Donating Stuff

I’m writing this as I wait for Salvation Army to come and pick up stuff I am donating.


So easy to call it that, so hard to feel that.

I have a coffee table. Its always been too small for my couches but I  loved it. When I was a baby it was in my grandparents home. When I started to learn to walk I guess I banged my head on the sharp end pretty hard. My grandfather took the table to the garage and rounded the ends, carving little indents all around it to make it look attractive while suiting it’s purpose of being easier for a baby to wend her way around, learning to walk. My grandfather died when I was 10, actually 11 days before President Kennedy was assassinated, both linked forever in my mind.

There is a wine rack….well, enough said about that. But it’s pretty and it reminds me of a time when wine was plentiful in this house, and friends were too. And it stored new wines to try, to taste, not to drink with abandon. There was a time when that was the truth.

There is a bedroom set side table. I have 2, keeping one. I don’t need 2 anymore. I don’t have the room, I don’t have the need. I am glad to keep the bed though, a comfort in this move.

There are boxes of china that I salvaged from my parents garage before selling their house.  I gave some away, sold a few sets and packed up the rest.My mother worked for years at Bullocks…back before it was Macy’s. She worked in the China and Crystal department and collected both avidly. She always thought she’d give a lot of dinner parties, and I feel her frustration in those dishes, the anger of my father when she brought so much home, the parties that never did happen. I actually am keeping quite a lot of them, beautiful plates and cups, differing sets of 4, one set of 12 completely different Aynsley Chine plates. I picture her planning a dinner party for 12. I don’t know that i will do that, but those 12 plates will now be my every day china. It’s meant to be used and I will. And I will honor my mom by doing that. There is also a number of pretty crystal glasses that I will use, and even silverware.  I had a set of stainless on my list to buy when I moved. Took that off the list and I will be using this “good” silver. Daily. I will USE all of this “stuff”…in honor of my mother and myself. She didn’t use it every day, she didn’t feel worthy of it. I do.

A set of china from Tom’s grandmother. The china doesn’t really mean anything to me, but there is a lot behind it. Anger, resentment, guilt. Should I have bit the bullet and sent it back to Minnesota, to his family? The family that basically ignores me, that never really approved of me, maybe didn’t even like me. Which isn’t the issue either, but the family that should have had the kid back every year, should have helped him in the years since Tom died, not ignored him or disapproved of what he was doing without helping him.  That’s a resentment I need to get rid of, but it’s too loaded for me now. I’m not willing to pack and pay for shipment of this china though…someone else will like it. I was willing to pack and pay for trips to Minnesota for my son, but they didn’t ask.

There are old pots and pans…I think I am ready for a decent set of those. I cook now, not well, but I try. I deserve some really nice cookware. That’s one of the things on my list to buy.

Xmas decorations, so lovingly placed on our huge tree. Now I have a little pile…my favorites, enough to decorate the little tree I have bought  the last 2 years.

Bags of clothes…outgrown by my son, Wonder Boy. Others can use them. His old dresser, his old couch in his room….gone. The last vestiges of him in this house

A file cabinet that held so much I had to toss; scripts and Grove skits, Xmas CD lists and info, funeral and cremation information, pension plans and headshots. That was hard, hard. Hand held on that one, dear friends saving my sanity.

The Salvation Army is coming to pick up stuff, that’s all it is.

Except to me. It’s my life, in pieces. Divesting my memories.

Except that’s not even true, the memories don’t go. I have the china and silver; I have other pieces of furniture, I have a couple headshots, just because…but that stuff isn’t the memories. I will never forget the truth and love behind all of these things, all this stuff.

Yes, donating stuff.




Add yours →

  1. ((Hugs))

    Not sure why this song came to mind, well I am…, but not sure why I’m sharing, but I am… It seems like one you’d like. xoxo

  2. For the good stuff, I hope whoever gets it loves and enjoys it as you did.
    For the bad stuff, hope getting rid of it helps you clear your head.
    For the rest, well, somtimes it’s good to slough off the old skins…

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