On Sorting Through Stuff

This last week I spent at my boyhood home, sorting through a bunch of stuff that represents a lot of Mom’s life. (Mom is fine, so no worries there.) There was stuff in the upstairs attic, garage rafters, and the back of the shed (and no, 99.97 percent of it wasn’t mine). It’s my Dad’s stuff, mostly, some of it Mom’s, a little each of both my sisters, and oddly enough, some stuff from the missus that she didn’t even know was up there. It was quite a lot--we filled 10 yards of a 20 yard dumpster, and the Salvation Army wound up filling what appeared to be a quarter of a truckload. Not bad for three days work.

A bit o’ ancient history: way back when I was in high school, back in the early 1980’s, I was called by several names (most of which are unprintable; I’d like to keep this blog somewhat family friendly). One of those was “Packrat.” I earned that because I carried a backpack to all my classes. In those days, you could and nobody cared. Nowadays, they search them for things. My, how times have changed...but, I digress. I carried my ‘pack because my locker was smack in the middle of “D” wing (D1214, to be precise), and I knew I couldn’t get to it, into and out of it, and to my classes on time. You just can’t stretch five minutes into eight, no matter how good you are.

The fact I collected all manner of junk...excuse me, really cool stuff...was a secondary issue. Or, so I thought.

So, why bring up ancient history? Because of what was unearthed.

Thongs like old magazines. Stuff from Blue Devils (Yes, all three of us kids were in the Concord Blue Devils. My two sisters were both in the “A” Corps, and I was in both Cadets (now “C” corps) and “B” Corps) and the CVHS marching band. More old magazines. Office stuff from what appears to be Dad’s last five offices. Computer stuff that dates backs to our first few home computers. (I found some tapes from the TRS-80 we had when I was still called Packrat, as well as a template for planning programs, plus about two years of 80Micro. If you had a TRS-80, you know what that is.) Even more old magazines. Stuff that was from my Mom’s mother. And her Aunt. And her Cousin. Stuff my one sister created in college. (Both my sisters are disgustingly artistically talented.) Effects from when I was in Y-Indian guides. (Told you this stuff was old!) Styrofoam that fit monitors long gone. Foam peanuts. Newspapers that discuss Kennedy’s assassination AND the 1976 US Bicentennial. Yet more old magazines. Engineering books, and a fair number of them.

Now, to be fair, I have my own share of junk in storage. (George Carlin was right--Dad had some real junk, but I have some really cool stuff.) Roughly forty percent of my library is in small-sized cedar tubs. I have several boxes of stuff that frankly needs sorting and either pitching, donating, or putting aside until I can file it, use it, or put it on a wall. The vast majority of the LEGO, Star Trek items, and a lot of my Barbershop stuff is also in tubs. More back issues of Discipleship Journal, The Harmonizer, Animerica Magazine (and Animerica Plus as well), and Star Trek: The Magazine than is possibly safe to admit to. (Plus some old Manga, in issue form.) So you know I come by this honestly, and it seems to have come from from my Great-Grandmother, through Grandfather Crandall, to Dad...and thus, to me.

The biggest difference, however, is that I have already gotten rid of a lot of stuff. (Don’t believe me? Ask the missus.) And, as I have time (probably in the waiting times for each of my dissertation components) I am going to have go through and get rid of more of it. It’s not that it’s junk (although some of it is).

It’s because I don’t want the missus to have to sort through it all later on.

Enough for now.

(Posted 6/8/09)