Getting rid of stuff — it’s hard to do

Happy May! Spring is my favorite time of year. The flowers are blooming, I get to plant my garden, my son comes home from college for the summer. All these things just want to make me bring the fresh air into my home and de-clutter. In fact, de-cluttering has become a perpetual occupation for me as I grow older. So many of the things I accumulated over the years have begun to look rather tired. I have squirreled away toys, schoolwork and memorabilia from my children’s younger days. And worse still, when my parents moved out of their house several years ago, they handed me boxes of things left over from when I was younger.

What does one do with that old autograph book from elementary school signed by classmates you lost track of 30 years ago? How many times do you jam it back into a box before you realize that, ultimately, it has no value and you should probably throw it away? I can’t answer that question. So far, it seems this will happen an infinite number of times until something drastic happens to force the issue. Like finally moving, which I’m not ready to do.

Lately, I’ve been taking regular trips to area thrift shops to drop off unwanted items I am ready to part with. You know you’ve kept your stuff too long when Goodwill rejects it.

Last week, I brought over several boxes of clothes, books and household supplies. The man who greeted me at the thrift donation door looked fairly disgusted at some of my contributions. He picked up a handmade lampshade that I’d inherited from my mother. It had cutouts of strawberries, hand painted just above the rim. It also had a slight tear at the top that seemed easily repairable for the right buyer.

The thrift shop worker took it out of the box, eyed it disdainfully, and said “We’re not taking that.” Like I was trying to pass one over on him! Like this was obviously trash and I just didn’t want to put it in my own dumpster!

He continued to poke through my prospective donations and pulled out a boxed set containing an old beading loom that had been mine as a child and then used by my own children. A lovely heirloom that I had finally come to terms with getting rid of.

Again, the worker picked it up and handed it back to me with repugnance.

“We’re not taking that either,” he informed me flatly.

He didn’t explain, but I understood fully: these things that I had held onto for many years were, in fact, so valueless that they were not even good enough for a thrift shop. Even for free, no one wanted them.

What’s worse, I think he was probably right. I tossed the lampshade in the trash when I got

home. But the bead loom? Could I really just throw it away? This piece of my

childhood, and my children’s childhood, tossed callously into the garbage pail?

I studied its cover, and then, filled with nostalgia, I opened the box. Inside I discovered that, in fact,

the bead loom was missing. What I had held onto was a collection of old seed beads and a half-finished sewing project that had been tossed into the box at some point and forgotten about.

For a moment, I examined

the contents, taking in the irrefutable fact that the thrift shop worker’s disgust was well deserved. He was a man who dealt in junk and he knew junk when he saw it!

I, on the other hand, shook out the old sewing project and poked through the beads. Someone might be able to use these beads, I figured.

I still haven’t thrown that box away.