The prompt from this month that resonated with me the most asks us to reflect on "stuff" versus "treasures," which immediately put me in mind of the phrase "one man's trash is another man's treasure." One of my goals in my Cultivate What Matters planner this year is to declutter at least one drawer or cabinet per week (okay, that's probably too ambitious and will end up being a monthly goal!). While I have a house full of things that have long outlived their usefulness -- did I ever really need a quesadilla maker? -- I also have a hard time parting with some items that are associated with strong memories. As much as I might appreciate the minimalist and/or tiny house movements, I fear that's never going to be completely in the cards for me. Can I cut back? Absolutely. I could probably easily stand to cull my belongings by 50% or more.
Here's an example of an item most people might categorize as junk -- doubtless there are many of these lurking in dusty corners of antique stores or goodwill shops. But it hung above my grandmother's countertop bar, in my line of sight as I ate lunch or slurped on a Fudgesicle treat. It was one of her possessions that I asked to have when she died. My cousin took the harvest gold embroidered butterfly magnet that was on her refrigerator for as long as any of us could remember -- ugly (yes) but a cherished treasure all the same.
And then here's my childhood Jack-in-the-Box toy -- I definitely have memories of playing with it. Does that mean it deserves to stay? Ultimately I don't know, but for now, I'm hanging on to it.
Not only is it my own stuff/treasures that must be parsed through either. I've long been the member of the family on multiple sides most interested in genealogy. I value all the family photos that have been passed down to me for safekeeping (and indeed the originals are in a photo safe), but I also inherited boxes of sentimental items from my great-aunt who died childless, a second cousin who also died childless, the grandparents of my ex-husband. When my parents moved last year, I -- you guessed it -- took several boxes of things that they couldn't realistically store any longer but that none of us could quite bring ourselves to give away. Much of these inherited items don't hold memories for me, but I suppose ultimately it is me that will have to decide what to preserve and keep and what should be given away or thrown out.
I suppose one of the reasons I made decluttering one of my objectives this year is an increasing sense of the march of time and a desire to preserve what is truly valuable. I'd like to be able to say to my children that everything that is left are things that have meaning to me and shouldn't be tossed without thought. At the moment, there is far too much that qualifies as mere "stuff," and I want to make a concerted effort to pare down to possessions that are regularly used and/or are treasures.
Here's the milk-glass candy dish that also belonged to my grandmother and has strong memories for me. But in the absence of notes left to my kids, they would probably have no idea that it is distinguishable from other milk-glass pieces that I picked up while antiquing with their dad in the 1990s. Would they wonder about its placement on the highest shelf and pushed well away from the edge?
Yes, indeed, one man's junk is another man's treasure. Writing this blog has reinvigorated my drive to undertake small chunks of decluttering. Maybe today I'll tackle one of my cabinets! If there are things you treasure, I hope you too will reflect on ways that you might pass along that memory or the sentimental associations to those who might inherit what could easily appear to them as nothing more than disposable "stuff."
I write WWII romance novels. You can find my Clubmobile Girls series on Amazon. You can also learn more about me on my website or follow me on Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, and Pinterest.
