Heather Marie Wells

  When people find out my degree is in Museum Studies and I work at a museum, I’m constantly being asked questions like: “What things do I need to look out for in order to protect my keepsakes?”  “What’s the worst thing that could happen to my great-grandmother’s wedding dress?” “So my photos are just thrown into a cardboard box, that’s probably not the best thing, right” “I could never afford to properly store my grandfather’s Bible, could I?” The majority of my answers revolve around four things that can endanger your treasures so, I’ve created a little guide on those things and solutions you can start implementing today to help mitigate them. I’ve made it in a worksheet form to really help you think through changes you might need to make. But I also wanted to share a fifth thing for you to be aware of just in this blog post and that’s how materials can interact with each other. The more complex an object is as far as the materials that it is made up of the more complex it can be to

  I’m often asked, “But what should I DO with my family heirloom?”  My response is always, “What do you want to do with it?” At this point people are often taken aback. I think they assume I’m going to tell them to lock it away in storage and never use it again for fear of breaking or damaging it. In some cases, that may be what might be best for the object. You have to consider the condition its in and what your goals are for it. If it is a book in poor condition, but you are hoping your great-grandchildren will get to see it. Then, yes, probably the best thing to do is stabilize it and store it, taking it out occasionally to check on the condition, but to try to manipulate it as little as possible.  Other objects don’t necessarily need to be treated so delicately. For instance, something I chose that belonged to my maternal grandmother was soup bowls. There were only two of them and they aren’t valuable. They're Anchor Hocking from the 1970s. They were her everyday dishes. So why

If there is one thing I could tell my younger self, it would be to label things. Sometimes not having a label is a blessing and sometimes it's a curse.  There have been mementos from my childhood that I kept for some reason and rediscovered them 20 years later. I look at them and I think, “What is this? Why did I keep this? What did it mean to me?” There’s no label and if I can’t remember what it was I usually get rid of it. These things are usually some kind of ephemeral thing that is easy to let go of. In these cases, not having a label can sometimes make it easier to let them go. And just as often, I also find labeled things of this nature and decide it’s time to let go of them since they don’t hold as much meaning to me as they once did. However, the vast majority of time I regret that I didn’t label something. There are things I find that I end up racking my brain trying to remember what they are and why I kept them; I agonize over it for days, sometimes weeks. Even worse thou