I have a theory that most of us spend the first half of our
lives acquiring two of everything God ever created and the second half trying
to get rid of that stuff. Generally, the kids don’t want it. They want to
collect their own junk. We downsized from the big house to our smallest rental
over five years ago, and couldn’t be happier. Rather than having an acre of
mature oaks surrounded by huge, multicolored Azaleas, beautiful, but labor
intensive, our lawn now is the size of a small swimming pool...without water,
filled in and topped with weeds. It takes me about 10 minutes to mow and looks
a lot like grass when it’s cut. Perfect. Our house is 1,600 sq. ft., down from
more than twice that, but we still only use the bedroom, kitchen, and the
sitting room where the TV and laptops are. The dining and living rooms gather
dust. We don’t have a garage so the cars sit outside. Not being a car guy,
that’s fine with me. I just want something reliable to get from here to there.
But we still have too much stuff.
Priorities change with age. When we’re young, in the belly
of the beast, working, raising families, we go for more, bigger. And then at
some point when the kids are off on their own, we stop all that and go into
reverse. Been there, done that, and I just don’t care about it anymore.
Although we still have lots of nice things that caught our eye along the way,
shiny objects, I wouldn’t lose any sleep if a burglar took it all tomorrow. But
some things, family things, have been with me all of my life, I grew up with
them. Those are the material things that I care very much about. That antique
rocking horse that I used to ride when I was smaller than an upright vacuum. A
cherry wood dresser made by my 3rd great Grandfather on my dad’s side, those
oil portraits of 5th great grandparents, the woman looking so stern, the large
mahogany chest my Grandfather made for Grandma Ruth just prior to their golden
wedding anniversary. Those things. I’m just the caretaker. Ruth and Hannah will
get them someday whether they want them or not. They will be caretakers too. I
treasure these things and know them so well. They represent stability
regardless of the circumstances in my life.
This watercolor miniature was painted on ivory in 1918, when
my mother was less than a year old. Grandma Ruth is holding my Mom in her lap.
When my own daughter Ruth was also a baby around the same age, I took her to
see her great Grandma Maverick in the elder care facility where Grandma lived
out the last year of her life. All of that was a long time ago but the painting
looks the same to me through my 68-year-old eyes as it did when I was a kid.
Material things aren’t the key to happiness, that’s all about family, friends,
good health, love, attitude...but these family mementos soaked up all of that
along the way and give it back to me in small doses whenever I feel a need to
reconnect. They help to remind me of who I am, where I came from, and where I’m
going. In a world that sometimes seems to be spinning out of control, that is
something that gives me value and comfort beyond measure.
