Blog Post One

Heirlooms and Legacies

Cory Trimble

            In our lives, we take our past experiences and what we know to be true about the world into our being.  It makes us who we are.  We are all slightly (or vastly) different from one another based upon these things.  The heirlooms we inherit, whether physical or mental, shape our whole identity.  Whether these are things we chose to carry with us or things that we are branded with isn’t always clear, but they change us nonetheless. 

           

What might be considered an heirloom?  When considering the progression of pop culture, modern influence, and the almost seamless pattern of change that occurs within our lives, an heirloom is a physical or mental relic which brings us back to our origin.  An ideal or an object which was passed down from our grandparents, for example, holds a lot of significance when dealing with things of the past.  Simpler times, values which have long since been forgotten, or things which might be considered outlandish by modern society are all heirlooms. 

           

In my specific case, I remember the people that my grandparents were.  Thinking back to when I was young, I remember thinking that their way of life was so plain.  Devout Christians, my grandparents were very quiet, meek people.  I recall my visits to their house being near silent, with the exception of the grandfather clock which could always be heard ticking when all else fell silent.  Despite the illusory quality of plainness, they were actually more complex than I ever had the pleasure of knowing.

           

In my grandpa’s basement, there were various tools and rigs set about.  It was a musty, dark room.  On one table you would see a band saw surrounded by mounds of sawdust.  In the center of the room, there was a drill press decorated with silver, shimmering twists of metal which had been bored out of various scraps of metal.  My grandpa was a woodworker, among other things.  In a dark, damp corner, there were piles of miscellaneous odds and ends which he kept in the event that he needed them.  Where he had a passion for crafting things out of wood, he used these tools to craft his own parts to repair things which needed it.  The thing which stood out among all else was his fascination with stringed musical instruments. 

           

The living room of the house was full of banjos, guitars, and harpsichords.  I had never heard him play, but the maintaining and creation of stringed instruments is an art in and of itself.  Occasionally experimenting with them myself, I had no understanding of the proper way to use them.  Being a kid is interesting in the sense that everything is new to you.  This was just one of those things for me.  It wasn’t until I had reached a certain age that I understood why he would ever pursue this as a hobby.

At the age of 14, I had discovered that I have a gift for rhythm.  While I may have never reached a world class skill in playing drums, I began noticing things about instruments themselves.  My brother seemed to have inherited this quality as well.  While I was on the percussive side, he chose to put his time and effort into stringed instruments just like my grandpa.  Specializing in bass guitar, there was one particular thing in my grandpa’s possession that appealed to him.  Upon my grandpa’s death when I was 17, this is just the thing that he left for my brother.

In the dark corner of the basement was a double bass.  One might picture it as being a giant violin, and this isn’t exactly a mislabeling of what the instrument is.  The day it was discovered, it had no strings.  It also had no attachment method for the strings for that matter.  My brother set out to take this instrument and make it playable.  Using tools very similar to what my grandpa had in that basement, my brother restored it to playing condition.  When my brother decided to move to Colorado, I ultimately inherited this piece.

An object is just an object, but this particular object is something more.  It’s an embodiment of the lessons which my grandpa subtly taught to both myself and my brother.  The most important thing learned is the idea of craftsmanship.  This singular idea of creating or maintaining something and being proud of it is representative of not only a good work ethic, but an appreciation for the various trades that life has to offer.  While I may not ever craft or restore a musical instrument, I can take the implied mentality and apply it to anything I do in my life.  I’ve always held close to me the idea that “Anything worth doing is worth doing right.” 

While I was too young to know my grandpa as a person, I carry this concept with me through my life because it’s a truth which showed through everything that he did.  The intricacy of something like a pitch-perfect musical instrument is symbolic of perfection.  We may not always be perfect, but we can at least strive to be.  Human beings are imperfect by nature.  It’s when we’re reminded of this fact that we either accept it or try harder.  In light of this lesson I was taught, I always try to do the latter.