Tuesday, April 3, 2012

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.


Blogger Rubye Jack said...

I am the polar opposite of you Georgiana with regard to keeping things, but this post reminds me of when my mother had a garage sale after her divorce and sold everything we kids loved from our time in Europe and Japan. (my dad was in the Army) How we wish she had at least held on to a few of those things! You did the right thing I think. Now, it seems I am just like my mother. Go figure.

April 3, 2012 at 5:04 PM  
Blogger Georgiana Keogh said...

Aren't we all?like our moms? I guess I hope I am but I remember very little about her. I've been struggling with a "sort of memoir" for my kids of my adolescence and young adulthood. It was pretty unique for lots of reasons ... alcoholic father who abandoned after my mom died (I was 11 years old) - no one willing to take me in -- blah, blah, blah = I wound up being shipped off to a convent school -.. my 8 adult kids know very little about those painful years and I think they deserve to know from whence the've come ...

April 3, 2012 at 7:39 PM  
Blogger Susan Flett Swiderski said...

I stopped by for the A-Z challenge, but it doesn't appear you're participating, after all? Nonetheless, I read some of your posts while I was here, and this one really tugged at my heartstrings. After my father died last year, it fell on me to clean out and sell the house he and my mother bought back in '53. (My mother passed away some years ago.) How hard it was to sift through all those years' worth of accumulated stuff and memories, and then discard them for reasons of practicality and space. But we have to do it. My husband and I are in the process of trying to get rid of some of our "stuff", too, because our kids already have their own houses full of "stuff" and have no room for ours. Life goes on.

Count me in as your newest follower.

April 28, 2012 at 10:25 AM  

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