Poem or quote about heirlooms, family tradition or hand-me-downs?
June 9, 2015 12:33 PM
I am looking for suggestions for a short, sentimental/heartwarming/heartfelt poem or quote about heirlooms, family tradition or hand-me-downs to include on a gift for my grandmother. This is a thank-you gift for letting me wear her wedding dress at my own wedding and a tribute to the family tradition of marriages on the same date.
I am getting married on June 20 wearing my grandmother's 1946 wedding dress and to thank her for letting me wear (and alter) it, I am putting together a gift that will have photos of me, her, and her sister-in-law all wearing the same dress on three sides of a wooden tissue box holder, and a quote or poem on the fourth side. The date is also significant because she, her mother, and her grandmother all got married on June 21, and I chose June 20 to (almost) carry on that tradition. I'd like to find the perfect words to honor those traditions and thank her for passing them on to me.
Thanks for any suggestions!
I am getting married on June 20 wearing my grandmother's 1946 wedding dress and to thank her for letting me wear (and alter) it, I am putting together a gift that will have photos of me, her, and her sister-in-law all wearing the same dress on three sides of a wooden tissue box holder, and a quote or poem on the fourth side. The date is also significant because she, her mother, and her grandmother all got married on June 21, and I chose June 20 to (almost) carry on that tradition. I'd like to find the perfect words to honor those traditions and thank her for passing them on to me.
Thanks for any suggestions!
Congratulations on your wedding.
Your request brings to mind a poem by Phyllis McGinley. A bit like Sunrise, Sunset: maybe too sad.
Ballade of Lost Objects, by Phyllis McGinley
Where are the ribbons I tie my hair with?
Where is my lipstick? Where are my hose -
The sheer ones hoarded these weeks to wear with
Frocks the closets do not disclose?
Perfumes, petticoats, sports chapeaus,
The blouse Parisian, the earrings Spanish -
Everything suddenly up and goes.
And where in the world did the children vanish?
This is the house I used to share with
Girls in pinafores, shier than does.
I can recall how they climbed my stairs with
Gales of giggles on their tiptoes.
Last seen wearing both braids and bows
(And looking rather Raggedy-Annish),
When they departed nobody knows -
Where in the world did the children vanish?
Two tall strangers, now I must bear with,
Decked in my personal furbelows,
Raiding the larder, rending the air with
Gossip and terrible radios.
Neither my friends nor quite my foes,
Alien, beautiful, stern and clannish,
Here they dwell, while the wonder grows:
Where in the world did the children vanish?
Prince, I warn you, under the rose,
Time is the thief you cannot banish.
These are my daughters, I suppose.
But where in the world did the children vanish?
posted by dances_with_sneetches at 1:22 PM on June 9, 2015
Your request brings to mind a poem by Phyllis McGinley. A bit like Sunrise, Sunset: maybe too sad.
Ballade of Lost Objects, by Phyllis McGinley
Where are the ribbons I tie my hair with?
Where is my lipstick? Where are my hose -
The sheer ones hoarded these weeks to wear with
Frocks the closets do not disclose?
Perfumes, petticoats, sports chapeaus,
The blouse Parisian, the earrings Spanish -
Everything suddenly up and goes.
And where in the world did the children vanish?
This is the house I used to share with
Girls in pinafores, shier than does.
I can recall how they climbed my stairs with
Gales of giggles on their tiptoes.
Last seen wearing both braids and bows
(And looking rather Raggedy-Annish),
When they departed nobody knows -
Where in the world did the children vanish?
Two tall strangers, now I must bear with,
Decked in my personal furbelows,
Raiding the larder, rending the air with
Gossip and terrible radios.
Neither my friends nor quite my foes,
Alien, beautiful, stern and clannish,
Here they dwell, while the wonder grows:
Where in the world did the children vanish?
Prince, I warn you, under the rose,
Time is the thief you cannot banish.
These are my daughters, I suppose.
But where in the world did the children vanish?
posted by dances_with_sneetches at 1:22 PM on June 9, 2015
There's a song by Amy Grant, I think it's on her first christmas album, called Heirlooms. I don't know that the second verse, where it gets more overtly religious would work, but the beginning of the song is really lovely
Up in the attic
Down on my knees
Lifetimes of boxes
Timeless to me
Letters and photographs
Yellowed with years
Some bringing laughter
Some bringing tears
Time never changes
The memories, the faces
Of loved ones, who bring to me
All that I come from
And all that I live for
And all that I'm going to be
My precious family
Is more than an heirloom to me
posted by lemniskate at 10:00 AM on June 10, 2015
Up in the attic
Down on my knees
Lifetimes of boxes
Timeless to me
Letters and photographs
Yellowed with years
Some bringing laughter
Some bringing tears
Time never changes
The memories, the faces
Of loved ones, who bring to me
All that I come from
And all that I live for
And all that I'm going to be
My precious family
Is more than an heirloom to me
posted by lemniskate at 10:00 AM on June 10, 2015
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Something old,
Something new
Something borrowed,
Something blue.
posted by Oyéah at 1:10 PM on June 9, 2015