Treasuring Garbage

I’m not a hoarder either in a clinical sense or in common parlance. My closets don’t overflow with clothes and boxes; there is ample free space in all of them. There is free space on every coffee table and end table surface; on a few there is nothing but free space. There is nothing piled on the floors of the house other than the carpets and furniture that should be there. I have quite a few books, but they all fit on shelves; I discussed my policy of limiting my library back in 2016 in Stacking the Stacks and maintain the same policy today. There aren’t curios in my home beyond relatively few items that have sentimental value, e.g. an oxen yoke made by my grandfather, a painting by my mom, war souvenirs from my dad, etc. My mom was very anti-clutter. She voiced the dictum, “When in doubt, throw it out” and she meant it. I keep more dubious things than she did, it must be said, but I inculcated enough of her disposition to dispose that my rooms, while not quite Spartan, are clutter-free.
 
There are two exceptions on my property: exceptions not covered by TV/YouTube decluttering gurus such as Mary Kondo. (Her “spark joy” test, which counts an item as a keeper only if it specifically brings the owner happiness – a family heirloom for example – nonetheless isn’t a bad one.) The exceptions are my barn and the attic space over the garage. Both are crammed with construction materials. Most (not all, but most) of the items were stored there by my father, who was a builder. He has been gone 21 years. (My mother has been gone 20, at which time the property became mine.) Much of the stuff had been transferred from the barn on my parents’ old property when they moved here in 1978. That previous barn was built in 1961, and at least some of the stored materials in the current barn date to then. The stored materials include mismatched screens, non-standard doors, mismatched pine trim, mismatched shutters, PVC drain pipes, mismatched cabinets, 50-year-old locks, literally a kitchen sink, backer board, aluminum gutters, mismatched windows, and much much more. He stashed them on the “I might use that someday” principle.
 
Why I still have them decades later is another question. The question has the same answers as from those who cling to household clutter. Misplaced sentimentality and a reluctance to let go of the past are two factors, but there is a bigger one. Denial of death might not be the first motive that springs to mind but many psychologists point to it. (The Pulitzer-winning The Denial of Death by Ernst Becker, the landmark text of Terror Management Theory, is worth a read, by the way, for its broader applicability.) “I might use that someday” is a way of saying “I will be here to use it.” We probably won’t be – or we wouldn’t be calling the stuff “clutter” in the first place. If there is stuff in my barn for which neither my dad nor I have found use in 20, 40, or (in some cases) 60 years, it is highly unlikely I will use it in the next 5, 10, 20, or whenever.
 
The Gentle Art of Swedish Death Cleaning by Swedish author and artist Margareta Magnusson faces the issue head on. Magnusson describes herself as "between age 80 and 100." (This is her first book, which may encourage some late bloomer authors out there.) She means what the title seems to mean: she keeps things of genuine sentimental value (to her) and things that she actually uses, but as an ongoing process she thins out other stuff that will just be a burden to heirs one day. She says in a YouTube video about the book, “One day when you’re not around anymore, your family would have to take care of all that stuff, and I don’t think that’s fair.” I must admit to being more selfish than that. Fairness to my heirs isn’t a big consideration for me. I like freedom from clutter for its own sake – a point she mentions as well. The work benches in my barn, for example, are far more useable without junk piled on top of them.

 
So a dumpster is arriving Tuesday – and perhaps one after that. The bulk of what is stored in my barn and attic will be gone for good. Not everything. I’m keeping the tools. Also the lumber. I’ll definitely make use of at least some of it. As for the rest, I might use that someday.
 

The Cramps – Garbage Man