know the address.

-- J (jsnider@hal-pc.org), July 28, 2004.

Don't sell it! She will haunt you if you do, and the money you get will bring very bad luck.

Keep it as a family heirloom and investment. It will probably appreciate better than stocks or CDs over time.

Well you asked for it so that's my opinion.

-- (sonofdust@keep.it), July 28, 2004.

Thanks a lot, Jefe! Redneck took all my music CD's and tried to trade em for dishes at flea markets! I knew I should have stayed out of the advice business.

-- J (jsnider@hal-pc.org), July 28, 2004.

Sell them to someone who wants them. They may not be used, but they may become part of a collection and actually see the light of day. Someone out there probably wants a collection like that very much.

-- helen (mule@covets.the.pattern), July 30, 2004.

That seeing-the-light-of-day thing sounds good to me, too. I visited a couple of "museums" in Kansas back in the '90's in kind-of out-of- the-way places (Hays, etc.) that were packed with sixties muscle cars. I wanted to cry, seeing all that beautiful iron sitting there gathering dust, waiting to be blown away by a tornado to make the owner rich with insurance money. It should be out on the road being enjoyed the way young Lon and I used to enjoy our corner- straighners. A dozen in a museum don't compare to one rumbling at a stop light.

-- J (jsnider@hal-pc.org), August 03, 2004.