April 6th – E = EVERYTHING MUST GO I thought I was ready for it and that it would be a relief to “downsize.” It almost tore me apart! Although I was not one to hold onto “things,” because they were just that … “things,.” after 60 years of running a household and caring for eight kids, a husband and several dogs, I had amassed quite a collection. I foolishly thought … Enough! I’m going to get rid of a whole lot of this “stuff” and downsize. I certainly don’t need it. I decided to sell my house, clean out my closet, and move to a neat little condo where I no longer have use for those oversized frying pans and spaghetti pots. I certainly didn’t need the mismatched dinner plates, cups, saucers and soup bowls. I had milk, water and juice pitchers, ash trays and silent butlers, cut glass and crystal, Limoge and Dalton, to say nothing of demitasse and Irish coffee sets. Their only function was that of dust collectors now. My beloved husband died; my wonderful kids were all grown and living on their own; my home was no longer the home I loved so dearly. It was just one more “thing.” Time to move on, I thought. I scheduled an Everything Must Go Tag Sale. What a complete and utter fiasco. I stood like a sentinel at the door and every time a person would pick up one of my “things” I panicked. I would remember a moment in time, an event or joy or sorrow connected to that particular “thing” and just couldn’t bear to part with it. It belonged to me – to my family, to our history – to my kids. I felt like little pieces of myself were being fractured and disrespected. I’d smile at the remembrance of the many Sunday dinners and the very special holiday spent together as a family; the Christmas trees, the Thanksgiving turkeys, the picnics, the stick ball games and barbecues. I could picture the large refectory table in the dining room resplendent with china and candles and centerpieces. I’d see my sweet husband sitting at the head of the table and my kids seated around . I could could hear the happy chatter.and feel the energy. It was unthinkable to allow those special keepsakes to go to strangers. They were the anchors of our history and no one who hadn’t lived the experience would ever be able to appreciate their value. We needed them as precious reminders of past blessings . The ash trays would never be used again; no need for a silent butler; no sense in the dust collectors or the oversized serving pieces. I may not have needed them any longer but my children and future generations would need them to reflect and cherish their history and traditions. I sure hope so. The sale was to be held from 9:00 -5:00 .on a Saturday. By 10:00 o’clock, with tears in my eyes, memories in my heart, and gratitude in my soul, I closed the door and placed a big sign saying, SORRY – SALES OVER.