The story you tell beautifully here is one we've all lived. Curiously, it's not always weird odds and sods that inspire these dilemmas. While tidying the storage room last week, I found a pair of classically elegant brass candlesticks that used to sit on the Maynard family table. Nobody wants brass candlesticks anymore.
Yes, Rona, this is exactly right. It's also been true of silver flatware and "brown furniture," though I hear the latter is making a comeback. One of my brothers bemoans getting rid of his LPs, never dreaming they'd eventually return to popularity. Maybe the trick is to hang onto some of this stuff even longer? š
Thanks for reading, and I so appreciate the restack, too.
I'll be laughing all day at one of the lines from your wonderful article...."What if we need them someday"...... Our "stuff" everywhere still encircles our daily lives ...and forces me to ask that question every day....
The historian (a form of storytelling, yes?) in me is glad to have access to the past in certain keepsakes, whether they are truly needed or not. Old nail brushes not so much. Thanks for enjoying a little vicarious decluttering with me, Barry.
"Was the broken folding chair being saved for someone she hoped would stop visiting?" my next thought would be, "Hmmm....who?!" I think your writing perfectly reflects how each of us think, rationalize, organize the detritus of our lives.
Allow the reminisce? When I left Colorado I was 47 and did a crazy cleanout due to circumstance; now some of those things I wish I had been able to keep. So just remember you and the hub have a couple more decades+ to admire things that may only mean something to you, but they do. Words of completely unsolicited advice, sorry, AND that means that you struck a chord. ~J
There are a few folks in my life who are not interested in holding onto much of anything--my mother-in-law among them. It seems Jim and I make up for her!
Thank you for the words of wisdom, Janice, and the cautionary tale. I'm sorry for the circumstances that prompted your Colorado purge. I think decluttering of that magnitude is unlikely here, given who Jim and I are. We pared down astonishingly well when we moved aboard all those years ago, but that belies the fact that we still had stuff stored in our parents' houses back then.
Appreciate knowing that this hit a note of familiarity for you. š
I fall somewhere in between minimalist and maximalist. I don't hang onto a lot of things, but the ones I keep are probably with me for life. My husband, on the other hand ... Never mind that we don't camp anymore, and a nephew would be happy to have the equipment. You never know when we might decide to take up camping again, right? (Never.)
Strings and strings of outdoor Christmas lights that he wouldn't let me give to someone who might actually put them up. This year, I told him if we kept them, he had to put them up - and he did. (I like Christmas lights, so I admit this felt like a small victory.) I could go on, but you get the idea. Thanks for the opportunity to vent a little.
Sweet! What's his number? We have a couple of camping mattresses we'd love to pass along. š
You and your husband are balanced in the way my in-laws were. Keeping stuff was his superpower when he was still alive, and my MIL, to this day, is inclined in the opposite direction.
I'm glad you got your Christmas lights. That's a sweet silver lining.
Thanks so much for sharing this part of your world with me, Linda. So good to know who I can call in for moral support when I need to light a fire under a pile of accumulated crap! Oh, and feel free to vent any time you need it.
Good for you! Cleaning AND sharing. I started thinking of a few examples and in about 5 minutes of reflection I came up with more than I have space to write. But the top two are these: a rug from my mom's grandmother's cottage on Lake George - still in use; every camera my father and I have ever owned, safely stored in his Navy trunk from 1943. Yup. You never know when film cameras will be back...
I opted to omit a detail in the essay, that being that the camcorder shares a camera bag with my Nikon FE, which I'm not prepared to part company with. So, I just left the video-maker in there to keep it company.
And it's good that rugs don't speak the same language we do; they'd have some stories to tell, for sure!
Sigh. This resonates way too much. I did make some excellent progress in the quiet month over Christmas then it all grinds to a halt once āworkā kicks back in. Iām retired! Life is supposed to be quiet and simple! But no, I volunteer. And thereās not a spare moment to be found. This too shall pass. Iād much rather be busy than bored. (I donāt think Iāve ever been bored in my life. Itās simply not in my nature.)
But thank you for the reminder to try to get back to it. Decluttering can be a joyous experience.
The time I devote to cleaning and sorting is never on par with the time I make for other projects (she says, as she writes, and writes, and writes). I think I'd do more of it were it not for my many obligations, including working full time, but who knows. Maybe I'm actually best at finding other ways to occupy myself, even though the thrill of a freshly organized space is hard to beat.
Thank you for sharing this, Beth. I love knowing a bit more about what makes you tick.
I admire that you are doing this, even starting to do it. And your children will one day thank you, yes. It is such a complicated process for some of us, and I think it really interesting to ponder how our individual stories are wrapped up in how we each stand looking at the next shelf or drawer of things.
