Stuff that Remembers

“Have you noticed that their stuff is shit and your shit is stuff?”

– George Carlin

I think that most of us are only a few bad days away from being the next feature on an episode of Hoarders. Granted, I come from a family that keeps “stuff.” But I think we all have our hidden piles of it. Some people have it stacked openly on their dining room tables or on the floor in the corner of the basement. Others have it tucked away in drawers, closets or garages. But we all have it: stuff.

Dave and I live in a townhouse. It’s not a tiny place, but it’s not big either. And lately, I’ve been feeling like stuff has been piling up around my ears. I don’t know how many times I’ve said, “I need more closets,” or “what I wouldn’t give to have a garage!” But really, how much stuff do two people need? Apparently a lot.

It doesn’t help that we both have hobbies that involve a lot of equipment. Cycling for one. We have several bikes, bike equipment, bike travel boxes, indoor trainers, outdoor racks, work stands, and tools, tools, tools. My husband is also into photography, computers, hockey, scuba diving and do-it-yourselfing. All activities that require a lot of equipment. I don’t have as many hobbies (and my running shoes don’t take up a lot of room), but I do have a lot of clothes and shoes, I have crafty stuff for when I get inspired and I keep mementos for maybe scrapbooking one day.  We both also love cooking and so we have a lot of kitchen equipment and cookbooks and serving ware from our wedding registry years ago. Oh yeah, and books. Between the two of us, we could open a library.

Add all of that together in a little house with no garage and what does that equal? Stuff.

I have the common difficulty that I often attach sentimental value to my stuff. Maybe it’s an only child, of only children syndrome? But my stuff is important to me. It’s only in the last few years that I’ve really embraced the art of purging and donating our unused stuff. Wow, does it feel good to drive a car full of it to Good Will. But I do tend to hang on to the types of things that one would put in a scrapbook (if you made scrapbooks, which I don’t have time to do). I can’t get rid of photos, ticket stubs, greeting cards, letters, mementos. I have boxes of them. And I’m not really sure what I’ll do with any of it, except, well, just remember.

Recently, I’ve been getting rid of a lot of stuff. Dave and I just did a massive purging of our furnace room – which was easy. It was mostly junk, old paint cans and trash. It’s all gone now and we can reach our laundry machines again. Phew. But we’ve also been going over to my family home on the weekends to help start the process of purging a lifetime of stuff. Some of it is easy, and some of it is painfully difficult.

I found some of my old clothes and at first it’s simple, donate, donate, donate, donate….oh wait, my old prom dress (keep), my old track varsity jacket (keep), donate, donate, oh I remember the dance I wore this to (keep). Yes, I got rid of a lot of stuff, but now I have random plastic boxes of odds and ends that I’m not sure what I’ll ever do with, except, well, just remember.

Then I started going through some drawers and boxes of mementos that I kept from high school and college. Most of it I kept, I just repacked it neatly and protected into plastic containers for storage. Again, I couldn’t handle parting with it, so there it is. At least I got rid of three quarters of the stuff.

I started going through a back corner of junk in a bookshelf. A lot of my mom’s old Real Estate training books, trash, trash, trash, shred, trash….stop.

I found a high school scrap book she put together and all purging halted. I sat down, flipped through the pages, and found prom invitations, funny letters and cards, old pressed flowers, newspaper clippings. All the same types of things that I was just sheepishly packing away from my own youth. It was the story of her young teen life. A story she is no longer here to share with me. A story that I absolutely cherish. Then, also on the shelf, I found a decade’s worth of letters between her and my father. A father who is no longer in my life – but again, a story that she is no longer here to share. It dawned on me that some of this “stuff” is actually really important.

I’m running out of people who can tell me about what my life was like as a child. And so, these “things,” these stuffed animals, drawings, report cards, letters, awards, they tell a story. It gives a chance for me to sit and remember. I wonder if my children will one day pry open one of these plastic boxes and see a window into their mom’s life. I hope so.

I recommend purging now and then, it feels great. It helps you realize what is important and what is not. It is the stuff that makes you stop everything, sit down, and remember, that is worth keeping around. The other stuff, is just stuff. Keep things that will tell the story of you. You never know who will pry open that box someday.