Is it the Right Stuff?

Boy, have I got "stuff"!

I seem to remember a George Carlin routine about stuff. How we like to collect stuff and sometimes need to move into bigger houses to hold more of our stuff. I can totally relate to that.

I was at my parents' house for a few days. Yes, even at my age.I still have a few items there. (Don't make me define "few.") There are some Spanish literature books from college, my solo/ensemble medals from high school, postcards and such from childhood vacations. You'd think that with my fondness to take a red pen to the written word I'd also have no trouble deleting some accumulated stuff. But alas, that's not the case. I must insist that it's not entirely a flaw in my character. Looking around my parents' basement and cottage, I am convinced that it's in my "genes." (My sister should catch why that's a bit of a play on words.) We seem to be a family of savers. "Don't throw that out. I might need that some day!" "Oh, I remember when I got that (insert miscellaneous item here)!"

Luckily, my sister seems to have broken the cycle. She keeps the good stuff, but she is better able to determine the difference between memento and junk. With her help, I'm getting better at seeing that getting rid of the princess mirror, brush, and comb set won't mean that I'll forget what it felt like to be a little girl. That bowl that Mother put our baby food in is neat, but I don't remember using it. I don't have lots of shelf space for nostalgic items. It's best to sell/give/donate it and let it become someone else's treasure.

I've already identified the boxes my sister and I will investigate next time we're at my folks' house together. I think I'll be ready to get rid of some books (since I could no longer read Spanish), I can pare down decades-old souvenirs, and I'll bring my medals back to my house. I don't know if all of my stuff is right, but there's certainly some comfort in knowing it's mine.