The Giving Circle

Black and white border collie lying in the snow intentlyawaiting a Frisbee toss

via The 2019 Christmas Charity Appeal – Help Me Raise £250 For Battersea Dogs & Cats Home By Leaving Me Links To Your Blogs and Books

As I’ve posted in the last few months, my beloved border collie Bess was the love of my life. She gave me 14.5 years of unconditional love, companionship, and fun. As I continue mourning her loss, I reach out for other canines (and four-legged friends) in need of help because there is no one to speak up for them.

At this giving time of year the tag line at the end of my e-mails asks folks to consider donating to a pet shelter. This morning, I read this very worthy post on a 2019 Christmas Charity Appeal for dogs and cats that also offers to help bloggers. Seems like a wonderful circle of giving.  I hope you will join in too.

Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays

to You and All of Our Beloved Furry Critters

Clearing the Way

Snow covered pathway toward sunshine

“You spend the first half of your life acquiring

and the second half discarding.”


Red pick-up truck loaded with cabinets, chairs, washing machine

Loading the pick-up truck with things too good to discard, I recalled traveling this multifarious path before. Most of my life actually. From Mom setting up our apartment after my parents divorce, to my returning home from college…to storing relics in my barn while building a dream home…to housing family memorabilia upon my father’s death, then brother’s divorce – one and two, and mother’s passing. Soon my life became crammed with mementos of everyone’s past. Things too good to discard. Things once thought they couldn’t be lived without…have become things forgotten about.


Reuse and recycle is anything but new.


Materialistic I am not. Scottish resourcefulness and being raised by parents of the Great Depression indoctrinated me with environmental concepts early on. That includes donating gifts I’ll never use (but also means holding on to some “just-in-case” items that might not get used).


If something comes in, something must go.


While crazed Black Friday shoppers raced toward the acquisition gate, my wish list focused on meaningful experiences — engaging time with dear ones, sensational restaurants, bucket-list travel, living theater, musical concerts of varied genres — non-materialistic things that proffer a pleasing energy without depleting space. Kind of like “green giving.”


Face unused possessions with, “Do I really need this?”


Tidbits of loyalty complicate clearing away. How could I discard my mother’s high school class graduation photo? It feels disrespectful to give it to the Salvation Army (Would they want it anyway?) and Heaven forbid, I could not throw it in the trash. I just couldn’t. Yet, what am I going to do with it, except store it in the basement…like the dusty china and crystal rarely used…or my dad’s wartime souvenirs, drawings, and bosun’s whistle that I’m still secretly hoping some organization would want to display.


Stuff carries personal and planetary responsibilities.


When I pass, will my remaining belongings wait for a stranger to unload...along with numerous other keepsakes and prized possessions of each person in my life? Is that the usual way out…leave heaps of stuff for someone else who holds no attachment? It would be easier emotionally for them to clear out but an unfair and monumental task. Besides, what about the planet?

Like the environmentally-conscious youth culture who rejects using existing quality made, real wood furniture, opting instead for put-it-together junk composed of compressed wood chips and plastic veneers that won’t last — it doesn’t make sense to me (or for our rapidly filling planet).


How we deal with stuff can mirror how we deal with life.


Boxes of hats, shoes, purses, furs, evening wear to get rid of

After decades of carrying boxes from place to place, and shuffling moments from one building to another, I’ve realized I often compartmentalize emotions in challenging times, putting them in boxes until I can appropriately deal with them. Same holds true for family stuff. My mom became a hoarder who couldn’t let go. My brother tossed things from his immediate sight. I’m the organized one…with the boxes.


Saying, “It’s served its purpose,” makes it easier to let go.


When it gets too much, and the clutter of memories swallows up my space, I need to let go. Now, that I have so many of my brother’s belongings I’ve begun clearing more of my mother’s past. The evening gowns, furs, and hats that she could never vacate from her apartment are leaving my home.


Mother Nature naturally knows how to clear the way.


After delivering 17 jam-packed carloads of my mom’s stuff and 15 of my brother’s to charities, and a lot of my dad’s history to the auctioneer, I’ve sworn I would never do this to my benefactors. Making arrangements for one’s personal belongings — no matter how small, is a loving but often forgotten piece of estate planning. Even Mother Nature, when overloaded with piles of leaves or debris, sends in sheets of rain or a gust of wind to clear the wreckage of the past.

Colorful autumn leaves blowing in the forefront of an evergreen forest

Do you consider what comes into your space? Have you cleared out family possessions? Are you in an acquiring or discarding mode? 

Collections of Recollections

Colored photographs hanging above colored clothes on a rack
Wrapping up porcelain plates in newspaper to protect for moving
Protecting porcelain plates in newspaper for moving

 

Boxes of newspaper wrapped dishes,

and shielded glass in picture frames

reminds me

I’ve resided here for half my life.

 

More frequent moving in more youthful days

not needed or necessarily desired —

right now.

Unless I could turn my back

and be there

immediately

without sorting through stuff.

Taking only recollections with me

in the boxes of my mind.

Woman's hand pulling back clothes on rack to see dress
Original photo by Becca McHaffie on Unsplash

Thumbing through stored clothes

my consciousness wanders

through seasons…styles…

Is this too vintage?

Is there vintage vintage — like my racy aunt’s 1940’s blazer that I’ve preserved for another 40 years…

…or my mother’s creepy high heels that mimicked the Wicked Witch of the West’s?

Time periods,

events,

come running back

like a long ago lover

I’ve forgotten to miss.

Each dress recreates a juncture,

a feeling,

that I don’t want to discard…

doing so feels too dementia-like.

Protective plastic covers up

confectionery scenes —

that captured job interview,

unforgettable party,

spellbinding date…

Colored photographs hanging above colored clothes on a rack
Photo by Shanna Camilleri on Unsplash

…preserving

a lifetime of memories

dangling

in the closet

of my mind.