Don't begin by asking what everything is worth

Some belongings have financial value.

Many don't.

But value and meaning aren't the same thing.

An inexpensive kitchen bowl may have been used every Sunday for forty years.

A battered toolbox may have belonged to someone who built half the furniture in the family home.

A chipped ornament may be the one a child chose for the Christmas tree every year.

The question isn't only:

What is this worth?

Sometimes another question matters more:

What do we know about this?

Find out whose it was

If you don't know, ask.

Who owned this?

Was it always theirs?

Did it come from someone before them?

Did they buy it?

Make it?

Receive it as a gift?

Bring it from somewhere else?

Sometimes one answer changes an anonymous object into part of a family story.

Write the answer down.

Don't assume everyone will remember later.

Ask why it was kept

This may be the most useful question of all.

Why did we keep this?

Sometimes nobody knows.

That's okay.

But sometimes the answer opens a story.

Grandma bought that with her first paycheck.

Dad carried that on every camping trip.

Those were the glasses they received when they married.

Grandad made that himself.

Mom couldn't bear to throw away his last birthday card.

The object may be ordinary.

The reason it remained may not be.

Ask how it was used

An object's story often lives in what happened around it.

Who used it?

Where?

When?

Was it part of someone's work?

Was it used every day?

Did it come out only at Christmas?

Did someone teach another person how to use it?

Was there a particular place it always sat?

You may discover that the most interesting story isn't really about the object at all.

It is about the life that happened around it.

Photograph it before you let it go

You don't need special equipment.

A phone camera is enough.

Photograph the whole object.

Then look more closely.

The front.

The back.

The underside.

An inscription.

A label.

A maker's mark.

A repair.

A handwritten note.

A date.

A name.

A place where years of use have left a mark.

If the object has a box, letter, instruction sheet or other material that belongs with it, photograph those too.

The goal isn't to create a museum catalogue.

It is simply to preserve enough that someone can recognize what was there.

Photograph it where it belongs

Before moving an object, consider taking one more photograph.

Not against a blank wall.

Where it actually lived.

The clock on the mantelpiece.

The tools above the workbench.

The mixing bowl in the kitchen.

The books on the shelf.

The chair beside the window.

Context can carry a different kind of memory.

Years later, the room around the object may matter just as much as the object itself.

Record the marks of a life

Wear isn't always damage to be hidden.

A handle polished smooth by years of use.

Notes written in the margin of a cookbook.

Paint on the handle of a tool.

A repaired seam.

A name scratched underneath.

A stain on a recipe card.

These details can tell us that something wasn't merely owned.

It was used.

Photograph them before they disappear with the object.

Keep the handwriting

If there is handwriting, preserve an image of it.

A label.

A dedication inside a book.

A recipe.

A note taped underneath something.

A name written on a box.

You can transcribe the words as well if that makes them easier to read or search later.

But don't keep only the transcription.

The words tell us what someone wrote.

The handwriting carries something of the person who wrote them.

Record what you know

A useful record doesn't have to be complicated.

For an object that matters, try to capture:

What is it?

Who did it belong to?

Where did it come from?

Approximately when did they have it?

How was it used?

Why was it kept?

Is there a particular memory or story connected with it?

Who else might know more?

You may know all of those things.

You may know only one.

Record what you know.

Leave the rest open.

Separate what is known from what is remembered

Families carry stories for generations.

Sometimes the details become uncertain.

Perhaps everyone says a watch belonged to your great-grandfather.

Nobody knows exactly when he received it.

Someone remembers hearing that it came from France.

Someone else isn't sure.

You don't have to resolve that uncertainty before preserving the story.

Write:

We were always told...

I remember Mom saying...

We think this may have...

We don't know for certain...

Uncertainty is part of the record too.

It is better to preserve an honest question than turn a family recollection into a fact simply because time has made it difficult to check.

Ask someone to tell you about it

If someone knows the object's story, you don't necessarily have to write everything down yourself.

Ask them.

Then, if they're comfortable, record the conversation.

Put the object in front of them.

Ask:

Do you remember this?

Whose was it?

Why did they have it?

Where did they keep it?

What do you remember when you see it?

Then listen.

The object may lead somewhere you weren't expecting.

Let the object open a memory

Perhaps you begin by asking about a sewing machine.

Ten minutes later, nobody is talking about the sewing machine.

They're talking about the dresses your grandmother made.

The room where she worked.

The sound of the machine.

Learning to sew beside her.

The clothes she made for school.

That's not a distraction.

The object did its work.

It opened the memory.

Follow the story where it goes.

You don't have to keep something because it has a story

This matters.

Discovering that an object has meaning doesn't create an obligation to keep it.

You may not have the room.

It may be difficult to move.

Nobody in the family may want it.

It may need care you cannot provide.

Or you may simply decide that keeping it isn't right for you.

You can still photograph it.

Record its story.

Preserve the handwriting.

Write down who owned it.

Then let the physical object continue elsewhere—or let it go.

Caring about something and keeping it forever are not the same decision.

Passing something on can preserve more than keeping it

Sometimes another person wants the object.

If so, send the story with it.

Don't give someone simply Grandma's necklace.

Tell them whose it was.

What you know about it.

Why it mattered.

Include a photograph or note.

Perhaps include a recording of someone talking about it.

The next person then receives more than the thing.

They receive some of its context.

If you donate it, you can still keep its story

An object may leave the family entirely.

That's okay.

Take the photographs first.

Write down what you know.

Record the memory.

Then donate the object if that is the right thing to do.

The object and its story don't always have to travel together.

Sometimes preserving the story gives us permission to let the thing go.

If you sell it, preserve the story first

The same principle applies when something is sold.

Once an object enters an estate sale, auction, marketplace or antique shop, the family may never see it again.

Before that happens, take a moment.

Photograph it.

Check for names and inscriptions.

Ask whether anyone knows where it came from.

Record the story if there is one.

Then make the practical decision about what happens next.

Before you let something go, preserve what you know about it.

Don't try to document everything

A family home may contain thousands of objects.

You don't need to create a record for every plate, towel, book and screwdriver.

Notice the things that make someone pause.

Oh, I remember that.

Dad always used this.

That came from Grandma.

We had this when we were children.

Those little reactions can be clues.

Not instructions.

Not proof that something must be kept.

Simply invitations to look again before deciding.

Let some things simply be things

Not every object carries a story.

Sometimes a chair is just a chair.

A box is just a box.

A set of dishes is simply something that was used.

You don't have to manufacture meaning because something is old or belonged to a relative.

Ember doesn't ask you to preserve everything.

Keep what is known.

Keep what matters to you.

And let the rest go without guilt.

Before you let something go

Pause for a moment.

Look at it.

Ask whose it was.

Ask why it was kept.

Photograph it.

Look for handwriting, names, dates and marks.

Ask someone what they remember.

Write down what you know.

Perhaps a story appears.

Perhaps it doesn't.

Then decide what happens to the object.

Keep it.

Pass it on.

Donate it.

Sell it.

Or let it go.

Preserving the story and preserving the object are not the same thing.

Sometimes we can do one even when we cannot do the other.