Cleaning up after your parents is a gift you give to them: look at it like them paying it forward for all the times the cleaned up after you as a child.
Psychologically, mentally, and physically, parents can have difficulty tidying up their stuff. My friend’s parents came from very poor backgrounds and had a lot of trash. The father had a shed full of stuff that was useful to him - he knew what was in it and how to use it. When the father died, the stuff in the shed was mostly junk to be sorted into scrap metal or put in the skip. A very few useful tools, a bunch of valueless obsolete tools, and a little antique/collectable stuff. The mother’s stuff was useful or precious to her, mementoes and knick-knacks. Plus some hoarder mentality that made sense given her background. Mostly valueless stuff to anyone else. What value is a drawer of your smalls?
I want my parents to pass their problem down to me and my siblings. I think forcing parents to tidy up or downsize can be cruel. Why be selfish and needlessly make my parents sad?
Synopsis of "The Gentle Art of Swedish Death Cleaning" by Margareta Magnusson.
In Sweden there is a kind of decluttering called döstädning, dö meaning “death” and städning meaning “cleaning.” This surprising and invigorating process of clearing out unnecessary belongings can be undertaken at any age or life stage but should be done sooner than later, before others have to do it for you. In The Gentle Art of Swedish Death Cleaning, artist Margareta Magnusson, with Scandinavian humor and wisdom, instructs readers to embrace minimalism. Her radical and joyous method for putting things in order helps families broach sensitive conversations, and makes the process uplifting rather than overwhelming.
Swedish garages are never used for cars. Their only purpose is to hold a whole lot of trash that "you may need some day". I've visited lots of houses when I was on the market, nearly all of them had a garage or basement completely full of what to me looks like trash (as the article says, to the owners, it's old stuff that has some sentimental value, of course).
When FiL passed away there were multiple buildings on their 50 acres full of stuff. Both he and MiL were only children. Everything over 200 yrs had flowed to them.
“Priceless heirlooms” weren’t of interest to anyone. Auctions led to junk dealers. There is a hopelessness in realizing that lifetimes of activity were of little value, that nobody even knew what many objects were.
I felt like the girl in the movie Labyrinth when they weigh her down w worldly possessions. There’s no way to train for it. It’s like the Kipple of Philip K Dick.
Oh yes, we had a few of these accumulators on my wife's side of the family. It's like the depression created an entire generation that couldn't bear to throw anything away.
Five giant boxes of rags. Every tax return back to 1942. Every disposable coffee cup sleeve. Presents, never opened. Dresses, last worn in the 1980s. Every little white table-shaped thing that comes in a takeaway pizza box. 20 of the same wrench, all rusty. The old front door knob, long since replaced. Unopened, in-box power tools from the 1960s. Boxes of their own parents' stuff they never sorted through. 72 boxes of piano sheet music. All in a tiny post-war 3 bed family house. It took us 2 years to get through it all.
I feel a bit that way about my life’s accumulation of books. I suspect that the vast majority will end up getting donated to the library book sale after I die (plenty of worn and ancient paperbacks). I have made a point of pre-segregating the books that will likely have a notable resale value, but those are not many. Perhaps when I’m older but not too old I may spend some time trying to connect some of the specialized sub-collections with individual collectors who will treasure them as I did.
I thinking it was the Canadian sitcom "Kims Convenience" that had the excellent line from the father when he was cleaning out his basement with his son:
"We're putting things into two piles, one we're throwing away now and the other you throw away when your mother and I have died."
First thing I did was take a bunch of photos. One of the things that had meaning wasn't the individual items, but the assemblage of the whole: the choices made in the arrangement of tools in the workshop, projects being worked on, the "look and feel" of the house. After that I felt I could "disassemble" things without losing too much: in the process getting rid of cruft and keeping other stuff.
A big part of the job was "reverse engineering" the things the deceased knew but I didn't, and I could no longer ask about. That random key? Can it go out, or is it irreplaceable and belongs to something that matters?
In my mind the best thing a person can do to ease the clean up is leave current documentation. Little things like labeling keys and making sure documents have dates. The things in your head that others can't know.