Well, in all honesty, my children may wonder what we actually accomplished, given that there's still going to be a lot of stuff they'll have no reason to care about. Maybe it will ease my conscience a little. Have you ever come across the book Material World: A Global Family Portrait? It's a fascinating gallery of the human condition, telling a powerful story of its own. Thanks for your part in my story, Amy.
āRight?āDue to familiarity, I kept laughing more each time, which is why I listened to it seven times . Oh thank you for the comic lift, and for lightening my load of existential dread! āRight?ā
PS I live in my motherās house. She lives just a few miles away, but this is her stuff Iām going through (with her). What could possibly go wrong?
Omigosh, Kathleen (Heather?), what a great comment! Not only are you totally picking up what Iām putting down (and possibly throwing it away?), Iāve got a reader-fan listening on repeat. Doesnāt get better than that. Thank you. The burning question for me is: Does you mom know and approve of your process with her stuff? Also, burning. Iām am absolutely not suggesting that you do anything rash, but bonfires can be soā¦fulfilling, donāt you think?
Really appreciate the generosity and lightness of being here. May the odds be ever in your favor. ā
This was a treat to read, Elizabeth! And of course it strikes a chord in me, as in so many others. I've been working on a set of useful notes for the nephew who'll be the executor of my estate someday; now that the legal docs are all in order I want to leave him notes about what bills he'll need to settle and who he'll need to call, and ... what to do with the stuff in the cupboards. Mercifully I've lived most of my adult life in one studio apartment or another, but it's truly amazing how many cupboards some early-20th-century architect managed to build in to this studio, and what-all I've found to fill them! At this point I'm mostly identifying items I inherited myself from family members (just so he knows, not because he's obliged to keep them). The bankers' boxes full of journals? That's another discussion. I can't for the life of me throw them away myself, but I really think he should. š
This is such a great comment, Elizabeth! Having lived in some pretty small spaces, I'm convinced they are magical when it comes to the ability to house our stuff. Like Mary Poppins carpet bag. You are smart to be making notes for your nephew now, while you're still fully capable of it. So many of us wait for "someday."
Those journals. My mother threw hers away before she died, and I was so sorry to hear it.
Thank you for taking time to read and comment. Much appreciated.
You will laugh, but I've been meaning to comment on your wonderful essay for almost a week. Why didn't ? Because I kept losing it in the jumble (clutter? welter? accumulation? hoard?) of tabs on my laptop.
I have SUCH a hard time getting rid of stuffāthe pair of jeans I might someday wear, the blazer that might one day come back in fashion, the cheap costume jewelry my grandmother had and never wore and now I have it and don't wear it. And dear god, the spices.
Your piece inspires me to find a small, manageable corner to clean (mind you, I haven't done it yet, but I *want* to). Also the memory of helping a friend clean out her parents' house with 50 years worth of accumulated... everything and how horrifically much there was to go through. You and your husband are my heroes/role models!
I am laughing, but not because there's any comment protocol or timeline you need to follow. What's a week to a work of art?
HAHAHA - I crack myself up.
I worry that this essay made it seem as though I've freed myself from the someday clothes and the costume jewelry. Alas, no. But I'm still taking credit for what we've managed to haul into the light of day and move toward removal. ::tiny cheer:: Not sure our kids would notice any difference, should the need arise, but at least now I have it in writing.
Hugs and thanks, Irena, for your steady presence and good spirits.
I think of these issues every time I visit my parents now, knowing that they are not going to do much clearing out--and there is (to me) so much stuff. It will all fall to me. I had to clear out a file cabinet of my own this weekend, and I didn't know what to do with an envelope I was given when my grandmother died. In it was every piece of correspondence I sent to my grandparents, starting in first grade. Who would want this? I asked my kids if they might one day; one said no, one said maybe a few things. Can I trust them, in their twenties, to know what they might want later? If they never know of its existence, there is nothing to miss, right? You've raised not just good ecological questions, but existential ones, as well. Lemon pepper is so rarely just lemon pepper.
That particular duty seems to fall to women with remarkable consistency, but I have to give credit to one of my brothers. He lived close to our parents and his in-laws and willingly took responsibility for managing the moves and clean-outs. Herculean. Any chance your folks would work on it with you now? Don't answer that. š¬
Not sure if you're wired this way or not, but taking pictures often helps me part with a special physical item more easily. At least I have *something* to keep.
Your last line is spot on. And I don't even like lemon pepper! Thank you, Rita, for reading and commenting.
The story you tell beautifully here is one we've all lived. Curiously, it's not always weird odds and sods that inspire these dilemmas. While tidying the storage room last week, I found a pair of classically elegant brass candlesticks that used to sit on the Maynard family table. Nobody wants brass candlesticks anymore.
