The acquisitions of a fortunate life have amassed over the years. All must be culled while I have the wherewithal | Paul Daley
I have an urgent desire to get rid of my possessions and personal property.
The acquisitions of a happy life have piled up like an overflowing inbox and simply need to be dealt with in my lifetime, not left for my children to argue over when they are (hopefully, long later) grieving.
Books and magazines. Especially books and magazines! CD. Clothes. Piles of electronic waste. Rarely used kitchen utensil drawers. Pens! How many pens does a household need?! Then there’s my non-digital archive – dozens of notebooks, clipped articles, notes and research material spanning nearly 40 years of journalism and the authorship of 10 books. We must eliminate everything while I have the means.
My parents, who were in their 80s when they could no longer live as independently, were uprooted from a family home that was not only falling apart around them, but was also filled with stuff.
Every closet and drawer in every room was full. I remember the house was already overflowing with stuff when my mother and father were in their 70s and an older aunt died…and left everything to my father. He seemed to take it all. Think bad ceramic figurines and other knick-knacks, dozens of dish towels, placemats (which I have a visceral aversion to), appliances and old televisions (straight into the double garage to go with the kitchen cabinets and sink that had been replaced during my parents’ renovation in the 1970s), yet another dining room set and countless books mainly about the British royal family and the Irish famine (go figure!).
To be fair to our parents, their home also housed the childhood detritus of their offspring. School books and uniforms. Other clothes. Obsolete sporting goods. Leashes, blankets and baskets – even food – for animals long dead and fondly remembered.
Circumstances dictated that we take care of Mom and Dad’s belongings when they moved to a smaller, safer, more manageable home while they were still in an acute condition a few years before their passing. I’m sure this great loss of things was a kind of liberation for them – even though Dad continued to collect things from the dumpster.
We just went through this process again with another loved one who is less aware of what is happening. It has been a difficult, painful, even traumatic process – a form of intense grief, in fact, for a loved one who is still alive.
Regardless, it has brought me to this place of reflection where I need to declutter more and free myself from things. A starting point, of course, is to curb consumption; “Just stop buying crap,” as a friend who recently downsized significantly says.
Do I really need to replace my phone every two years? Could my next laptop be recycled rather than new?
To that end, I’ve started borrowing from the library rather than buying books, and as I look at the shelves all around me right now, I wonder if so many of the beloved titles I see but haven’t read in years might better serve other readers. Maybe if I haven’t reread a book in three years, I should drop it? If I need it again, I can always borrow it.
Thoughts of inheritance become more poignant with age. What’s really important will I leave behind – beyond the landfill? Will my children’s sadness be compounded by their guilt for cursing me while they toss the trash of my life into dumpsters or recycle what they can at thrift stores?
All of these thoughts are, of course, linked to issues of economic and social injustice at the global, national and community levels, in a world where the homeless, the hungry and the oppressed – people who have literally had everything taken from them – are omnipresent.
With this in mind, it would be much better for the privileged to leave this world with less. To give it to those who might use and enjoy it – and otherwise diminish our possessions long before we expect to die.
