The Great Flood entered our basement last July. Having spent the day in Longmont,
I was completely unaware of how severe a rainstorm we had gotten in Boulder. A beautiful day awaited my return, sunny and
warm as you please. As soon as I pulled
into the driveway, that beautiful day came to an end. My neighbor was outside, looking frantic as
she sometimes does, so I didn’t think much about it. She came immediately over and said, “Fiona,
you might want to go look in your basement.”
“Oh!” I replied, wondering why.
“What happened?” Only then did I
learn about the torrential rain that had passed through earlier that afternoon.
As I descended the stairwell, my heart sank in tune with
each step. When I reached the bottom,
the destruction came into focus. After a
really loud, “Oh, shit!” I started wading.
Standing water a foot high awaited me, and a weird smell to go with
it. Everything on the floor was
saturated. Once-rigid boxes had become
soft and soggy, sometimes spilling their contents into the water. What first came to sight was all the granola,
energy bars, packaging material, marketing material, t-shirts, and sundry other
business items that were quickly getting ruined. “I gotta save this granola!” I thought. Never mind the photos, the generations of
family history, my daughter Natalie’s artwork, papers, school projects, slides,
books, life mementos, Guatemalan textiles, letters, postcards, Spanish teaching
materials, travel memoirs, and other items of significance. All these things were also drowning. But in my reactive mode, I did not act
rationally. Whatever I laid my eyes on
next, I decided must be the most important thing to haul out of there.
Through the loss that became apparent as the days went by, the
sadness deepened. I dried out as many
photos and pieces of Natalie’s artwork I could, but the defeat set in. Not only did I have the material losses to
deal with, but the emotional ones were what really wiped me out.
The rationale for not addressing these material goods has
always been, “I’m too busy.” Too busy
raising a child, too busy running a company, too busy going to school, too busy
moving around the country or around the world.
So I found a simple solution: pile all my belongings into boxes. On a good day I’d remember to label them, but
not all days were good days. When The
Great Flood struck, I had more mystery boxes in the basement than I could
imagine, some labeled, some not. Some I
had not opened for decades.
As it came to pass, one flood unleashed another. Stuffed away in the basement, dark and
concealed, it’s easy to forget one’s life accumulations. But when they rise to the surface, and even
float, they cannot be ignored. They must
be dealt with, one way or another. And so,
I’ve decided there’s no time like the present.
The basement now dry, it is me who is currently drowning in
clutter. Considering that I do not consider
myself a materialist, I am in awe at how much stuff I have accumulated. I owned my last car for 15 years until I
didn’t feel safe driving it anymore. I
have purposely lived in third-world countries with families who had no
hot water, a diet consisting mostly of beans and rice, rudimentary plumbing,
and few of the “creature comforts” that many of us take for granted. I do not want THINGS - in fact I beg people to
not buy or give me THINGS. I am
constantly assembling THINGS to give away - clothes, jewelry, books, food, knickknacks,
chatchkies, and “happies,” as my mother-in-law Gege calls them. “Happies” are all the Valentine’s goodies,
St. Patrick’s Day schwag, Easter paraphernalia, Thanksgiving frollies, birthday
mementos, Christmas ornaments, and all kinds of things in between, that Gege
somehow can’t resist sending us for every possible occasion.
The truth is, I do finally have time to go through all this
clutter. That was one of the benefits I
knew could be realized by taking time off.
“I’ll finally have time to clear out all this stuff!” But who thought It would be so
difficult? Who thought It would be so
emotionally taxing? “It” has become it’s
own entity in my household, a presence I find easier to avoid than face. I have learned that being sentimental is a
sharp, double-edged sword.
When I look for something I can’t find it. When I find it I don’t know what to do with
it. The frustration sets in, my body
heats up with stress, and I leave the room.
Put it out of my sight and try to put it out of my mind.
I even found old love letters from my first husband. Now why would I keep those? Is there some sentimental value there? It was a painful divorce, and he certainly
doesn’t feel this way about me now.
Should I save them for Natalie?
Would she find some sort of comfort knowing first-hand that we were
truly happy for a lot of years? Or would
reading those letters make her even angrier that we split up? I don’t know if reading those letters would
help her or hurt her, so until I think I know the answer, I choose to keep
them. Sigh.
Just last week, I got rid of all the National Geographics
that have been sitting on my bookshelf since 1994. I found parts of eight years worth of these
beloved magazines. Always thinking I’d
get back to them, always thinking I’d find time to read them. Not that I actually got rid of them. I am certainly not capable of that. After all, my decades-old dream of being a
writer for National Geographic stays with me.
But they did go into plastic bins and down to, yes, the basement. That opened up room for more of my beloved
cookbooks that I had stuffed on top of all my other cookbooks. Not that I’ll ever get to those either! But my love of cooking and baking is so
fierce, those cookbooks are not going anywhere.
And some of them are heirlooms.
Both my grandmother MM and my great aunt Leni were magnificent chefs,
and I like to think their culinary talents live on through me.
Clearing my clutter goes way beyond the basement. There’s my office, replete with business
paraphernalia from the last 11 years.
There’s Leni’s old hutch in the hallway, its little drawers so stuffed
with things I can hardly tell what’s there.
There are my music CD’s, which I’m slowly getting onto my iPod and my
computer, so that the mountains of disks can go away. Kitchen cabinets, bathroom cabinets, file
cabinets, the garage, and just about every closet in the house - they all beckon
to me.
