What to save when an older relative passes away? And what do the items left behind tell about that person? These were questions put to me by a friend packing the memorabilia of a rather enigmatic departed one.

When my father died in Riverside, California, where I grew up, I asked my daughter, who lives in San Diego, if she would pack up his things, selectively. She generously consented to do so, and thereby saved me emotionally wrenching decisions in the immediate wake of his passing. I have many thoughts and memories of my father, who was the kind of guy you could always count on. But I doubt if I could have inferred that, or much of anything, from his artifacts alone. (Well, I could have inferred one thing: he had an eye for beautiful women. He had photos of the best looking women at the retirement home — staff, not other oldsters.)

A person I knew in DC was successful in business and in politics, and kept a careful record of all his accomplishments. He commented one day about the death of his grandfather, a prominent civic leader. All the awards and trophies, all the photos with notables, ended up in boxes on the sidewalk, waiting to be carted away.

I got interested in antiques several years ago, including small items to fill empty spots in large apartment I had just moved into. So I started going to estate sales. I found it strange, and questionable, to pilfer, as it were, the embodied memories of someone who has left them behind. One was a retired school teacher who had traveled widely in her later years. I picked up several things, including a little figure acquired in Turkey, of a famous sage who sits on a donkey, facing backwards, teaching his pupils who follow behind. Reflecting on it, I decided, no this is not ghoulish. She would be happy that things that meant something to her had found an appreciative home.

These random thoughts may not come to much. But there is something you might call “life-wisdom,” and it is acquired, in part, through ruminations wandering aimlessly.