The boomers and Xers who rolled their eyes at their kids playing video games or collecting pokemon cards don’t get to wonder aloud why said children don’t give a shit about their model train set. Arriving on death’s door without achieving even that much self-awareness should get you reincarnated as a broiler chicken.
I’m a woodworker, you see this in woodworking circles. Appreciation for antique furniture often comes with an interest in the craft, and to appeal to that you’ll hear hosts of woodworking shows say things like “And there you have it, a dining table that will last for generations.”
That table is going to the landfill before you stop breathing because you built it to exactly fit the dining room of the house you reverse mortgaged, Robert. Your sister and brothers-in-law all have their own dining room tables already and none of your children will ever own a home. Nobody cares about the real breadboard ends; they always stuck out and looked terrible anyway.
You mentioned photography. I have a lawn and leaf bag full of photographs that belong to my ancestors. I never look at them, because the context I have for them is “a person.” “That’s your aunt Jean!” …okay. I’ve got photo albums of my own early childhood, photos I remember being taken, I don’t look at those either.
But then you’ve got PHOTOGRAPHY photography. The kind of photography where other photographers will complement you on composition and depth of field. If you’re a serious hobby photographer, your family is going to develop a deep antipathy for photography because of what you’ll spend your life doing to them. Your death means never having to hear the lecture on film speeds again, and the opportunity to finally take a hammer to that goddamn Nikon.
The solution is to go get younger friends, people who are actually interested in the things you’ve collected you can pass down their stories to. You’re probably not mentally able to do that because kids these days say “no problem” instead of “you’re welcome” so…yeah your precious mound of shit is going in the garbage.
TBF…high quality furnishings like a dining room table are one of the few things I think people fight over as far as estate goes. Not their 25 piece Precious Moments collection.
The boomers and Xers who rolled their eyes at their kids playing video games or collecting pokemon cards don’t get to wonder aloud why said children don’t give a shit about their model train set. Arriving on death’s door without achieving even that much self-awareness should get you reincarnated as a broiler chicken.
I’m a woodworker, you see this in woodworking circles. Appreciation for antique furniture often comes with an interest in the craft, and to appeal to that you’ll hear hosts of woodworking shows say things like “And there you have it, a dining table that will last for generations.”
That table is going to the landfill before you stop breathing because you built it to exactly fit the dining room of the house you reverse mortgaged, Robert. Your sister and brothers-in-law all have their own dining room tables already and none of your children will ever own a home. Nobody cares about the real breadboard ends; they always stuck out and looked terrible anyway.
You mentioned photography. I have a lawn and leaf bag full of photographs that belong to my ancestors. I never look at them, because the context I have for them is “a person.” “That’s your aunt Jean!” …okay. I’ve got photo albums of my own early childhood, photos I remember being taken, I don’t look at those either.
But then you’ve got PHOTOGRAPHY photography. The kind of photography where other photographers will complement you on composition and depth of field. If you’re a serious hobby photographer, your family is going to develop a deep antipathy for photography because of what you’ll spend your life doing to them. Your death means never having to hear the lecture on film speeds again, and the opportunity to finally take a hammer to that goddamn Nikon.
The solution is to go get younger friends, people who are actually interested in the things you’ve collected you can pass down their stories to. You’re probably not mentally able to do that because kids these days say “no problem” instead of “you’re welcome” so…yeah your precious mound of shit is going in the garbage.
TBF…high quality furnishings like a dining room table are one of the few things I think people fight over as far as estate goes. Not their 25 piece Precious Moments collection.
With home ownership on the decline, families shrinking in number and size, I foresee a sharp decrease in demand for dining sets.
Could be.