Initially, I was so excited about clearing my clutter,
sometimes I got jittery. “I can’t wait!”
I fooled myself. “It’ll be fun and just
think of all the goodies I’ll unearth.” Now
that I’ve started, “fun” is about the last word to come to mind. Interesting, yes. Revealing, yes. Heart-warming, yes. But fun?
That is no longer a word I use to describe going through my
clutter. Most days I feel heavy, like
I’m being burdened. It has occurred to
me that I could hire someone to help me clear my clutter. But why should I give someone else the power
to decide what’s important to keep and what isn’t? How would someone else understand the
sentimental value I attach to so much of what’s down there? What will I ever do with MM’s old ski outfit
from the 1920’s? Or Leni’s tapes from
her German Radio Hour? Or Papa’s wooden
stamp organizer? Hired professionals
won’t know that MM managed to get that ski suit out of Nazi Germany during a
time she was lucky to be alive. Or that
Leni had enjoyed a flourishing acting career, often landing leading roles, and
that her German Radio Hour on WBUR Boston was her way of holding onto some of
that glorious past. Or that my
grandfather had been a respected professor at the University of Berlin,
teaching Physics, Math, and Chemistry, and that he had amassed an amazing stamp
collection. Seeing these mementos
reminds me of how miraculous their escape was, and how rich my heritage
is. To let these things go is to let go
of a very important part of my past.
Somehow, I just can’t do it.
Truth is, I’m finding wonderful treasures in all my rubble,
even in my office. Adorable cards and
notes and letters Natalie has written to me over the years, together with precious
photos that for some reason were stashed away with my business documents. And hey, the other day I found an old beat-up
envelope I almost tossed. So glad I
didn’t, because inside I found a stash of cash left over from farmer’s market,
$535 to be exact. Not a bad day for cleaning
out the Tower of Power, my tattered but beloved office
cabinet.
Some days I feel stronger than others. Some days seem to set me back more than allow
me to move forward. One day, just when I
felt a great strength come on that I really could toss so many of my old business
materials from the last decade, the idea popped into my head that perhaps I should listen to what so many people have told me
over the years: that I ought to write a book about my experience starting and
running a granola company. Oh brother. I guess that means I do need to save those years of daytimer fillers and farmers market
notebooks I just found. Sigh.
Through all this pondering, I’ve discovered if I am going to
get through this, I need an attitude adjustment. Hence, I have instigated one. I’ve decided it’s not healthy to dub my belongings
“stuff” or “clutter” or “junk.” So I am
renaming. My THINGS are now called “Family
History,” “School Projects,” “Travel Memoirs,” “Biz Materials,” “Personal Treasures,”
“Life Mementos,” etc. I’ve also realized
that just getting all these items organized lends a tremendous sense of
relief. Plastic bins of varying colors
have replaced boxes, and every one will have a label. I remind myself that many of these objects
evoke precious memories. How can I
complain about that? The items that
bring forth heartache and pain, well, I can either get rid of those, or write
about them as a healing mechanism. Perhaps
one of my bins will be titled “Items for Healing.” I will also start rewarding myself when I
finish little projects. I recently
downloaded 2,234 photos off my camera.
Wow! They are now in folders on
my computer, and some of them even made their way to DVDs. I’m not saying the folders are organized or
the disks make logical sense. But they
are off the camera and in a safe place, so I need to give myself credit for
that.
Sharing this dilemma has netted sound advice. One suggestion was to scan items such as
artwork and family documents onto a computer, instead of stuffing them into
bins. Then let them go. Another suggestion was to integrate my
“clearings” into my daily or weekly
schedule, even if that only amounts to a few hours a week. “You will appreciate every little bit of
progress, and that progress will fuel you to keep going,” one friend told
me. As it turns out, she is absolutely
right. Filling up the recycling bin, topping
off bags for Goodwill or EFAA, organizing bookshelves, and clearing out filing
cabinets brings me more joy than I ever thought possible. And seeing “empty space” - wow, that
“emptiness” allows me to breathe more deeply and brings its own sense of
fulfillment. Another piece of advice:
“If it has no sentimental value, out it goes.”
Taking this statement to heart allowed me to get rid of odd pieces of
furniture, old utensils, books I’ll never read, games I’ll never play, obsolete
electronic items, baskets I have no use for, replicate plant holders, and other
sundry items. Upon discussing my clothes
with someone, she said, “If you haven’t worn it for a year, you probably won’t
wear it for another year, so get rid of it.”
That piece of advice has been harder to implement, but I cannot deny
it’s probably true. Another friend told
me, “We think there is value in the things we hold onto, and so that’s why we
hold onto them. But these things only
have value if they are put to use. If we
don’t use the things we own, then what value do they really have? We might as well give these things to someone
who will use them, and then they will
have value.” What I’ve learned from these
pieces of advice is that they are actually nuggets of wisdom born of personal experiences. I’m not alone in my quest to lighten my load,
and just knowing that others are going through this process provides a sense of
bonding and connection that gives me strength to keep going. Others find that fortitude, so can I!
Perhaps most of all, putting a positive spin on this process
is proving to be invaluable. Days when I
just can’t face going through my belongings, I let it go. I remind myself that I am making progress,
that I’ll be happier moving through life with a lighter load, and that sifting
through one’s possessions isn’t easy for anyone. I take a deep breath, make a decision, and go
about my day.