You get these “pings” once in a while. During a conversation or while reading a news story or a book, something will connect with a previous conversation or something you’ve read. When I get several pings with the same theme, it gets me thinking.
A good friend who was recently widowed is going through a major downsizing effort. Rather than have an auction, he decided to hire what I consider something new: an “estate sale manager” for lack of a better title. I’m not even sure what they actually call themselves. It was, he shared, quite the eye-opening experience.
That set of formal glasses he and his wife had bought early in their marriage, along with the china place settings that their kids don’t want, have practically no value. A piano that he was assured would only appreciate in value over the years — turns out it did not. His wife was an accomplished musician and had shelves full of sheet music and books. He was encouraged to find a school that would take them as a donation. He likes to read and had a small collection of books. The recycling center was recommended.
Was there anything in your sale that went higher than you’d expected? Any good surprises? That brought a very quick and definitive “no” from my friend.
“I was warned,” he told me. The sale manager told him that he was in a unique position. “Most people’s stuff is sold by the kids after they’re gone,” he was told, and hence they never learn how little value their “valuables” have.
I shared that with my wife, who informed me that our kids have already expressed little interest in at least some of our “stuff” — particularly the good china that was on our bridal registry lists and carefully added to over the years.
Shortly thereafter, our (part-time) associate pastor shared in a Sunday message about his full-time job of being a hospice chaplain … how his patients have some things in common and some things not so much in common. Some are surrounded by family and some are not. Often, those without any family have something else: a lot of “stuff.” You can surmise the point of that sermon.
In the wake of that, I was doing my morning back-stretching and strengthening exercises in my usual spot — in our basement family room, right next to a wall full of bookshelves chock full of books my wife or I have read and wanted to keep.
Having grown up in homes that each had a full set of the Encyclopedia Americana, we had purchased early in our marriage a set we thought would be a key component in our children’s education. (“What’s an encyclopedia?” someone younger asked in a recent conversation. “Our generation’s Google,” someone older replied. But indeed, I digress.) Those were disposed of at least a couple decades ago but a 20-some-volume matched set of matched classics (titles such as “Crime and Punishment,” “The Odyssey” and “The Iliad”) that had been thrown in on the deal as a “bonus” remain on a top shelf. I’m sure they’ve impressed some guests over the years. (Sarcasm alert.) They have not, I can share, been read despite frequent self-pledges to do so.
I joined a golf-focused book club a number of years ago and have what I think is a pretty neat collection. My interest in American history, from the revolutionary period to the Civil War to World War II, is apparent. And Kathy’s favorite series of books occupy her shelves.
“What a bunch of stuff we’ve collected over the years,” I thought one morning while stretching some particularly troublesome bones and muscles. “And it is all quite worthless, I am sure.”
Another wall in that room is filled with family pictures, including several of our three sons at various stages in life. You cannot miss the three large groupings of their three weddings. The largest portrait includes the grandkids. Of course. When I compare that wall with the wall of bookshelves, there’s no contest. I am reminded of our pastor’s contrasting patients.
We take so many things for granted, I was reminded in another conversation this week, and if we’re not careful, we and our children can easily get a feeling of being entitled to the stuff we’ve accumulated.
But even though I now know the stuff that is valuable to us holds little value to others — literally — that really doesn’t matter. It is good to be reminded from time to time as to what does matter.
miller@news-banner.com
