sifting through the old things

Or, alternatively,  I could title it “sifting through the odd things”.

I remember looking at my mother’s old Tupperware, even before she got sick and thinking how old it was.  And how old was this, or that.  That thing there.

My things are much older now than when I was looking at her stuff.  And yup, things age.  I look at my face and I know that things, and people, age, people if we’re lucky, right?

I remember writing a short story about my college possessions that sat for months in a trunk in my dorm waiting to be sent back to my house.  That really happened, since I took off after my first semester senior year to go to Israel, since I couldn’t stand being away after the Yom Kippur War.  But the story personified the trunk and the stuff, if I recall.  And stuff tends to do that; it takes over.

My basement has been taken over by my father-in-law’s stuff.  We shoved it there after moving his stuff out of his assisted living place until we could sort it out to go to his nursing home.  Now that hopefully, he is getting out of rehab, he’ll need his stuff.  But the effort it will take to find what he needs out of the mess is enormous and daunting.  I certainly don’t want to tackle it, and really, it shouldn’t be me to do it.  Remember, I’m not the nice one.  I could, but I really don’t know what I’m looking for, and I would get so frustrated it wouldn’t be worth it.  So my husband, who is at his busiest season (other than Pesach, but really who can compare?), has to.

So I will reiterate to all of you, don’t keep the stuff.  Upload all your loose photos to a webpage so that you will know it’s there, even if your computer crashes.  And what else should you keep?  Old money that can’t be used?  Old hats from some place you went?

As they say in Quebec,

Je me souviens.

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