Why do inanimate objects have a hold on me? I do not understand it. Why would a worn brown chair waiting on the sidewalk for the garbage truck cause a four-year-old girl to cry? It is a memory that lingers in the recesses of my mind. My mind’s eye can still see that chair put at the curbside in Queens by my parents many years ago. Why was it there when it belonged in our living room? That vision sabotages my efforts to organize closets and rooms to this day. My family throws up their hands at my inability to throw out anything!
Is it hereditary? In my own defense I must say I am not like my grandfather. He would salvage other people’s trash. “This is still good, why would they throw this out?” I can still hear him telling my grandmother, much to her dismay. He would then proceed to fill her closets with other people’s junk!
I only want to keep the items that have a special meaning to me. My mother keeps some items of sentimental value. I think some is the key word here. I must work hard at limiting what I save. There is after all a finite amount of space under one roof. I do not want to pick my steps, looking for floor space to walk on like the sorry stars of Hoarders.
I fear I may have passed this trait on to my daughter. I think it is in the genes. I have tried to keep my problems with getting rid of things from my daughter. I do not want her to suffer the inner conflicts I do every time I throw out things that are no longer useful. No longer useful— I feel guilty even saying it. Nothing is ever truly useless. It is an insult. So what if it is an inanimate object. It still feels wrong to me to call it useless.
Sure, I could make doll clothes out of those old baby outfits. But will I? Most likely they will sit in a bag, in the back of the closet taking up space. I should give them away… let some one else wear them… let them be put to good use. There! I feel better already, after all, wasn’t it the feeling of deeming something useless that was at the core of my problem?
Yes, but that was only part of it. I also feel like I am parting with memories. Somehow, I feel that if I hold on to the tangible item, it will preserve the memory. I know this is not logical, but it is the truth, and probably the thought that is at the root of it all.
I’ve always been conscious of time passing by too quickly. I try to savor each moment— to hold on to it. By saving things, I feel a certain level of control over time itself. Foolish or not, it gives me a sense of security.
Time is not slipping through my fingers if I can still hold on to my baby daughter’s blanket— if not my baby daughter. I can still wear my grandmother’s pin—if not hold my grandmother’s hand. I can share a trinket from my childhood with my daughter, and share my past using something that can be handled physically.
My daughter can feel the smoothness of a rock I retrieved from the beach as a child. She can marvel at an alligator letter-holder my grandmother had bought for me in Florida when I was a kid. My daughter can touch my childhood in a way she could never touch it through a conversation. Maybe one day it will be my grandchild who can place a hand on my youth.
So, as I retrieve an old comforter set from the curb, that my daughter has begged me not to let the garbage men take, I feel good. Maybe I have taught my daughter an important lesson. In this throw-away society, we don’t have to throw everything away.
Diana Erbio is a freelance writer and author of “Coming to America: A Girl Struggles to Find her Way in a New World”. Please consider subscribing to her Substack where you’ll find essays, her series Statues: The People They Salute The Table of Contents and the Facebook Page and more 😊🤓🇺🇸
Because they mean something to you. I am 72 years old and just emptied a storage unit full of 72 years of "keeping" that which I thought meant something to me. When my significant other passed away seven years ago, I thought I wanted to keep his recliner. Nope, but I do have pictures of him napping in it with our dog. Still makes my heart smile and always will. I am now getting rid of more stuff that I don't use. My closet is the biggest challenge. The clothes are still good so they will be donated. Three pairs of jeans and a couple of shirts suffice for my retirement years with a couple of good pairs of shoes. We can get by on much less than we think we can. Think of those who follow you and the job they will have going through your stuff. That kind of mindset helps me every time.