Stuff

On afternoons this summer when it has been too hot and buggy to be out of doors I have been cleaning my house room by room. I tend to be a pile maker. I have a hard time filing things in the right place, especially when I haven’t already made a correctly labeled file. And sometimes it takes me more time than it should to decide what deserves saving and what deserves chucking.

Maybe that’s because I can hold on to something for what seems like forever, finally decide to get rid of it and then all the sudden that “thing” is the one thing I wish I had saved.

Anyway, I finally took all the piles out of the office and dumped them on the living room floor where I could sort them out. I separated them into smarter piles and recycled about 80%. You should see the countertops in my office! Actually, you CAN see the counter tops now! Success. After I write today I will finish the job by tending to the file drawer with the same scrutiny.

Yet there are still, in the bottom of the basket I am labeling “memorabilia,” refrigerator magnets from Lenexa and before, photographs, some birthday cards, and little things that my kids will have to go through some day. Of course, this is not the only receptacle for such things.

The closet in the guest room became my next great task. I had already made a pile of hanging clothes on the bed when I cleaned the carpet last week. I must tell you that all this started because, a. my new living room furniture was being delivered, b. I figured out how to fix my carpet shampooer and, c. E. and Li were coming and they would need space in both the office and the closet.

The pile of clothes was a ridiculous mash up of saved stuff. Some of Elizabeth’s old prom dresses, my wedding dress, (which I would need to lose at least fifteen pounds to even begin to get into again!) a witch’s cape (how long ago did I make that?) and some old clothes of mine that I “might” wear again. Of course, there are Jim’s suits and summer shirts and a few rugby jerseys.

My clothes were easy. I chucked 90%. 5% I moved into my closet and 5% I put back into the closet for the next weening. An old suit of Sean’s from 20 years ago went into the bag with my stuff. E’s and Jim’s went back into the closet. Mostly. Why? I will not wear a size 42-long men’s suit! I cannot wear a size 6 prom dress! And the jerseys? I can’t let them go into a bag and be worn by people who don’t know who the AC Vet’s are, or Old Bangkok Bangers, or Bustards, or UNL Rugby, or, or, or. That would be criminal.

Note: There are a few jerseys in that closet, more in my closet, more in tubs in the basement, some framed hanging around my house, some worn to shreds, some barely worn. Jim could tell you the origin of each one and where he wore them. And he wore them, all of them, from long sleeved heavy cotton to lightweight polyester. All with the colors and the logo of the team he was either on or traded for or was gifted.

He would take extra jerseys to overseas matches so he had a trade in hand. Most of the guys did. And don’t get me started on posters, photos, mugs, t-shirts, pins, caps, backpacks, cozies… Help! (Mad Dog, I’m looking at you!) <3

Each item had a memory for him, a place, a time, a story. Most of the time a very good story and a very special place in his big sentimental heart!

But in the end, it’s just stuff now. He’s gone. His stories are gone. If I don’t deal with them someday my kids will have to. Are these things artifacts or are they burdens? Are these my memories as well as his after living with them for so long? If I get rid of his things do I lighten my children’s load? Do I spare them the anguish of getting rid of them or do I prevent them from appreciating his things while they have the chance? After all, by the time they are faced with these challenges they will also have the burden of my things to deal with!

Things are such interesting things. They represent the collected stories of our lives. Our memories to us in the present, but what of the future? Our children will have their own things, their own memories! They will sort out and keep the things that are meaningful to them and that might not have anything to do with our memories or what we would have saved for them.

I put photos of a few jerseys on Facebook the other night. Some great discussion ensued. So, a few of them are finding a new home with a fellow rugger who played with Jim and also has an association with them. That’s perfect. I will continue to put more out there, but I think I will ask for a Jimmy story as payment from now on. That sounds fair. Doesn’t it?

I think it does.