Yep, I have too much stuff! For 12 years I’ve rented a little garage in town to hold my “over-flow.” Even though I spent a lot of green on that garage, I tell myself that it’s all GOOD stuff, or IMPORTANT stuff, or THE KIDS’ stuff. But this week I called my sweet landlady, and told her, “I’m getting rid of my stuff. I won’t need the garage anymore (GULP!).” I’ve got two weeks–a deadline.

And that means I have to finally, at long last, after too many years of procrastination and avoidance, go through my STUFF. I have begun. Each day this week I have managed to ford my way through 4 boxes. By Sunday I should hit Box #28. At one point I counted up to 70 boxes of…books, old cassette tapes, photos, old letters & postcards, kids’ school papers, art supplies, greeting cards, teacher materials, scrapbooks, baby clothes, kids’ dolls, stuffed animals, historic articles of clothing (no inflatable petticoats, however), even an LP album or two.

After almost 60 years of walking on the planet, I learned that a little bit of knowledge can be a ___________ thing. (You know the word.) Did you know that there is a National Postcard Collector’s Association? Surely, THEY want my old postcards. And what is the value of these little Madame Alexander dolls? They MUST be collectible…even if the shoes are missing? And there is a certain (embarassing) down-side to having had my picture in the paper more times than “you can shake a stick at.” I have clippings, and copies of clippings. Shouldn’t I save them all? For my kids and grandkids? For a display at my funeral?

Yesterday I read through the calendars I kept when my daughter Wren was a baby. I had noted each little achievement, each tiny sneeze. As I read, I felt the years peel back. I could see her, smell her, feel her tugging on my clothes, cooing in my ear. I won’t keep the calendars. I will keep the memories, tucked in my heart (And now carefully recorded in a Word Doc).

Three days ago I finally tossed the “Sympathy” cards that were sent when my husband, Radio Rick Thorpe, died in 1991. I re-read everyone, smiling, crying and quietly noting how many of the good people who had sent cards back then had now passed on, just like Rick.

The odd part of this is that I feel like I keep bumping into myself on some strange road. It’s as if the part of me that is going forward brushes against the part of me that’s already been, and knocks things out of my own hands. So, I’m picking up little pieces of my life with each box, looking at them, turning them over and over in my hand, my head and my heart.

And maybe that’s why we all avoid this task, this taking care of business, this beginning with the end in mind. It’s tough to decide what to do with all of it! But this I’ve learned: #1–We can’t take it with us. #2–When we’re gone, someone else will have to figure out why we kept it. #3–It hurts to relive this life, even the sweetest parts.

Last night, after finishing my daily box quota, I turned to my sweet guy with tears. I told him that this task was harder than I had thought. I told him that I didn’t know that I could relive so much of my life in just one day. Tenderness. Laughter. Sorrow. Disappointments. Triumphs. Even anger. Yet I see what a lucky, beautiful life it has been.

It’s just stuff. So, if you’re like me with a mountain of clutter…begin it. There’s a great quote by the German philosopher Goethe: “Whatever you dare to do, begin it. There is magic in boldness.”

AND since I want to help stimulate our local economy, I recommend that you track down a Home Organizer to help you. There are several in our community. I’ll bet you may even have one of their business cards….somewhere in your STUFF.

My name is B.Z. Smith. I tell stories. This is one of them.