Yes, Rona, this is exactly right. It's also been true of silver flatware and "brown furniture," though I hear the latter is making a comeback. One of my brothers bemoans getting rid of his LPs, never dreaming they'd eventually return to popularity. Maybe the trick is to hang onto some of this stuff even longer? š
Thanks for reading, and I so appreciate the restack, too.
I'll be laughing all day at one of the lines from your wonderful article...."What if we need them someday"...... Our "stuff" everywhere still encircles our daily lives ...and forces me to ask that question every day....
The historian (a form of storytelling, yes?) in me is glad to have access to the past in certain keepsakes, whether they are truly needed or not. Old nail brushes not so much. Thanks for enjoying a little vicarious decluttering with me, Barry.
"Was the broken folding chair being saved for someone she hoped would stop visiting?" my next thought would be, "Hmmm....who?!" I think your writing perfectly reflects how each of us think, rationalize, organize the detritus of our lives.
Allow the reminisce? When I left Colorado I was 47 and did a crazy cleanout due to circumstance; now some of those things I wish I had been able to keep. So just remember you and the hub have a couple more decades+ to admire things that may only mean something to you, but they do. Words of completely unsolicited advice, sorry, AND that means that you struck a chord. ~J
There are a few folks in my life who are not interested in holding onto much of anything--my mother-in-law among them. It seems Jim and I make up for her!
Thank you for the words of wisdom, Janice, and the cautionary tale. I'm sorry for the circumstances that prompted your Colorado purge. I think decluttering of that magnitude is unlikely here, given who Jim and I are. We pared down astonishingly well when we moved aboard all those years ago, but that belies the fact that we still had stuff stored in our parents' houses back then.
Appreciate knowing that this hit a note of familiarity for you. š
I fall somewhere in between minimalist and maximalist. I don't hang onto a lot of things, but the ones I keep are probably with me for life. My husband, on the other hand ... Never mind that we don't camp anymore, and a nephew would be happy to have the equipment. You never know when we might decide to take up camping again, right? (Never.)
Strings and strings of outdoor Christmas lights that he wouldn't let me give to someone who might actually put them up. This year, I told him if we kept them, he had to put them up - and he did. (I like Christmas lights, so I admit this felt like a small victory.) I could go on, but you get the idea. Thanks for the opportunity to vent a little.
Sweet! What's his number? We have a couple of camping mattresses we'd love to pass along. š
You and your husband are balanced in the way my in-laws were. Keeping stuff was his superpower when he was still alive, and my MIL, to this day, is inclined in the opposite direction.
I'm glad you got your Christmas lights. That's a sweet silver lining.
Thanks so much for sharing this part of your world with me, Linda. So good to know who I can call in for moral support when I need to light a fire under a pile of accumulated crap! Oh, and feel free to vent any time you need it.
Good for you! Cleaning AND sharing. I started thinking of a few examples and in about 5 minutes of reflection I came up with more than I have space to write. But the top two are these: a rug from my mom's grandmother's cottage on Lake George - still in use; every camera my father and I have ever owned, safely stored in his Navy trunk from 1943. Yup. You never know when film cameras will be back...
::steps around the proverbial pile of examples::
I opted to omit a detail in the essay, that being that the camcorder shares a camera bag with my Nikon FE, which I'm not prepared to part company with. So, I just left the video-maker in there to keep it company.
And it's good that rugs don't speak the same language we do; they'd have some stories to tell, for sure!
Thanks, Stew, as always.
Sigh. This resonates way too much. I did make some excellent progress in the quiet month over Christmas then it all grinds to a halt once āworkā kicks back in. Iām retired! Life is supposed to be quiet and simple! But no, I volunteer. And thereās not a spare moment to be found. This too shall pass. Iād much rather be busy than bored. (I donāt think Iāve ever been bored in my life. Itās simply not in my nature.)
But thank you for the reminder to try to get back to it. Decluttering can be a joyous experience.
Another heartfelt read. Thanks so much.
The time I devote to cleaning and sorting is never on par with the time I make for other projects (she says, as she writes, and writes, and writes). I think I'd do more of it were it not for my many obligations, including working full time, but who knows. Maybe I'm actually best at finding other ways to occupy myself, even though the thrill of a freshly organized space is hard to beat.
Thank you for sharing this, Beth. I love knowing a bit more about what makes you tick.
Ditto. āŗļø
I admire that you are doing this, even starting to do it. And your children will one day thank you, yes. It is such a complicated process for some of us, and I think it really interesting to ponder how our individual stories are wrapped up in how we each stand looking at the next shelf or drawer of things.
