Digging for buried treasure

To say I've done lots of cleaning in this house would be an understatement.

My grandmother moved in here in 1937.  My uncle lived here after she died.  In 75 years, no one has ever moved out.  EVER. 

Let's just say my family is good at collecting stuff and leave it at that.

Most people would have looked at the amount of "stuff" in this roughly 1100 square foot house, grabbed some trash bags and a shovel and gone to town.  I'm so very glad I didn't do that.  If I had, I would have missed so many wonderful things.

I've found photographs of family members that I never met.  Many died long before I was born.

My grandfather, Leo, passed away in 1931.  My dad was two years old.  The only photo I'd ever seen of him was my grandparent's wedding portrait. 

Then I found this. 

It was taken on the front porch of their farm house near Cheney.

And these.

My grandparents took my Uncle Leroy on a trip to Pike's Peak in Colorado in 1930.  The other boys weren't in the photos, so I assumed they stayed home because they were too young to travel.  This weekend I found a postcard that my grandparents sent to my dad from this trip!

I've found silly things like the Weebles treehouse that my brother and I played with as kids.  Serious things like my uncle's high school diploma and class ring.  Crazy things like the owners manual for a tractor from the 40's that still sits at the farm, but hasn't run for years.  Sentimental things like the cards from my great-grandparent's 50th wedding anniversary party.  Priceless things like some of our family tree in my grandmother's handwriting.

I wasn't sure what I thought I'd find when I started cleaning out the house. 

I don't think I ever expected it would be my family.