Joy and beauty endure when a precious object is handed down to a younger generation, both in the collectible itself and the memory it holds of familial past. In these letters, our readers share moving recollections of their most cherished heirlooms.
My grandmother lived with us while I was growing up. In the corner of her room was the most beautiful piece of furniture: a slant-front mahogany writing desk with lion-paw feet that she had insisted travel with her when she moved in with our family. I loved helping her dust it each week, marveling at the many little drawers and slots and polishing the golden-red pattern of the grain with a soft cloth and lemon oil.
Time passed, and after my grandmother died, the desk became mine. There was something about sitting before its rich, solid beauty that evoked deep focus and a longing to read, to study, to contemplate. I spent many hours in high school, college, and graduate school at the slant-front desk, completing two master’s theses and filling countless journals with my private thoughts. No matter where I lived, the writing desk came with me and became a special place that retained its calming charm.
I had always wondered exactly how old the desk was, and the answer came unexpectedly in 2008 when my aunt, a retired professor of biology, traveled to Virginia to see my new home. When she spotted the writing desk, she exclaimed, “My desk! I always wondered where it ended up.”
“Your desk, Aunt Lucille?”
“My father—your grandfather—bought that desk for me in 1928,” she said, smiling as she ran her hand over the worn wooden front. “He said a scholar needed a place to work. There’s something special about it, isn’t there?” She had left it with her mother when she entered the Sisters of St. Dominic and became a nun. We had just assumed it was my grandmother’s.
There is indeed something special about the slant-front writing desk. For nearly one hundred years, the women of my family have loved the beautiful mahogany desk. We have read, contemplated, and written about many subjects: biology, literature, business. But the thread that weaves our work together is the writing desk itself.
JEANNE GRUNERT
Prospect, Virginia
It sat in an unheated garage for 62 years. At a family reunion, I asked which of my six siblings had received the family cuckoo clock. My brother, who had bought the house we grew up in, said he thought he had it but didn’t know where it was, nor even if all the pieces had been kept together. He acted like it would be a bother, so I dropped the matter. One year later, a large box appeared on my front porch. It was from my brother.
When I opened the box, I found the long-missing cuckoo clock. All the pieces were there. My brother explained that it had been stored in the garage since we moved into the house in 1960, where it sat in a packing box, never opened. Once he retired, he had time to look for it and, knowing how much I wanted it, shipped it to me.
We had assumed that our parents bought the clock in the early 1950s while stationed in Heidelberg, Germany. It’s a woodsman clock but not nearly as fancy as many of those in the store, so I didn’t expect the monetary value to be that great. As I learned that the restoration would be very costly, I hesitated to leave it for repair. When I collected it again, the clock expert expressed how delighted he was to work on such a treasure. He found that it had the original mechanism—which is no longer made—and estimated that it was built in the 1890s. Thus, it went from being a standard cuckoo clock to an antique of great value. However, no assigned value could surpass that which it held in my heart: a cherished reminder of our family and our German heritage.
SHARON MILLSAP
Bee Cave, Texas
My grandmother’s now antique china cabinet dominated her small dining room, standing sentinel over all who entered. As children, my cousin and I were fascinated with the twin lion heads at the top—almost gargoyle-like with their mouths splayed open in a permanent roar—and the beastly paws supporting the cabinet at the bottom. Being too small to reach the heads, we would squat and stroke the paws instead.
Packed with Haviland Limoges china, teacups, and cut glass, that cabinet sparked my love of all things antique at a young age, inspiring me to furnish my home with such treasures as an adult. It also holds special memories of Thanksgiving and Christmas dinners with extended family, eating Grandma’s home-cooked meals upon the finery.
My grandmother so treasured this china cabinet that even in her final years, she never forgot it. When a fire broke out at the nursing home, her first question was, “Is my china cabinet safe?” After her death, my aunt inherited the cabinet, then passed it to her youngest daughter—the same cousin who had patted the lion’s paws with me when we were children. In 2009, my cousin graciously passed the cabinet along to me, and I am honored to be its curator today. It is precious to me—a beautiful reminder of all the happy times spent in my grandmother’s company.
VALERIE WEICH
Glendale, California
A small glass cup with a curved handle displaying “Worlds Fair” in fancy curved script, under which the numbers “1893” boldly proclaim the year: This item has been my family’s cherished heirloom through many decades and many relocations. The piece commemorates the World’s Columbian Exposition, also called the Chicago World’s Fair, which ran from May through October of that year. While the cup itself holds interest due to its historical significance, its personal magnitude has made it a prize among my family members. For us, it celebrates the birth of my grandmother, Eleanor Theresa Berkes, in August of 1893. Eleanor’s aunts lived in Chicago and purchased the cup at the fair, not only to remember the exhibition but also to celebrate the new baby’s arrival.
As the youngest of Eleanor’s eleven grandchildren, and the one who carries her name, I am proud to be the current custodian of this family heirloom—this small cup that commemorates the world’s fair and my grandmother’s birth. It is a piece I will continue to cherish and, eventually, pass to my daughter.
