Posted in Aging

Old Stuff by Ginger Keller Gannaway

        In 2016 while cleaning out my grandma’s attic, I held up a dilapidated box that held tap shoes from 1960 when I was four years old.

“Should I keep these?” I asked a friend who was helping us go through the treasure and the trash in a home built in the 1890s.

“Of course!” said Mark.

“Can’t believe Momma saved them! Can’t think why I’d want these.”

“We like old things,” Mark explained.

An epiphany hit me like a couple of rusted TV trays and a stolen ash tray from Caesars Palace (circa 1966). I do like old stuff!  Mama Joe’s pie safe where Momma stored mismatched glassware and playing cards; Dad’s beat-up paint stool that my cousin found on Grandma’s back porch; stacks of brittle love letters between Reggie and Gerry (my parents) when they were courting in the 1940’s; a partial set of Shakespeare plays, faded, bent and water-logged, that an intuitive student gave me right before he graduated. “I found these in our attic and thought of you,” he had told me.

Mama Joe’s pie safe

Also, my tastes in movies are in the “old” category: Casablanca, High Noon, and Rear Window. Likewise, two of my favorite books are Great Expectations and Wuthering Heights. I adore my turntable and stereo receiver from 1972. The U.S. city I most love to visit- New Orleans – is a place where the past clings to everything like the moss in the live oaks.

Old stuff comforts me. It connects me to some of my best memories. When I use Momma’s bent-up aluminum bun warmer she got as a wedding present in 1954, I remember homemade biscuits in the kitchen with family gathered for a holiday. I smell coffee from a well-used pot on the stove and hear kids and adults vying for space and talking over one another.  I recall the taste of hot boudin from Johnson’s Grocery. 

Lately, I’ve been obsessed with old pictures. I especially love the black and white photos, the ones from before I was born and the ones of me as a child. Life seemed simpler and easier. I’m not sure that’s accurate, but that rose-colored tint does slip over my memories before puberty hit and sent me to the land of pimples and self-doubt. 

Reginald A. Keller, 1929
Geraldine and Stretch, 1952

According to the CDC guidelines for the coronavirus pandemic, I’m “high risk” and I could go to the local grocery store’s early hours for old folks.  I suppose Gary (age 75) and I (64 today) are old people. 

Too bad our society does not extend a love of old things to old people. No one I know looks forward to old age. We fear the weak mind and frail body as much as the loneliness and incontinence. I wish I felt the same comfort and peace when I hold someone’s wrinkled and arthritic hand that I get when I run my fingers over the dents of a bun warmer or the rough paint flecks of a wooden stool. 

Dad’s paint stool from Keller Advertising days

I’m not one of the enlightened. I wish these uncertain days with lots of time for reading and praying and thinking might guide me to an appreciation for old stuff that includes old folks. As much as I like my fat-faced images when I was two, I should be kinder to the 64-year-old I see in the mirror now. She’s doing the best she can with what she’s got, and that needs to be enough.


I grew up as a crooked girl who dealt with a mild case of cerebral palsy. In a small Cajun town during the 1960s, I relied on my little sisters' support and energy to give me confidence and our grandma's movie theater to help me escape when life's "pas bon" moments overwhelmed me.

14 thoughts on “Old Stuff by Ginger Keller Gannaway

  1. Happy Birthday Ginger! Loved reading this. I am a lover of old things and I wish I had treasured a lot of older people who’ve gone on now while they were still here and I was “just too busy” to spend more time with them than I did. Oh how 20/20 hind sight really is.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. I get what you mean! As much as I didn’t realize it when my dad lived with us (even though friends warned me of the loss I’d feel) I did not “treasure” his final days with us. Thanks for reading and commenting!

      Liked by 1 person

  2. ❤️ this article. Never knew about the paint stool. Pretty sure we have a similar bread warmer at mamas and I think Claudia has claimed it. !!! I feel like your memories are my memories. Our lives were and still are so closely knitted together 😊😊


    1. Gina, thank you, thank you!! Your words mean so very much to me because you understand where I came from. I’m so lucky to have a cousin as supportive and funny and loving as you!


  3. As I was gluing broken items around the house- I’m remembering – Reginald and Gerry’s visit long ago and uncle “ Stretch” proceeded to glue a broken Chinese bowl of ours! (yeah!)while aunt Gerry and I nibbled on cobbler. Wabi sabi Ginger. And your mom held onto imperfect things as her hutch claimed those unmatched items -A friend says, it’s a privilege to grow old – I agree! May the 64th be WITH YOU!!!And yes, I have claimed the biscuit warmer but think Ben has it!


  4. I know. Its blue light glow makes me feel better every time I hit the power button. Thanks for reading. I love feedback from someone who writes as beautifully as you do!

    Liked by 1 person

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