The other day, an article caught my eye as I scrolled through Facebook. It was from the May 4, 2018 edition of Forbes, entitled Your Top Ten Objects Your Kids Don't Want. Naturally, having maintained a massive storage unit full of items from my kidsā childhoods that Iāve been certain they DID want, the article caught my eye. As I started reading, it became readily apparent that the author of the article had been roaming through my storage unit while writing the articleāor at least, has children whose idea of āfascinating family antiquesā was pretty similar to those of my own grown children.
The quote from the first paragraph was my first clue. āYour house, and what it contains, is a minefield in the eyes of your grown children. They can see from your example that collections of stuff are a curse; such objects are superfluous to a life well lived. They want a clean, clear field in which to live their lives. Your grown children will not agree to be the recipients of your downsizing if it means their upsizing.ā
That resonated. It hurt a little, but it resonated. Iāve noticed that my grown children, and those of my friends, seem to value a simpler aesthetic than mine. They appreciate a more minimalist approach, valuing simplicity, sustainability, and less material āweightā in their lives. Theyāve taught me a great deal about conservation, environmentalism, and efficiency, all of which I have learned to embrace and even try to incorporate into my own life. Iām late to the party, for sure, but Iāve dropped in.
So back to the article. Scanning down, a first category caught my eye. āPaper Ephemera.ā I liked the name, wasnāt sure what it was, but was pretty sure that I would find myself a top offender in this category. Sure enough; paper ephemera includes things like old photos, certificates, greeting cards, movie tickets, invitations, report cards, old school masterpieces created by my childrenāthe very items that I have lovingly saved and toted throughout the last three decades of my life. Paper Ephemera. So what the hell is a mom supposed to do with her paper ephemera? Like most of us, Iāve scanned a freakinā terabyte of photos, made albums galore, and even advanced to photo books in recent years (Iām that good). Still, the paper ephemera stares me in the eye like a puppy in an SPCA commercial. Am I supposed to throw out all those memories? Shred them? I get that I can digitalize every single one but the idea of throwing my sweet babiesā photos and honor roll certificates in the trash makes me kinda sick. Iām imagining a seagull in a landfill somewhere sitting on top of my sonās T-Ball certificate and dying a little inside.
So I didnāt make much progress toward mental minimalism there and my mountain of paper ephemera survived the purge. Next on the list in the article came things like silver plated serving pieces (the author says that adults today wonāt polish them), sterling silver flatware (ditt0, unless itās from Tiffany or Cartier), and fine china (kids today donāt dine formally the way our mothers and grandmothers did). So, yup, Iāve got all of that too, waiting lovingly to pass along to my children. Happily, though, unlike the paper ephemera, I DO use (and polish) my silver and china; although it apparently makes me a dinosaur, I do like to set a formal table on holidays and special occasions. If the kids donāt want that after Iām gone, at least I will have enjoyed it.
Next on the chopping block of my heart? Old, dark, antique furniture, steamer trunks, sewing machines, and figurines. Guilty. All of it. Iāve kept my grandmotherās antique table even though itās broken into pieces and needs to be restored practically from the ground up. Same with the old chairs to match and countless other pieces I was sure someone would want someday.
As for the figurines, Iāve never been a collector of statues, like Hummels or Precious Moments. However, I have lovingly saved my rather extensive collection of Madame Alexander dolls that I adored playing with when I was little. I didnāt save them as collectible dolls because I played with mine and they are well-loved. I dream that one day, I will have a granddaughter who will love dolls and will be thrilled for Nana to break out her Scarlett OāHara doll and Sleeping Beauty, Jo from Little Women, and an assortment of baby dolls for her to play with. No matter that my husband thinks that theyāre creepy and calls them my āChuckie Dollsā because their eyes open up and stare at him when we open the box. Theyāre staying.
The bottom line is that some of these memories still bring joy today. Theyāre still part of my life. Some of the rest of it is ephemera in the true sense of the word (although not of the paper variety). It just brings back memories, some happy, some not so happy. For me, some of the memory is just honoring the legacy of the many people who ate at those tables, used that steamer trunk when they traveled and for their treasures, and all the women who polished that silver before I did. That means something to me. Sometimes when I look in an old steamer trunk, I can almost feel the memories that are held within and that means something to me too.
The idea of the article, however, is that the cherished nostalgia of the past does not necessarily translate into the future. I think thereās truth to that. There comes a time when a garage or storage unit expensively holding space for the memories of the past no longer makes sense. Maybe itās when someone spells out (thanks, Forbes) WHY it no longer makes sense. One really important reason is because the idea that future generations will prize our treasures is perhaps not as true as it was in the past. Maybe theyāll be much more discriminating about what they save. Maybe theyāll immediately digitize their childrenās masterpieces and recycle the original. Maybe our childrenās schools will one day be fully paperless and there wonāt BE as much paper ephemera to save! Life changes and we must be willing to embrace the new and be able to part with the old when the time is right.
The time was right for me today. I consolidated the photos, kept the most important treasures and masterpieces from my children, and closed my eyes to keep myself from going back through the boxes just one more time to make sure. I kept the pieces of furniture that have happy memories for me and put the ones that donāt at the curb for the inevitable treasure hunters who come by at night to recycle peopleās castoffs. I said a little prayer over them as I set them down that someone would find them, give them a new life with a beautiful coat of paint, and love them as they should be loved. Then my husband took my hand, led me in the house, and shut the garage door, just to make sure I didnāt go back out and drag it all back in again.
I confess; I did go to the front door and take a picture of it, just for posterity. It still hurts a little to think that those pieces wonāt be in my family anymore, but I truly believe the article was right. As heavy and burdensome it has been for me to carry the weight of them through my life, why would I expect my children to assume that weight either now or later? Itās their turn to collect their own treasures and their own memories. Likewise, itās my responsibility to be thoughtful about what I use, what I love, and what more appropriately belongs with someone else. That, I hope, leaves space in my heart, and in my garage, for the life Iām living today.