Respect

The emotions that came up the first week we started our project ranged from amazement at finding what looked to be a first edition of Les Miserables, frustration at finding the baby toys that we just repurchased since we couldn’t find this box, frustration that we were unwrapping a big box of dishes that we would need to rewrap, fascination at the old sugar bowl and excitement in having things so old and possibly valuable, and amusement that the set of cups, saucers and dessert plates we unwrapped and decided to keep (since they were a really nice set), happened to have their matching dinner, salad and appetizer plates in our cupboards waiting for their long lost cousins. We obviously thought the plates were nice enough to keep the first time around too, now it’s nice to have the whole set together.

The second week brought up a lot of emotions around respect. Respect for elders like Sissy whose style and personality show through the most in the possessions still in the house. For the old things around the house, mostly the books that we’ve been going through the past two weeks. And for the religious items that Sissy was so fond of.

Week three was a bit different. I’m over the old books. We have so many old books; I’m getting ready to part with the less older ones. I know I’m not going to read any of them. I don’t have time to read the books I need to read, never mind the books that I would like to read for enjoyment. I’m still amazed at the books from pre-1900. Especially of note are the books from 1805… that’s only 30 years after the country was born. Wow. Cool.

When we first moved into the house I found the book Soils and Men, Yearbook of Agriculture, United States Department of Agriculture. That interested me then because it was so old and it still interests me now since we have a garden. I may read that book someday when I have the time and want to learn about gardening and soil more. Not too likely, but maybe. But Les Miserables? I really doubt I’ll have the time to read that nor do I really have the interest. Ok, it’s supposedly a classic, but I’m sure there are others I could read. Just because we have a classic book in our house doesn’t mean I have to read it, does it? They’re strange rationalizations but these are the type of unconscious thoughts that have me keeping the stuff in our house.

And Sissy’s religious items. From our book list you can guess what a good portion of the house is filled with. It’s reflected in the paintings on all the walls (and piled in the cellar) and the other little knick knacks around the house. I’m not so religious that I would read any of the books. And not enough that I would want the paintings on every wall, especially since the frames are pretty worn and old and a lot of them are falling apart. Because of the sheer number of them, some have to go. But how do I get rid of these things? I’m guessing most people wouldn’t care much about things that are not theirs. But I have respect for my wife’s family and religion. Do I have too much respect?

I’m thinking this post is helping me. I think I may be able to part with a little bit more from gaining this insight.

Really… the pictures in the basement really are in bad shape. Some are even… ahh!… moldy. And yet we’re still keeping them down there. And some of the frames are broken. Are they antiques? Would an antique frame be worth anything if it was fixed? I’m sure we don’t have the little pieces of wood that have fallen off of them. And who has the time to find out if they’re antiques, let alone fix them? I don’t care enough about them nor do I have the expertise to do that. And I can’t imagine that they’re worth enough to make up for the time spent.

Is it possible to have too much respect – to the point that it’s a detriment to one’s life? Well, if we got sick because there’s mold in the house that would be a detriment. And like I said in a previous post, there’s the whole aspect of the time, money and resources in keeping and managing this stuff.

Does anyone even know I care that much? I don’t even know if my wife cares that much about her family’s stuff. She may, but I don’t know; I could be respecting in vain. I wouldn’t want to nor could I stop myself from caring as much as I do. But I’m sure I can find other ways to show it. And I could pick something I know she would like.

I think it’s time to ditch some stuff.