Late to this party, Mr. Aylen, but just found your substack as a result of reading an amusing comment on another substack made by one of your followers. (The comment was “meh”.)
I was so glad you decided to hold on to most of your personal correspondence. To my adult children’s chagrin, I haven’t yet begun unburdening my household, nor has my husband his shop, but my personal correspondence, including many Christmas cards with pictures of the sender’s family, will have to be discarded by my family after I am gone. One of my offspring suggested we sell it all and go on a trip of a lifetime. The last fabulous trip I took, I ended up in quarantine, good old Covid, in a motel. Had a huge picture window view of Golden, Colorado, that probably saved my sanity.
Great story, John. Oh, how I can relate. I look around at my accumulated clutter and keep thinking, I must do something about all this stuff, but it's so hard to part with the objects that hold memories. Sometimes I think that the best strategy would be to store it all in a shed, forget what's in there, and just accidentally burn it down one day! Well done, you. And well written, too. XX Felicity
When we moved from the Berkshires fourteen months ago, I was ruthless about getting rid of "things," but the archive of my life was something else. Every birthday card resonates for me. I ended up taking quite a volume of cards and photographs with me to Minnesota where it comforts me to know that I haven't been lost.
Letters are important. I'm glad you retrieved them. In this time of email and emoji, a letter brings so much else to the table. I have a stack from self to husband and vice versa and from family and friends - all stored in a venerable sea trunk from the 1860's. History...
I'm also commenting because the largest part of our life is spent in a little coastal village called Orford in the far south of the globe, on a little island called Tasmania. Serendipity.
A friend just called to tell me she found a stack of the letters I wrote to her from France in 1960-61. I can't wait to read them, transcribe them and send them to my family. The past is a beautiful country inhabited by the young. Thanks for your charming essay
My niece recently delivered a treasure trove of century-plus-old letters she found while cleaning out my brother's house after his death. He had brought them from our parents' house after they both died and which he probably never read. They are in several foreign languages and may hold clues to what became of our ancestors in Europe, all of whom were lost during the Holocaust. I regard them as treasure and am guarding them as such for the day when I have bolstered my courage enough to go through them. I've begun decluttering and donating my own "archive" that ranges from sentimental chachkas to my original writing. Thank you for writing and publishing this lovely piece. I'm certain many will identify with it as poignantly as I did.
A common dilemma of our age. My guideline for keeping or throwing away: Is the "me" who chose/kept/created the item someone I want to remember from time to time. Like the 22 year old who wrote a treatise on "Why I Hate Cocktail Parties". Or the 14 year old who made a list of Things I Will Never Do To My Children. When we still used carbon paper, I kept copies of letters I sent to friends and boyfriends. Your piece today reminded me that I had always intended to send them off to share the past I kept. Now might be a good time.
This really spoke to me. When I sold my literary papers to Michigan State University for their Special Archives, they carted off 93 boxes of manuscripts, letters to and from other authors, notes, journal copies, association copies of books, fan mail, domestic and foreign tour memorabilia, writing journals and diaries. People asked me if I missed that stuff and I really didn't and haven't. Letting go opened me up to a future of different books and possibilities, took a mental burden away, and as one friend said, garnered me "a small share of dusty immortality." https://www.levraphael.com/papers.html
Thanks for the share. I so remember being reluctant to part with a bed and futon which moved from my dads garage eventually to our basement which I was reluctant to part with ‘just in case’ the relationship didn’t work out. The futon and bed eventually moved with a young cousin to New York and then San Francisco…..we are still together. It’s the memories….the letters, book inscriptions….i so relate to. Thanks.
Late to this party, Mr. Aylen, but just found your substack as a result of reading an amusing comment on another substack made by one of your followers. (The comment was “meh”.)
I was so glad you decided to hold on to most of your personal correspondence. To my adult children’s chagrin, I haven’t yet begun unburdening my household, nor has my husband his shop, but my personal correspondence, including many Christmas cards with pictures of the sender’s family, will have to be discarded by my family after I am gone. One of my offspring suggested we sell it all and go on a trip of a lifetime. The last fabulous trip I took, I ended up in quarantine, good old Covid, in a motel. Had a huge picture window view of Golden, Colorado, that probably saved my sanity.
Great story, John. Oh, how I can relate. I look around at my accumulated clutter and keep thinking, I must do something about all this stuff, but it's so hard to part with the objects that hold memories. Sometimes I think that the best strategy would be to store it all in a shed, forget what's in there, and just accidentally burn it down one day! Well done, you. And well written, too. XX Felicity
Can’t wait for your next book. Spent time with David and Madina on the weekend before they leave for overseas. Be well, Merry Christmas!
Oh, John, I felt your loss, because there go we all towards the bigger loss.
When we moved from the Berkshires fourteen months ago, I was ruthless about getting rid of "things," but the archive of my life was something else. Every birthday card resonates for me. I ended up taking quite a volume of cards and photographs with me to Minnesota where it comforts me to know that I haven't been lost.
Letters are important. I'm glad you retrieved them. In this time of email and emoji, a letter brings so much else to the table. I have a stack from self to husband and vice versa and from family and friends - all stored in a venerable sea trunk from the 1860's. History...
I'm also commenting because the largest part of our life is spent in a little coastal village called Orford in the far south of the globe, on a little island called Tasmania. Serendipity.
A friend just called to tell me she found a stack of the letters I wrote to her from France in 1960-61. I can't wait to read them, transcribe them and send them to my family. The past is a beautiful country inhabited by the young. Thanks for your charming essay
Nice piece John - when you’re both free my wife would love you two to do that with my office ( once you unlock the door that only I have a key to)
My niece recently delivered a treasure trove of century-plus-old letters she found while cleaning out my brother's house after his death. He had brought them from our parents' house after they both died and which he probably never read. They are in several foreign languages and may hold clues to what became of our ancestors in Europe, all of whom were lost during the Holocaust. I regard them as treasure and am guarding them as such for the day when I have bolstered my courage enough to go through them. I've begun decluttering and donating my own "archive" that ranges from sentimental chachkas to my original writing. Thank you for writing and publishing this lovely piece. I'm certain many will identify with it as poignantly as I did.
A common dilemma of our age. My guideline for keeping or throwing away: Is the "me" who chose/kept/created the item someone I want to remember from time to time. Like the 22 year old who wrote a treatise on "Why I Hate Cocktail Parties". Or the 14 year old who made a list of Things I Will Never Do To My Children. When we still used carbon paper, I kept copies of letters I sent to friends and boyfriends. Your piece today reminded me that I had always intended to send them off to share the past I kept. Now might be a good time.
This really spoke to me. When I sold my literary papers to Michigan State University for their Special Archives, they carted off 93 boxes of manuscripts, letters to and from other authors, notes, journal copies, association copies of books, fan mail, domestic and foreign tour memorabilia, writing journals and diaries. People asked me if I missed that stuff and I really didn't and haven't. Letting go opened me up to a future of different books and possibilities, took a mental burden away, and as one friend said, garnered me "a small share of dusty immortality." https://www.levraphael.com/papers.html
Thanks for the share. I so remember being reluctant to part with a bed and futon which moved from my dads garage eventually to our basement which I was reluctant to part with ‘just in case’ the relationship didn’t work out. The futon and bed eventually moved with a young cousin to New York and then San Francisco…..we are still together. It’s the memories….the letters, book inscriptions….i so relate to. Thanks.