over the years, every time i've moved, some of my junk stuff beloved belongings has ended up in my parents' basement (they have a very big basement). the last move, which was undertaken as a poor student and involved crossing one of the world's major oceans and only as much overweight luggage as the airline was willing to take without charging extra (turned out to be 7 checked bags between two people), meant that a whole lot of stuff was left behind in my parents' basement.
it includes items as diverse as my archived wedding dress from the marriage to the starter husband to a very smart, very early 90s black & white suit that i would undoubtedly piss myself laughing at if i saw it now to books and CDs and photos and papers from the rhetoric course i took during my first year in college to an ancient mac that can do a cyrillic font. i think there's a box of barbie dolls and some collector's music boxes from the franklin mint (it was a phase). my saddle is there (probably more than one). the silver halter diamond h pansy won for overall grand champion mare in 1982 and which we bought from my horsetrainer so many years ago. knickknacks collected at flea markets. dishes. pots and pans. some of those plastic things you can make your own popsicles in.
from moves before that one, there are odds and ends of very student-y garage sale furniture, boxes of college sweatshirts and shoes and garishly colored bill cosby-inspired sweaters and about 600 pounds of trophies that i won with various horses throughout my childhood.
every time we're there, dad asks when i'm going to take all that stuff. and here's where we come to the secret. i'm not. never. ever. aside from a few of the books (i can't seem to locate my marxist collection) and some pictures i've been looking for that must be there and a certain trophy with a gold horse on top and a blue body that was the very first one i won with my pony merrylegs when i was sent into the show ring wearing little black & red pants and barely old enough to walk on my own, i'm not going to be loading up a container with all that crap stuff.
i suppose someday sabin will happen upon those boxes of clothes and find them to be charmingly vintage and then they will make the trip. but until then, they languish in my parents' basement and i'm sure they feel quite at home.
sharon, i know you're reading, and you're welcome to share this secret with dad. tho' i suspect he already knows it.
16 comments:
jejeje
That sounds like the attic in my parents house, where I am now permanently living. They keep moaning at me to clear my stuff out... but it's a huge mess up there. I'm sure I have some toys I can donate to my best friend's children.
Seriously, J, you'd make a killing on ebay with a lot of that stuff.
Maybe - the next time you're home - you can photograph the contents of the boxes so you have a record of what's there.
I am sure that one day you will have a great time going through it all ... I moved 8000 miles away two years ago - (That is VERY far when you are British!!) and trusted my Mum with all my belongings. I returned home to visit last year to discover that my Mum's house is now a full scale replica of my old one!
You have just described my auditorium (otherwise known as my barn). I was not able to leave all my stuff (if I did, I was to consider it gone), so it has followed me through college and two other homes via many UHauls. And I have had many "phases" (read accumulated a lot of crap). One of this summer's goals is to completely clean it out. Draining too much energy. But I am making a list of things I don't want to part with before delving into it, and that will be all that I can keep. I am told it will be liberating. But somehow I am worried that once it is gone that I will forget...
I just moved, I feel ya! I have loaded it all into the garage and I can't believe the piles of stuff, I just keep saying "what is all this stuff?", funny!
Trina
Be thrilled that you live across an Ocean. My parents are slowly bringing my *crap* / stuff to me as they come visit. Uggg ... why did they keep that stuff? I really don't want my poem from 8th grade. sigh
I think we all regret it if our parents throw our stuff and wish they would have if they didn't - can't win!
I just watched an episode of Friends where Monica's Dad had used her childhood memory boxes to stop the damp getting into the garage. He felt so guilty that he'd spoiled it all that he gave her his Porche ... There is hope!!
When I get rid of stuff the sense of freedom is unbelievable. It is as if I have gone trough an elaborate set of ritual purifications or something along the lines. ;)
My mom recently sent me my wedding dress from my "starter wedding." She had it dry cleaned and everything. What do I do with this thing? How liberating to be able to get rid of it or wear it for some outlandish thing, like being dunked in a dunk tank.
I totally sympathize with Just Jules. After my dad died my mother started sending us "packages" every so often. Things she's sent have ranged from the good (letters from my grandparents that have been dead for 16+ years) to the bad (proof of horrible mistake we'll call starter husband, in your honor of course) and everything in between.
One day you'll be seeing that stuff again...
Most of that stuff is under my bed at the moment. I haven't made a move by myself yet, so the basement will have to wait to devour all of my various odds and ends.
My stuff got lost when my parents moved - but now my KIDS' stuff is junking up our "spare room" (what used to be their bedroom). At least, now, your secret is out - (if your parents read this blog).
I'm so glad. I have a wood-robe full of things in my parents spare room and I swear I look at it every now and then and if mum has gotten rid of the smallest thing in there... lots of trouble! Every now and then I too wonder why I need an A3 framed portrait of Lassie, or 3 suitcases full of books I probably will never read, but hey, they are there just in case I do one day.
Of course you're familiar with the Dickens story of Christmas's past?
Beware the ghosts of Basement's Past. You cannot outrun that fate.
Puzzling, I was sure I'd commented! Great secret, I was forced to get rid of my'stuff' when our family home was sold. I miss my 'stuff' though, even though most of it was tat. I feel like my history is missing actually. I kept very very little, and I'm a terrible 'thrower awayer'...it's pretty minamalist round here. MrSpud's parents are horders and have EVERYTHING from his childhood. Somewhere in between is a happy medium I'm sure !
You are so lucky you're oceans away from that stuff and have a good excuse for not taking it. Living just a few blocks from my parents, I have had to assume possession of all of my old things. Somehow, about once a week I see that she has brought something else over to me!
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