Well, in all honesty, my children may wonder what we actually accomplished, given that there's still going to be a lot of stuff they'll have no reason to care about. Maybe it will ease my conscience a little. Have you ever come across the book Material World: A Global Family Portrait? It's a fascinating gallery of the human condition, telling a powerful story of its own. Thanks for your part in my story, Amy.
https://www.thriftbooks.com/w/material-world-a-global-family-portrait_charles-c-mann_peter-menzel/249527/item/6487933/?
Nancy would understand that completely š Loved this, Betsy
āŗļø Thanks, Nancy. It's not often I get to call my mother by that beautiful name you both share. Hope you're doing well.
āRight?āDue to familiarity, I kept laughing more each time, which is why I listened to it seven times . Oh thank you for the comic lift, and for lightening my load of existential dread! āRight?ā
PS I live in my motherās house. She lives just a few miles away, but this is her stuff Iām going through (with her). What could possibly go wrong?
Omigosh, Kathleen (Heather?), what a great comment! Not only are you totally picking up what Iām putting down (and possibly throwing it away?), Iāve got a reader-fan listening on repeat. Doesnāt get better than that. Thank you. The burning question for me is: Does you mom know and approve of your process with her stuff? Also, burning. Iām am absolutely not suggesting that you do anything rash, but bonfires can be soā¦fulfilling, donāt you think?
Really appreciate the generosity and lightness of being here. May the odds be ever in your favor. ā
And the last word says it all!
This was a treat to read, Elizabeth! And of course it strikes a chord in me, as in so many others. I've been working on a set of useful notes for the nephew who'll be the executor of my estate someday; now that the legal docs are all in order I want to leave him notes about what bills he'll need to settle and who he'll need to call, and ... what to do with the stuff in the cupboards. Mercifully I've lived most of my adult life in one studio apartment or another, but it's truly amazing how many cupboards some early-20th-century architect managed to build in to this studio, and what-all I've found to fill them! At this point I'm mostly identifying items I inherited myself from family members (just so he knows, not because he's obliged to keep them). The bankers' boxes full of journals? That's another discussion. I can't for the life of me throw them away myself, but I really think he should. š
This is such a great comment, Elizabeth! Having lived in some pretty small spaces, I'm convinced they are magical when it comes to the ability to house our stuff. Like Mary Poppins carpet bag. You are smart to be making notes for your nephew now, while you're still fully capable of it. So many of us wait for "someday."
Those journals. My mother threw hers away before she died, and I was so sorry to hear it.
Thank you for taking time to read and comment. Much appreciated.
You will laugh, but I've been meaning to comment on your wonderful essay for almost a week. Why didn't ? Because I kept losing it in the jumble (clutter? welter? accumulation? hoard?) of tabs on my laptop.
I have SUCH a hard time getting rid of stuffāthe pair of jeans I might someday wear, the blazer that might one day come back in fashion, the cheap costume jewelry my grandmother had and never wore and now I have it and don't wear it. And dear god, the spices.
Your piece inspires me to find a small, manageable corner to clean (mind you, I haven't done it yet, but I *want* to). Also the memory of helping a friend clean out her parents' house with 50 years worth of accumulated... everything and how horrifically much there was to go through. You and your husband are my heroes/role models!
I am laughing, but not because there's any comment protocol or timeline you need to follow. What's a week to a work of art?
HAHAHA - I crack myself up.
I worry that this essay made it seem as though I've freed myself from the someday clothes and the costume jewelry. Alas, no. But I'm still taking credit for what we've managed to haul into the light of day and move toward removal. ::tiny cheer:: Not sure our kids would notice any difference, should the need arise, but at least now I have it in writing.
Hugs and thanks, Irena, for your steady presence and good spirits.
I think of these issues every time I visit my parents now, knowing that they are not going to do much clearing out--and there is (to me) so much stuff. It will all fall to me. I had to clear out a file cabinet of my own this weekend, and I didn't know what to do with an envelope I was given when my grandmother died. In it was every piece of correspondence I sent to my grandparents, starting in first grade. Who would want this? I asked my kids if they might one day; one said no, one said maybe a few things. Can I trust them, in their twenties, to know what they might want later? If they never know of its existence, there is nothing to miss, right? You've raised not just good ecological questions, but existential ones, as well. Lemon pepper is so rarely just lemon pepper.
That particular duty seems to fall to women with remarkable consistency, but I have to give credit to one of my brothers. He lived close to our parents and his in-laws and willingly took responsibility for managing the moves and clean-outs. Herculean. Any chance your folks would work on it with you now? Don't answer that. š¬
Not sure if you're wired this way or not, but taking pictures often helps me part with a special physical item more easily. At least I have *something* to keep.
Your last line is spot on. And I don't even like lemon pepper! Thank you, Rita, for reading and commenting.