I have my late grandmother's 60+ year-old typewriter. It's a small manual that works with a ribbon where you have to hit the keys very hard. She used it for work after my grandfather passed, which was before I was born. This was back in the days before auto-correct and even liquid paper, where if you made a typo you had to start all over again, and my grandmother was a fast and immaculate typist, even well into her 80's. Even though the typewriter still works, I won't use it. But I treasure the connection I have with her, because being a typist (okay, the more recent term, "word processor" ) was my bread-and-butter for many years.
A hand-towel from my grand-mother that she painted.
Hiddenite ring from the first ever find of this stone in North America, which was on my great great uncle's farm in Alexandria County, NC. Most Hiddenite comes from Brazil.
I have my dad's pocket knife which he carried daily throughout my childhood. It's worn and in need of sharpening but I still keep it and I think of him whenever I see it or use it.
A 'Can Do' personality that my mother gave me. It is and has been valuable.