Full disclosure…
I wrote this post in May of 2025. I wrote it on a pad of lined paper while I was sitting in my parent’s living room during their estate sale. And I had plenty of time to write this while sitting there, and once you read this, you’ll understand why.
May 2025
This weekend, we had an estate sale. My parents are (finally) downsizing to a small 3 room apartment and not only is the saying “You can’t take it with you” true, but it’s also true when downsizing.
All week, my mother worked with the estate sale people, making tough choices, emptying drawers and cabinets, and ultimately deciding to let things go. 83 years of stuff, and she is finally ready to say goodbye.
So, it was organized, displayed, and priced. It was advertised and discussed, and finally, the big day arrived.
But the customers did not.
I sat in the living room, surrounded by my parent’s belongings and sold very few items. Collections they had spent years curating cultivated no interest. Treasures found afar and carried lovingly on laps in airplanes sat on tables and didn’t turn a single head.
We marked things down 20%, 50%, and 70% to no avail.
And yes, I’m aware this was a bit of an anomaly. Estate sales are usually hopping. Whether it was the weather or location or what, this sale was dead.
So, sitting at the cashier’s table, I had a lot of time to think. About life and “stuff” and about a life spent accumulating” “stuff.” And wondering why we continue to bring more in if we already have what we need.
I know why my grandparents did it. All of my grandparents were burn in the 19-teens. They lived through the depression and understood how it felt to go without. And none of them were wealthy before the global depression happened, so they were tightening a belt that already had very little room to go. So, when they grew up and became adults with jobs, ownership was a big deal.
My dad’s parents lived in a blue collar town in Ohio. Grandpa worked in a factory and Grandma had a small beauty shop, in the house, and was a librarian. They lived modestly and there was not a lot of money. But Grandma had these beautiful Desert Rose “Good” China dishes and she adored them. I never once saw her use those dishes, and they stayed in the breakfront in the kitchen my entire childhood.
My Mom’s parents lived in a tiny house on, what my mom has always called “the wrong side of town,” in a small town in New Jersey. Grandma was a teacher and Grandpa worked for Bell Labs and had been a codebreaker during WWII. Grandma had a teacup collection that lived on racks in teh dining room. To look at. Not to use. Not to touch.
But why? Both Grandmas loved those collections. Yet, they were so afraid to use them. I think Grandma Lawrence would have loved to have eaten a meal on that Desert Rose. And Grandma Diehl would have enjoyed a cup of tea in one of those tea cups.
So, why wouldn’t they have used them? Why do we own things we can’t use? Even if it is just because we now have the means to do so when we once didn’t?
Because here’s the thing…
Nobody wants your stuff. You accumulate and accumulate, but at the end of the day, nobody wants your stuff. Probably not even your kids.
Am I say to not be sentimental? Don’t save or inherit or buy things that bring you joy? No, I am not. My bookshelves would prove me a liar if I did. But think carefully about what you bring in. It’s okay to say no when family asks if you want to take something. And think twice before you buy something in the store that you will never, ever use.
And if you’ve already said yes to taking something that is offered to you, or if you’ve already bought something, then use it! In 2010, I wrote a post called “The Good China” where I said exactly this. When I wrote it, I was 38 years old. Today, at 53 (54 now!), with aging parents, I feel it even stronger. use it. And if you aren’t going to use it, say no thank you.
Because guess what is on a display table in the other room right now?
Teacups and Desert Rose China.
Now let me give you an update.
As I mentioned, the estate sale was a flop. And my Mom did not get rid of as much as I had thought she was getting rid of. And my Dad was in rehab when they actually moved, so we FaceTimed about his books, but. he wasn’t able to cull his collection as much as I had hoped. And when they did move, we wound up taking a ton of stuff and putting it in our garage, because it didn’t sell, wasn’t donate-able, and my parents hadn’t dealt with it when they should have.
So, since last May, I have not been able to park my car in my side of the garage. And the second bedroom in their apartment is full of stuff that still needs to be gone through, sold, sorted, donated, and trashed.
My father passed away in September and I have been selling and donating his books ever since. Things that my mom demanded come with her to the apartment have now been deemed unnecessary and I am now tasked with figuring out what to do with them. Boxes of cancelled checks that I have to shred. 50 years of files that I have to go through. Stadium Chairs from the old Cleveland Stadium that I have to sell, and probably ship because who in NJ is going to buy those? Books, movies, dvds, boxes upon boxes of slides, old photos, knick-knacks, paintings, all of it unwanted in this new space.
And I know someone is going to say “Just have Goodwill come and take it all away,” and yes, that would be the easier choice, but it’s emotional work that shouldn’t have been my task. And I’m looking at things that meant something to these people I love and I am somehow now having to decide that we aren’t keeping it. My Mom will say “Do what you want” with something and then ask about it five months down the road, suddenly having a desire to see it. But it’s unfeasible to keep it all, and I don’t have time, on top of three jobs, to sort through it all in a timely manner, and I don’t want my one month, in the summer, of downtime to be spent on junk that isn’t even mine.
So, friends, the lesson here is this:
Think twice about what you buy, accept, or create.
And while you are still young, make decisions about what you have and start the paring down process. Because time is not a guarantee, and if you have children, you don’t want them to be burdened with those decisions or the job of getting rid of things after you are gone, or even while you are still here.
Deal with your crap so no one else has to.