I get this if one of your parents was a bad painter and filled the house with huge framed canvases. Otherwise, I'm just looking for stuff I want, and anything that I know was meant for posterity and few people would care about (my father updates a family tree, for example.) After that, call a professional and sell the lot to them i.e. the thing that these people mention not doing.
You may "lose" your parents if you don't have all of their stuff (I'm not sure what that means, but the article keeps saying it), but luckily, the odds are you won't have to live without them for more than another 20-30 years.
If that stuff outlived your parents, that means that it served its purpose well. Let somebody else buy it off ebay from an estate liquidator so it will create more happiness in the world, rather than hoarding it, which is the impulse I really suspect these situations are feeding.
I have brought up in hypotheticals to anyone who might be lumbered with them after my untimely passing the best ways to liquidate a lot of board games without getting pennies on the dollar. My only actual worry about my (physical) estate is that my heirs may get ripped off while dumping it.
I can't really think of much I'd want from my parents house. Maybe a few items with family history. But mostly, it is like you said -- they've mostly got their stuff for a reason, and if it serves them well for as long as they need it, then it has already met and likely exceeded expectations.
On the other hand, one step removed I think it makes more sense, because you have maybe less direct contact with the person -- I've got a microscope and and oil stone from my grandfather, which have some significant sentimental value to me. These were almost certainly obsolete when I got them, more than a couple years ago (Well, the microscope at least. An oil stone will last you a while). I think I value these because he was a very precise, but also very down-to-earth guy. That's my summary, having had limited time with him. My mom would not be able to sum up his whole personality in two items, because she has a much more full view of it. But, despite knowing that this stuff holds only the slightest outline of his personality, it really does mean a lot to me.
Generational differences in tastes will take its toll on some of this more than other bits. I don't know anyone under the age of 40 who cares one bit about fine china and china cabinets. As more and more people who collected china die off, there's a bigger glut of it. Collections that took a lifetime and thousands of dollars to accumulate end up going for pennies at estate sales while the cabinets end up in a landfill. Pianos seem to be going the same way. Probably grandfather clocks too. There are some younger folks who are interested in these things but not enough to sop up the ever increasing supply coming in from estates.
Oh no, this reminds me that I have a box in my basement with my grandparents' wedding china that they got in the 1940's or something. My dad gave me the box, and I'm not allowed to throw the thing away as long as he lives.
But it's completely useless. It's pretty, but you can't ever use it. It's not dishwasher safe, it's extremely fragile, and I cannot imagine ever hosting some kind of event where it would be appropriate to bust it out. Hell, I don't even know if my grandparents ever used it, or if it was just a thing that you "should" collect, and therefore they collected it.
It feels like a waste to just throw it out, but I realize you're right, there's not gonna be a market for things like this ten, twenty, years from now.
Pianos don't age well. Antique pianos either need an incredible amount of money spending on them to restore or they are furniture at best. Most pianos were cheap when new and are worth negative money once they are old.
I feel like having the fine china in your house is a flex, like you're saying "my home is so big I have space to fill it with a bunch of dishware I never use." From my vantage point today it seems as if status symbols were a much bigger deal back then. I considered getting rock countertops for my kitchen at one point, but I realized that a) I don't actually care if my countertops are plastic and b) none of my friends care either. Same with fine china- it wouldn't actually impress anyone very much. The biggest flex you could make in the present day would be to tell your friends that your college debts were paid off.
I bet house price inflation is a factor. Pianos, china cabinets, and grandfather clocks are all a major pain to move and aren't worth owning until you have purchased your forever home.
My father's family lost everything in the Great Depression. His earliest memories were of moving out of the mansion into successively smaller houses. My mom is the daughter of refugees who often went hungry in their early years in the US. When I was growing up in the 80s, we lived in relatively wealth, but I thought we were poor. We had economizing rituals that are laughable in retrospect: we'd save everything including used tin cans, we would share a single teabag for making tea at breakfast, nothing ever got replaced if it could be fixed (Dad still keeps an 1980s-era microwave working, although over the years he's had to replace half the components on the main board).
