OLD STUFF

Years ago, I attended a lecture on a cruise ship. The speaker said that she was starting to downsize, but in the process of getting rid of things, she said that, for her, it was impossible to dispose of photographs. So, she came down into the audience and gave each of us a picture. She said, “Here’s a snapshot of my thumb on the Eifel Tower.” “Here’s one of Chiggers, the cat.” “Here’s one of crazy Uncle Harry.” She continued until she had given everyone in the audience a photograph. Then she said, “I can’t throw them away…YOU DO IT!”

I’m not a packrat, but I have friends who just can’t get rid of anything. I think they feel comfort in clutter. Why does someone who never cooks need five sets of dishes? Wendell Berry said, “Don’t own so much clutter that you will be relieved to see your house catch fire.”

For me, it was a rude awakening when I found one of my former dresses in a Vintage Store. That was a wake-up call. I realized that it’s time to admit that it’s not coming back into style, and unless I am invited to a costume party, it’s time to just let the old garments hanging in my closet go.

With some people, it’s not the unwearable that’s unbearable to toss---it’s paper---piles and piles of paper. Mountains of paper sometimes offer the misconception that you are accomplishing something. Computers notwithstanding, mistrust of technology finds comfort in paper back-ups.

Newspapers and magazines also tend to accumulate when, “I plan to read that article later.” Often “later” turns into never, and that’s when well-meaning relatives “helpfully” toss, while making some old codger miserable. When that happens, there’s the good chance that neatniks will be written out of the will.

It’s probably a good idea to let one’s heirs know what items are of monetary value and which ones are of sentimental value, because even if your daughter hates that painting that’s been in the family for years, she would be well-advised not to let the Picasso become a dart board for the grandkids.

I am genetically attached to my books, as was my Father. When he moved into a senior residence, he said, “ I don’t mind moving---as long as I have my books. My books are my portable homeland.”

There is comfort in the familiar and those things that conjure sweet memories, but certainly those old broken clay pots in the cellar don’t conjure sentimental memories unless you threw them at your third husband.

It’s good to slowly downsize as one gets older, but on the other hand, for those who are left behind to dispose of a loved ones worldly goods, it’s also important to remember that what is left behind is a sacred trust.  Even if it’s a knitted toilet roll cover, it should be disposed of with respect, and love, and care.

Esther Blumenfeld (You should be the boss of your mess.)