STUFF-Trash or Treasure?

Yesterday we came home from the office and found 4 boxes sitting on our front porch. Jeanie had mailed them from Washington.. the last of the things from Mom's house. She, Mona and Buffy had spent a long Saturday going thru all the boxes we had packed up in Boise- the items that we knew Mom loved the best, that represented memories or treasures for her. Don't misunderstand- Mom and Dad didn't have much that the world would consider valuable, but, they were treasures none the less. Anyway, the girls went thru and divided things up.. calling Bob and me often as they went through the different boxes to check with us about what we wanted. So, I basically knew what to expect.. although they did throw in some random things they decided I 'aught' to have.. or things they couldn't bear to throw away but didn't want themselves (let's give that to Marnie!). But, I have to say, it was harder than I expected to sit down and pull out carefully wrapped items one by one and unroll the paper to discover what was inside. I laughed, cried and shook my head a lot.. Really you saved this, Mom?? None of them wanted the clip earrings or the costume jewelry so I got it all. Some I recognized as being Grandma Reay's, some I suspect was Aunt Liz's.. It ranged from the stunning to cheapo garage sale. There were gifts I had made over the years, some plates from Grandma's Reay's hoard, sweaters, scarfs, etc etc. As I gently handled each item, some brought forth memories poignant and dear, others held no memory for me at all- usually things brought into her treasure trove long after I left home. I wish that I knew the story behind them.
Anyway, all this 'sifting thru the ashes', so to speak, made me realize again that 'things' have no real value beyond the memories they represent. I began to look around MY stuff with new eyes. Have I told our children the family stories often enough for them to remember? When they pull out that little broken off piece of blue tile will they know that I picked that up in Israel just outside of Shepherd's Field where the angels sang? Or will they recognize the tarnished sixpence that Mom, Kelli & I wore in our shoe the day we were married? Or will they know that that little wooden yo yo was one my Dad (Wayne), always carried in his pocket- even thru the terrible battles of WWII? They say a library burns when an old person dies.. Now that I'm the "Matriarch" (ugh, what a title!..) of the family, I guess I feel a greater urgency to document, not just our genealogy but the stories that make our family special & bind us together.
I guess a good place to start is with the 'treasures' I got in the mail yesterday. Then at least when my kids start going thru my junk they can have a laugh at the story behind that weird piece of pottery.. before they toss it! I'm off to take pictures..