My parents' house is now probably worth millions. They had careers and have savings and are living out a very comfortable retirement. There's a house full of stuff that I'll have to deal with one day. It will be hard, but I will try to look at it as a meditation on the challeneges they went through and how they coped.
I expect one of the hardest parts to be books. I was raised to think of books as practically sacred. Every inch of the house is stacked deep in books: art books, science books, old books, mass market books ... Libraries might want 1% of them, but they'd sell the others at fundraisers for a nickel or maybe just send them off to be pulped.
There's also my dad's old computer stuff. I think there's a PDP-11 rotting in the garage. When I was a kid, there was a big old analog computer out there. I suspect these will be re-homable.
Recently had this experience. It helped me to consider it this way:
An old stage theatre has finally closed, after nearly a century in operation. I had the task of emptying the prop room. Going through it, I found very recognizable things from shows I knew and loved. Also some things I maybe remembered, but not sure what script it supported. And lots of stuff, no idea why it was there or what show it was in.
Anyway, it's just props. The actors have done their lines, the shows long finished their runs, the audiences come and gone. The important part, the only part that really stays with us is the memory of the performances and how that changes us.
So sure, keep a prop or two if they are particularly commemerative. But don't worry about the rest. They can move on to another performance in another theatre elsewhere, or even the bonfire if that's their fate. Others should have them if they find them useful for their audiences.
I feel like these days, stuff is incredibly cheap and therefore it's very easy to accumulate a huge amount of it. Sure, we have out sentimental items and useful tools we use everyday. But a huge amount goes un-used, sitting in boxes, closets, attics and garages waiting to be thrown away.
I try to "live small". My apartment is relatively small. I'm still wearing clothes from high-school. I still the knife, fork and spoon I bought when I moved out on my own. When something breaks I mend it, replace it or turn it into something new. I'm not a hardcore minimalist, far from it. But there is great joy in having enough.
After having to deal with all the stuff my parents left behind I swore to myself that I would not do the same thing to my kids.
It's easy to say "just throw it out" but so many items have nostalgia and memories attached. Yet if I hadn't had to sort through it all, I never would have missed that stuff.
Where I live we have 'council clean-up' days. It's a designated day once per year you can leave a reasonable amount of rubbish outside your house including old furniture, tools, utensils etc etc. The good thing is it's widely advertised and if you sort your stuff out properly and lay it out in an organised manner, lots of amateur collectors will come and take it away to re-sell or re-use leaving only a small amount of true rubbish for the council to actually pick up (3 days later than the advertised day).
I am fortunate to live in a country where there are lots of people below me on the totem pole. There is a delighted recipient for literally everything we have outgrown.
Pretty much everyday is council day here - you can leave whatever you like, whenever you like, by the kerb and it'll be gone by lunchtime. While it's painful to see so much need, it's gratifying that everything finds a new home where it will be used.
[broken stuff is especially in demand - it can be fixed and reused - there's an active trade in collecting broken appliances. Large stuff, like furniture will be collected by charity organisations.]
I suspect a surprising amount of stuff put on the street ends up with hoarders.
If I am putting stuff on the street, I try to trickle it out over the day, to spread the love, and hopefully avoid it all going to one person. The best is when it goes to someone who obviously needs it: perhaps a recent refugee immigrant, or a broke-arse single mum.
Picking up “valuable” stuff is a vice, so I try to only collect what is immediately useful to me or friends. It is however surprising the junk that people will take.
Me too with a sad twist: no matter how often I put a sign on my council kerbside collection e-waste saying "works" some metal scavenger on a copper hunt cuts the powercord and moves on. They're trashing value to extract the one bit they care about.
In Amsterdam we have a Facebook Group called "Amsterdam Deelt/Geeft (Shares/Gives)" with 40k+ members. Almost anything you put up there is picked up within 24hrs by a very happy new owner!
I must have given a way over 50 items through this page. It is really nice that you can see the happiness of the person who will benefit from what you don't need anymore.
We went through this ten years ago with my wife's dad. He had a lot of stuff, but he had a lot of hobbies...there was relatively little "junk," and he used a lot of it until just a year or two before he passed. Some of it went to fellow hobbyists. Some went into storage. The stuff we just couldn't deal with were sold, along with the house, to a professional flipper who conducted an estate sale, hauled the rest away, and remodeled and sold the house.
