A day or so after Wingman passed, and while I still had the boys around, I asked them what if any, of their dad’s things they might like to keep as a memory. Although I knew for certain they wouldn’t want any of his extensive collection of tank tops, I was surprised when they didn’t take anything. Even when I went into his “box” a small chest which held everything from concert stubs to a ribbon-wrapped pile of letters from his first love, they left empty handed. So along with two brand new suits with the tags still attached, all of his clothes went to a friend who worked with men coming out of prison to give them a fresh start. His first love’s letters, while amusing, went in the trash.
Three months later, Superstorm Sandy mercilessly claimed so much more. Sentimental things like all of Wingman’s and my record albums. Beautifully written books. Even things I had no thought of ever getting rid of, like two composition books of sappy high school poetry and copied love song lyrics went in the muddy trash. I will admit now that there were things that went into the storage unit that I should have parted with then, but didn’t. More about that in a bit.
Two years ago during the pandemic, I hosted my first-ever Thanksgiving for just my kids. With my best china and gold-rimmed stemware, I mentioned to my daughter-in-law and son’s GF that this would all be theirs someday when they hosted their own Thanksgivings. Their glazed deer-in-the-headlight looks as they pointed to each other and said “you get it” “no, you take it all” was shocking. What? Who wouldn’t want not only all this gold trimmed stuff but a pheasant soup tureen, gravy dish, creamer and salt and pepper shaker? Obviously, no one sharing my last name.
The Wall Street Journal had an article last year about how this generation of young adults has no interest in the things we've acquired or inherited. When my Mom got her Grandmother's turkey platter-a gift from the woman she was employed as a maid for, my sister and I would grouse for hours over who should get it. To see it now with its' slight crack and chipped edge, barely big enough for today's oven stuffer, my kids would laugh at our quibbling.
With the recent passing of my Mother-In-Law, there was a full household to dispose of, and rather than "inherit" more things I didn't need, I declared that all I wanted was the nativity set I made for her. Then, like Steve Martin in "The Jerk", I took some wine glasses and swore to take nothing else. Cutlery, and no more. Magazines about the World Trade Center attack, but that's it. An expensive painting Wingman bought for his parents one Christmas, even though it was butt-ugly. All in all, a trunk load of stuff that the kids will eventually hate me for.
What went into the storage unit after Sandy? It included a bin of everyone's grade school and high school yearbooks, glued together with river mud and altogether unreadable ever again. I moved them back into the house, then into storage twice more before settling into the townhouse. Just recently, I made the ultimate decision to toss them. As the high school ones are available on the internet, I'm the only one sad to part with the hard copies.
Son #1 put a stop to me giving my hand me down cashmere sweaters and other clothes to his GF because like Wingman before him, he didn't want her "dressing like his mom". Things were too expensive to give to charity, so I found an online site to sell them. And sell I do. Everything from a brand new pair of Valentine's Day boxers to the the dress I wore to son #2's wedding. I've listed an embarrassing total of 174 mostly used things dating back to 2008 (the brand I worked for had season tags in them) including shoes, bags, costume jewelry, tee shirts, dresses and coats. And to think that I use to make fun of Carrie Bradshaw's obsession with shoes and clothes in "Sex and the City." Someone should beat me with my credit cards.
I'd like to say that since I started selling my clothes that I haven't bought any replacements. I'd also like to say that without working out, I have the body of a 25 year old. Both are lies. Just today, a sweater arrived that of course, I didn't need but really liked. I can however, say that the KonMari method of only keeping what speaks to the heart has some merit.
Because it allowed me to make enough money to buy my own computer that speaks back to me as I type. Something that the kids can't complain about and may actually want in the future.
