The Significance of Stuff

As parents, we’re often sorting through stuff: our kids’ artwork, school papers, magazine subscriptions, coffee table collections, leftover foods, outdated condiments, too small clothes, old toys, Lego creations, craft supplies, sentimental belongings, and various collections of keepsakes.

My 70-year-old stepmom pointed out that we all go through phases of life in which we accumulate stuff, and then we begin to downsize. It’s natural to gather and then disperse.

While raising kids and grandkids, things tend to accrue.

It’s hard to know what to save and for how long, depending on space and an individual’s clutter tolerance. Sometimes, we ask ourselves what holds more value: financial investments (coin collections) or sentimental items (ceramic handprints). There’s something to be said for hanging onto treasures and yet something refreshing about a clean counter. I believe both approaches are important.

I lost my mom last fall, so as a Mother’s Day gift to myself this year, I read through my “letters to save” file: remembrances that date back more than 20 years. I am glad the papers haven’t been burned (considering California’s fires) or lost in residential moves. The notes I read were funny, wise, heartfelt, and human.

I’d printed out and filed an email interview type questionnaire from my mom, dated 2001. It was our first year apart (I joined the service after high school), and rereading her answers reminded me of her voice, tone, habits, and humor. For example, she said she liked having rubber-band fights with coworker friends at the credit union, and I found out her favorite flower is a sunflower.

Reading the casual interview really resurrected my mom in a way. Suddenly, there she was: just under my bed—within my childhood photo albums! In the closet where I keep my cards. And in my filing cabinet too, who knew?! I didn’t realize we were still playing hide-and-seek.

In the time before people sent electronic snippets, photo captions, quick texts, expectations, and assumptions (the visibility and vulnerability inherent in smartphone use), we mailed individualized letters over email and through the snail mail system. People weren’t so needy for instant acknowledgment then. The longer letters somehow sustained us during periods of intermittent phone calls and holiday cards. That was enough. To keep in touch. And feel loved from afar.

My file of love letters attests to that: thank you, mom, friends, relatives, mentors, and of course, my poetic and romantic young husband. Also, I thank my younger self for the time-capsule gifts.

“I can dream of the old days
Life was beautiful then
I remember the time I knew what happiness was
Let the memory live again”

 (Lyrics from the song “Memory” by Barbra Streisand)

Furthermore, my grandma assembled a scrapbook of letters I sent to her over the years: from Michigan to Florida. Since she’s now 93, she gave it to me. The mixed-media artifact comes complete with old pictures and crayon drawings, too.  On a coloring book page of an Easter Bunny, my grandma wrote, “much improved!” It’s a testament to our correspondence, and I know my mom encouraged me to write to her.

I don’t usually regret saving sentiments like these, except maybe when it comes to moving or fire evacuations. This is the phase of life I’m in: looking back and forward.

However, I had the overwhelming responsibility of sorting through my mom’s personal effects this summer. Sure, there was a lot to savor (handwritten recipes), but there were also closets of clothes to disperse. She was not a minimalist; she was a devoted gift giver. Therefore, I considered what remains important, for whom, and why? So, I made piles of remembrances for people, including my brother: I feel like this approach honors her connections with friends and family. It also reconnected me to her. But at times, the process felt daunting: so many pictures from so many eras! Still, I’m glad my mom kept most of our mementoes.

“Time stutters and reverses and it is always yesterday and today. Maybe the greatest miracle is memory” (Brian Doyle, One Long River of Song, page 239).

Almost everyone has some type of system for organizing and storing (electronic and physical) souvenirs. One strategy, suggested by author Marie Kondo, is to ask oneself if the categorized item “sparks joy.”

I think it’s wise to evaluate whether our stuff is still useful, and if not, who could use it. It takes effort to maintain a practical and thoughtful balance of belongings during each family’s life cycle. At every age, I suppose we should question what is meaningful and worth keeping versus what could be passed down for other people to appreciate.