My mom was smart, for the most part. My parents weren't really big into accumulating stuff, beyond what people without many hobbies accumulate over the years. Twenty years after my dad passed, my mom downsized before she sold the house and moved into and independent living community. We got professional help downsizing further when she moved from independent living to assisted living, and finally got rid of almost everything else when she went into memory care. As much as she'd gotten rid of, she still had an amazing amount of stuff. It was a little easier doing it in stages, I suppose.
I watched a friend have to deal with this. There’s just so much to sort through or get rid of.
My grandfather left dozens of model airplanes behind. No one in the family flies them. Most of the people he used to fly them with died before he did. Fortunately, my grandmother is still alive and we’ve found people who would appreciate the planes.
We could have just burned everything but we have emotional ties to these things.
If you are in a niche, plan to get rid of it BEFORE you get old. Please, there are collectors, and stuff!
I just got four new to me toolboxes, from my neighbor who was a diesel mechanic. Perfectly good after a bit of sanding and oiling. They're awesome, from the 80s, well made, and they'll keep me going for a long time.
My father, a prodigious collector of oddities has done several wholsale removals of collections.
One comes to mind in parcticular - every single novel, novella, newspaper clipping and piece of paper of "E Phillip Oppenheim", a turn of the century paperback novelist who wrote hundreds of books and stories. Some guy drove out, gave him a nominal amount (a pittance for all the work done), but another avid collector.
Somewhere Indiana Jones of the paperback detective world is screaming "This belongs in a museum!"
Around a decade ago I saw an old guy flying one of those (some biplane replica) off of a racetrack for the runway in a school field and asked him what he thought of these newfangled drones and his reply was "I'll shoot them down!"
My mother is very pragmatic about this. She took me and my brother aside and (to paraphrase) said "You don't need sentimental a attachment to these things. Keep a few bits if you want, get rid of everything else. But this, this and this are valuable and you should get them properly appraised and then use the money for something you need. The rest shift as you want."
As someone who's fairly minimal (and definitely doesn't like clutter) it was lovely to hear and has (somewhat!) relaxed me. I'm definitely the kind of person who would have felt guilty about shifting the things she has chosen to surround herself with otherwise.
Be careful with appraisers. They essentially make money by making you feel like your collection of stuff is worth something and worth insuring. If you get things appraised multiple times over many years, you better believe that they will come up with higher values each year, otherwise you won't feel good about continuing to use that appraiser in the future.
Then when you actually try to sell the item(s), you will discover that they are only worth what someone will pay you for them (minus the time it takes to find the buyer and manage the transaction).
The "good china" that they got for their wedding with the fancy pattern - no younger people want it, especially if it's not in great condition and complete. The silverware is only worth something if they are solid silver - for their value to melt down - not as cutlery or a collectable (and those knives - the handles are hollow).
My dad had a brief encounter with a coma and it really brought the mountain of his belongings to the forefront of my mind. Books, comics, baseball cards, knives, guns, and other collectibles. Where he stores all this is a giant building that looks like a barn.
After his coma I talked to him about my fears of dealing with this and the issues I had trying to reverse engineer his finances from QuickBooks. He was actually very receptive, and it was an opportunity for him to share his thoughts on life and death with me. Since then he's earmarked or given away a lot of things, and the building is much more organized.
If you find yourself in a situation like the article, don't wait until someone died to deal with those things. In my dad's coma, I observed my own mental state; everything I saw was a collection of memories of my dad, I couldn't fathom if he passed what to do with all of it (and my mother would need to move). I had no hierarchy that correlated things that remind me of him and things that were valuable to him. Those things were impossible to know without a conversation.
> If you find yourself in a situation like the article, don't wait until someone died to deal with those things.