DOROTHY CHARRON
Winter Springs, Florida
When I married into the Lester name, I gained a wonderful husband, a terrific family, and the matriarch’s collection of her grandmother’s flow-blue Iris china. For celebratory meals, we set the table with our best linens, fresh flowers, and that set of dishes. Among them was the soup tureen; its contents nourished our bodies, and the generational memories it held nurtured our spirits. Though, sadly, my husband and the rest of that family is now gone, on special occasions I still fill that tureen, arrange blossoms, light the candles, and savor the soup, recalling the beautiful moments when we laughed and lingered around the table together, dipping again and again into that bowl that held the true nourishment: enduring love.
MEERA LESTER
Concord, California
My family has a most cherished heirloom that belonged to my late grandfather. It is an antique filigree necklace, specially made in England, that resembles flower-laden vines and is set with precious stones that sparkle in the light. Imagine my astonishment and joy when I opened a copy of Victoria magazine and discovered stunning jewelry that resembled our piece! I knew I had to tell you my story, as it meant a lot to me to see this similar design in print. This evoked many feelings of my dear Grandpa Boon, who served his country during World War II and was awarded the United Kingdom’s Defence Medal (another family heirloom).
The necklace came about due to my grandfather’s kindness and support to a friend. When the man was able to get back on his feet again and established a jewelry store, he remembered Grandpa’s kindness and gifted him with this piece as a token of his appreciation. Grandpa presented it to my mother for her wedding. Years later, she wore the necklace when her son, my brother, married. To this day, Mom tells us the story behind the beloved heirloom, and that is how we keep the memory of my dear grandfather alive.
CLAIRE LEE
Chicago, Illinois
When I was about twelve years old, my grandmother made a quilt for me from scraps of her old dresses. I remember thinking it was so beautiful. While we were all admiring it that Christmas morning, my mother said to me, “This quilt will become an heirloom.” It was the first time I had heard that word, and I was not sure what it meant. She explained and she was right; nearly fifty years later I still treasure that quilt, and someday it will be passed down to someone in my family. What’s more, I can trace my love for quilting to the treasure Grandma made and gave me that Christmas Day long ago.
LYNN KRUEGER
Elmira, Ontario, Canada
It was the year 1903 when my twelve-year-old grandmother, Velma, rode to town with her parents on the back of the wagon of mules. The sun could not have been any brighter than the beaming smile on her face as she counted out her savings of coins to purchase the brand-new pump organ in the store window. She had eyed the instrument for several years, planning her strategy to bring it home and call it her very own.
No one in her family played the organ, nor was she able to either, but that did not stop her from wanting that beautiful walnut piece of magnificence. Her parents, John and America Jane, told her she would have to figure out a way to purchase the organ with funds she raised herself. After considerable thought, Velma concluded the best way was to raise and sell turkeys. At the age of twelve, she finally reached her goal to obtain the exquisite instrument.
As the only granddaughter and the only grandchild able to play the organ, I inerited it. Although I have read that antique pump organs are not worth anything anymore, I would not take a million dollars for my precious heirloom! It was purchased with a labor of love, and I am so thankful to call it mine.
MYRA JANE SLOAN
Lebanon, Tennessee
One of our most treasured family heirlooms is a Seth Thomas clock that belonged to my great-grandmother, Annie, who emigrated from Northern Ireland through Pennsylvania, ultimately ending up in a wee farming town outside of Calgary, Alberta, Canada, near the beginning of the twentieth century. This charming clock has a faux green-and-gray marble housing, and the delicate decorative details that recall the elegance of yesteryear. It likely graced a mantel at some point in its life and has occupied a position of honor atop numerous shelves and cabinets over the years. Oh, the places it has been, and the things it has seen. Great-Grandma Annie had it for a long while, and then it went to her daughter, my Great Aunt Birdie, who had the clock for many years. At some point along the way, it was christened “Old Rheumatism.”
When I was young, it was a special privilege of mine to carefully wind this precious clock. As I have grown older, it has always been a great story starter for tales of family history. I have now inherited Old Rheumatism. It’s a beautiful little clock that holds a place of honor in my home. While it’s quite pretty and an antique, the value for me and my grown daughters is the family history this clock has witnessed.
SUZANNE STONE
Fallbrook, California
Uncle Jim was in the Army Air Corp in World War II. Stationed in Guam, he was in charge of supplies, one of them being the parachutes that accompanied Allied aviators on their missions. Material used in those parachutes was DuPont nylon sourced from a domestic silk mill in Manchester, New Hampshire, where up to three hundred parachutes a day were turned out during peak wartime production.
At the end of the war, Uncle Jim was able to purchase a parachute, which he happily brought home to his mother, my grandmother. A longtime seamstress, Grandma Rose lovingly turned the beautiful silk-like material into tiny slips and baptismal gowns for a few of her 55 grandchildren who were born after the war. I was one of the lucky recipients, wearing the gown she gifted to my parents. All five of my siblings also wore the baptismal set before my mother passed it on to me. Each of my three children wore it, and it graced my granddaughter on the day she was baptized. This gift from Uncle Jim to my Grandma Rose—which through her talents she turned into a beautiful treasure—is something my family will continue to cherish through time.
CONNIE WOEHLER
Evansville, Indiana
To read more letters from our readers about beloved family heirlooms, see “Long-Remembered Legacies” in the March/April 2025 issue, available on newsstands and at victoriamag.com. Plus, submit your thoughts for our current Reader-to-Reader prompt for a chance to have your letter printed in an upcoming issue of Victoria!
