Two sets of my great-grandparents lived in log cabins, and I have pictures of both families standing in front of their respective cabins. I think they were taken about the same time by an itinerant photographer. There's an interesting story that goes with one of them:

In those days, the family used to get their firewood by going into the woods, finding a downed tree or maybe a standing dead one, chopping it down, chopping off the limbs, and using a mule to drag the log back home. They had a little rough-hewn wooden sled (or sledge?) that they put under the forward end of the log to make it easier to pull. This sled was left on the ground between the road and the split-rail fence, and it ended up in the foreground of the picture. The family was standing behind the fence, in the front yard and on the porch, and they weren't aware it was there. When the picture was developed, they said, "Oh, no! Why did we leave that old piece of junk out there?" To them, it was a piece of meaningless clutter that spoiled the picture. To me, it adds interest and atmosphere.

I also have:

Both my grandfathers' pocket watches. I don't know why I was the favored grandchild to receive these. I have lots of cousins on both sides. But my parents said that both grandfathers wanted their watches to go to me. I was very young when they died.

My father's pocket watch. He worked for a railroad. He didn't work on the trains, though; he was a janitor in the office building, and didn't need an expensive watch. But he wanted to have the same type of watch that the conductors used, so that's what he bought.

My father's straight razor and his leather strop.

A rather plain glass "coal-oil" (kerosene) lamp from my grandparents' farmhouse. They never had electricity.

About 15 quilts made by my mother. More than I can use, actually. Some are so old and tattered that my mother was using them as mattress pads, underneath the fitted sheet! I acquired most of these recently when my mother moved to a nursing home. I suppose I'll give some to relatives.

Several crocheted doilies, runners, etc. that my mother made. I'd love to put them on display, but we have cats, and I'm afraid the cats would shred them. Maybe I'll put them under glass somewhere.

Some ancient relative of mine—I haven't yet figured out how he's related to me—was a Confederate soldier, and I have his discharge certificate from when he was released from a Union prisoner-of-war camp.

A couple of sad irons. (Why did they call them that?)

A hickory cane which my father made for my grandfather. He made it by finding a hickory stump that had some sprouts growing from it, bending one of the sprouts, tying it down, and leaving it growing that way for a year to give the handle the proper curve.

A pencil holder made from a block of cedar wood, which I made in Cub Scouts and gave to my Dad. It has some pictures and an inscription, "To Dad from Jimmy," made with a wood-burning pen.

A couple of very sturdy wooden "waiting room" chairs that came from the office building where my father worked. My father probably acquired them when the railroad discarded them, or sold them cheap, when they switched to upholstered chairs. It's the only furniture from my parents' house that I bothered to save. (Do you think I should have saved the "blonde" bedroom set from the 1950's?)

Three sets of sugar bowls and creamers made of glass. One of these is, I think, "depression glass" and one is "carnival glass," and one is sturdier and (I think) older. I'll have to ask my mother about the history of these items before it's too late. Also, a pair of depression-glass salt and pepper shakers. And a fancy silver-plated "sugar shell" (spoon for the sugar bowl).