What you hang on to

I am a keen believer in tossing out kipple so I don’t have a lot of keepsakes hanging around in drawers, boxes and closets or collecting dust on shelves. I think that makes looking back at my historical record a revealing exercise. The things I own, I’ve made an effort to keep.
In a box in my parents’ attic, there is a tiny silver bird figurine that was a gift from a college comrade. Some photos & the complete series of The Wizard of Oz. That single box contains other things from my childhood but except for the above listed, the rest is forgotten, its meaning lost, and could be thrown away now. So of my first twenty years, I had one significant friend and some reading material.
Having recently pared down my stuff in storage, I pitched out the old love letters, the awards and commendations from jobs long past, and souvenirs of forgotten events. Now I have little more than family photos and my drawings, paintings and prints. I nearly tossed the art, but Tod stopped me and I’m glad he did. That art’s not just a relic, it’s the true record of me.
The past six years have produced four significant items. Ganesha, overcomer of obstacles, found me in Bangkok. I have a rock from Ireland with a hole worn through it–perfect for focussing on things. A bit of lava I picked up while climbing Mt. Fuji reminds me of what I can do if I try. And a shell Tod found in Hawaii reminds me of beauty, warmth, and love.
Not everything I keep is good or uplifting. I have a disturbing ability to hang on to horrible e-mails: an exchange with someone I apologised to who then demanded an accounting of my actions; a correspondence that was a huge misunderstanding with a formerly close and now regretably distant friend; a draft (unsent) of a frustrated and angry message to a colleague. Why do I keep that stuff? Maybe to remind me of my failings…
What do you hang onto?