Recently the New York Times reported about an older gentleman, living in a studio apartment in Manhattan, who kept a storage facility in Queens for an accumulation of family heirlooms. He came from an illustrious European background, and the items were of historic and sentimental value. All were lost when the fellow was hospitalized, and several monthly storage bills went unpaid. The article resonated with me because for many years I questioned the necessity and expense of storage offsite from our home. I finally succumbed in Maine when I needed room for my summer furniture, motorboat, and canoe, and reluctantly agreed to rent a garage for the winter months. The New York Times story of that man’s loss of family treasures is indeed a sad tale –and a worrisome reminder, in terms of the need to deal with the daily routine of disposing of the unnecessary, the unworn, the out of date and the sentimental. Too often the response is “let’s put it in the basement” or “I will lose weight and fit into that jacket next year” or “this curio belonged to my grandmother so I can’t throw it away.” So many of us stave off the hard work of discarding, using any excuse. Finding the emotional distance to get rid of a cherished but no longer useful piece of furniture or family memento is obviously a challenge. The tale of the storage facility in Queens is an example of not meeting that challenge. I face it when I finish a book I have really enjoyed. Unable to pass it along or donate to the local library, I build more bookshelves. I have a new office-library building at my camp in Maine. It holds my accumulation of books going back to the 1970s. Clothing is a bit easier, except for my collection of army uniforms which I still hang on to. In my last column I wrote about my father’s gift to me of an authentic Civil War sword, which I have taken from western New York to East Hampton to Maine. My first Indian Racer bicycle stayed with me for some 30 years after leaving home upstate. There is an emotional attachment to certain things that is hard to break, yet I am mindful that if I don’t dispose of the excess, it will be a task left for my children and I don’t want to be their burden. I have no more room anywhere for tchotchkes. My New Year’s resolution is to clean up and clear out.
