I think that those things are only meaningless because the parents/grandparents didn’t or couldn’t engage with the next generation about it. Heirlooms, trinkets, and tchotchkes have to be imbued with stories and sentiment otherwise they’re just junk.

20th century hyper-consumerism sold the idea that you could buy sentimentality and proceeded to replace things that were valuable because of their unique stories with things that were valuable because of “the collectible market.” There’s a big difference between “this Coke sign was in your great-great-grandpa’s soda fountain” and “this Coke sign is valued at $100.” Likewise, a box of old family photos fails to have value when you can’t identify the people in the photos and the relative you inherited them from didn’t bother taking the time.

My ex’s parents almost donated a little crystal bowl thing. If they did, someone at the thrift shop would have found a nice little crystal bowl thing.

The reality? Her mom’s family was living in Europe because her grandfather’s job and while they were there they met some people who escaped the USSR. Long story short, since they were allowed, her family ended up crossing into the USSR with a bundle of photos and letters to give to the family of the people they had met. The family still behind the iron curtain was so grateful they gave them the crystal bowl. That bowl would have been very valuable to them, but the information about their family in France was worth so much more.

I took the bowl instead. Its little story, and that family’s gratitude, is not forgotten and now it holds some candy on my bookshelf.

Moving my mom into a home next month and dealing with the lifetime of Meaningful Things she has piled up everywhere.

Meanwhile I live in a studio apartment and whenever I clean, if I haven't looked at it or used it in a year I give it away/throw it out.

When I die only my writing will be left, and that will probably fade from cultural memory more quickly than I'd like.

There's probably a happy medium to be found somewhere. Maybe I'll start carving my name on trees or deface priceless artwork.

No! Use Up the Photographs!!

We go to a lot of estate sales and its really wild sometimes just like, being in the homes of often dead people, just sort of, seeing their stuff and their life.

Plus as you said, all the stuff that was probably very enjoyed by those people just sort of, scavenged, but also how much is basically ignored and discarded. Sometimes it makes me a little sad.

A friend of mine's house is mostly decorated with paintings by his grandmother, who was a very accomplished artist in her day. I always thought that was cool as hell

The boomers and Xers who rolled their eyes at their kids playing video games or collecting pokemon cards don't get to wonder aloud why said children don't give a shit about their model train set. Arriving on death's door without achieving even that much self-awareness should get you reincarnated as a broiler chicken.

I'm a woodworker, you see this in woodworking circles. Appreciation for antique furniture often comes with an interest in the craft, and to appeal to that you'll hear hosts of woodworking shows say things like "And there you have it, a dining table that will last for generations."

That table is going to the landfill before you stop breathing because you built it to exactly fit the dining room of the house you reverse mortgaged, Robert. Your sister and brothers-in-law all have their own dining room tables already and none of your children will ever own a home. Nobody cares about the real breadboard ends; they always stuck out and looked terrible anyway.

You mentioned photography. I have a lawn and leaf bag full of photographs that belong to my ancestors. I never look at them, because the context I have for them is "a person." "That's your aunt Jean!" ...okay. I've got photo albums of my own early childhood, photos I remember being taken, I don't look at those either.

But then you've got PHOTOGRAPHY photography. The kind of photography where other photographers will complement you on composition and depth of field. If you're a serious hobby photographer, your family is going to develop a deep antipathy for photography because of what you'll spend your life doing to them. Your death means never having to hear the lecture on film speeds again, and the opportunity to finally take a hammer to that goddamn Nikon.

The solution is to go get younger friends, people who are actually interested in the things you've collected you can pass down their stories to. You're probably not mentally able to do that because kids these days say "no problem" instead of "you're welcome" so...yeah your precious mound of shit is going in the garbage.

I'm at the stage of trying to get rid of things. A friend broke her teapot recently, and I was able to gift her a favourite one of mine - no regrets! I still get to drink tea from it when I visit. The hardest thing to part with (and stop buying) is books.