Taking home the priceless treasures ~ March 16, 1989

David Heiller

Grandma Schnick

If you put all the items together, there is hardly enough to make a garage sale purchase: an afghan, some drinking glasses, a framed needlework, a platter and cake plate, a toy teapot, and two rocks.

Maybe you’d get 10 bucks for the whole works. Practically worthless.

But look a little closer.

The afghan, with rows of bright flowers, each different, fitted amid a black border, you’d hardly guess it’s over 100 years old, but I know it’s a work of art to cuddle under on the living room couch in the winter.

The drinking glasses, with pheasants flying off them, pheasants we could feel and almost hear as we drank milk around the crowded kitchen table when company came.

David with Grandma Schnick and his sister Lynette.

The tiny silver teapot that sat on the white cabinet next to the kitchen sink. The lid, etched with lace, doesn’t fit snugly anymore, but it is perfect for a little girl pretending to be grown up, or a big girl remembering the child.

The platter from Germany on the wall over the sewing machine, part of the living room ever since Danny sent it from Germany 20 years ago. His name is still carefully written on a piece of masking tape on the back, for Grandma to remember a thoughtful grandson, and for Danny too.

David and Grandma Schnick. 
(Detail from a larger photo.)

On another wall, an oval frame that holds a cluster of blue flowers on a burlap back. The flowers are yarn, a simple cluster made beautiful by the old frame and thick glass and a granddaughter’s patient handiwork.

The glass cake platter that sits like a monarch in the china cupboard on a carved pedestal, the reigning king of all other dishes, cups, and saucers. Grandma respected its rank, and only took it out for company.

Above the cake platter, hiding behind a cup, an owl. That’s what Grandma called it. She found it on an ocean beach in Texas, a piece of white quartz with a red top and two spots that stare like an owl, as any kid can see, an owl surprised from its afternoon nap.

Grandma Schnick's rocks,
one the surprised owl and
one amazingly smooth and round.

And anther rock, black, the size of a quarter, a half inch thick, and perfectly round and smooth. Perfectly. It almost looks man-made, but it’s a rock all right. Grandpa found, it on a walk with Grandma in 1950. She put it in her purse, and kept it there. She used to take it out once a-year or so and show it to me. She would hold it between her thumb and forefinger and rub it like a good luck charm. I wished Grandma would give it to me, but she never offered, and I knew better than to ask. Until now.

We saw these things most of our life. We took them for granted, but they grew on us, just like Grandma did, and became a part of us. When we looked again last Sunday, in the cupboards and on the walls, we found treasures, not worthless, but priceless.

An owl now sits in our kitchen on a shelf, watching over us sleepily. A little black rock, perfectly smooth, lies in my sock drawer. My daughter already likes it as much as I do. She feels its smooth surface, and spins it like a top. I’ll take it out and show it to her about once a year or so.