You may not have a choice in the matter. My own dad is 75, my mom passed away two years ago. I've tried several times to nudge him in the direction of dealing with some of his stuff, but he's not interested at all. He's not willing to part with any of mom's things because I think he feels like that would be some kind of betrayal of her memory. I hope he'll get better about that with time, but there are still plenty of things that are "his" that he doesn't want to let go of. We had a debate just a few weeks ago about a push mower that's been used maybe twice in the last decade. I told him that he should sell it or give it away while it can still be useful to someone, he insisted that he might need it someday. He won't... he has a riding mower and weed eater for maintaining his yard, and he's almost at the point where he can't use them. My parents weren't hoarders by any means, but they both grew up poor in the 1950s which left its mark on them, and living in the same home for nearly 50 years gives you the chance to accumulate a lot of stuff.
My dad was born at the beginning of the Great Depression. He told me once about being unable to buy thread, not because they didn't have the money, but because there was no thread to buy - all the thread factories had closed. You had to re-use thread.
Now imagine that that was all you had known for your entire life up to that point. And you had no idea that it would ever be different. That would shape you.
My dad was a hoarder, at least partly because of that. When he saw something that he could possibly use in some way, he kept it.
My dad died earlier this month. I'm getting to clean up the mess. It's not fun. I don't like it. I find it rather depressing that he spent so much effort collecting so much that has so little value. But I can understand why he did.
I wonder what effect the narrow, intermittent shortages of the past 2+ years is going to have on what had been the minimalizing generations.
Before 2020: having more than a few rolls of toilet paper and an extra bottle of cooking and olive oil seemed excessive - I have three grocery stores within walking distance!
Now: we always have two month's worth of toilet paper, and are currently glad that we started stocking cooking oil, because the cheapest available is 5 EUR/liter.
Plus all the little-to-major electronics/amateur radio parts that have been really hard to get the last year or so...
I love getting rid of stuff. I've just packed up my apartment again, and my wife and I have under 5m3 of stuff, and that includes a couple of larger pieces of furniture, 7-8 framed pieces of art, a decently-sized toolbox, and a big TV. Most of the time we're away from our homebase anyway, so living out of two suitcases. It really means that our treasured items are treasured, as most have undergone several iterations of this slimming process.
It's not for everyone, and I'm not trying to make some larger moral point, but for me it always feels so cathartic to strip down the stuff and just be left with items that you actually really like
I have silly items of zero value, that my partner would throw in a heartbeat. I have wires and gadgets rarely used. And books they are not I inerested in. If I dropped tomorrow, my cooking pans and teddy bear would be all that remained!
We had seven days to clear my Dad's which was our family home. Not even enough time to review trinkets and resurface memories. A few useful items went to charity. The rest the scrap heap. And I was limited as to what I could take. I took a multimeter and, a drill, and a barometer. Could have done with some furniture, plants and other stuff, but it was just too bulky to deal with.
My Mum sits on a pile of organised rubbish. And shortly after she shuffles off, the lot will go in the bin.
But then, my family and I have nothing of value. Which does at least save on any squabbling.
Both my parents have and had loads and loads of stuff. My Dad had about five car carcasses. Three sheds of wood. And other junk. It's pretty selfish leaving others to deal with your shit. I know that sounds cold, but it ruins people.
What will happen to the heaps of digital junk stored on flash drives, hard drives, forgotten online accounts? I get overwhelmed thinking about organizing my own electronics files… wonder what my kids will do with it all.
“Oh. This one is encrypted too. I wonder what mum and dad kept on those… Ah well.”
I mean, with digital stuff all the things that may be worthwhile to pass on can be passed on easily way in advance because you don't have to get rid of anything to do so. Online accounts and such will just be forgotten excepting the ones they need to access to finish your affairs (like banking).
The good part about digital content is that you don't have to do absolutely anything with it.
Keep documents and photos accessible, forget the rest.
As we approach multi-generational widespread digital content "cloud" services, we'll see more and more companies allowing content to be easily passed over to the next generation — but just for reference.
I don't need my father’s iCloud photos, but it'd be nice to take a scroll in 20 years.
[+] [-] robocat|3 years ago|reply
Psychologically, mentally, and physically, parents can have difficulty tidying up their stuff. My friend’s parents came from very poor backgrounds and had a lot of trash. The father had a shed full of stuff that was useful to him - he knew what was in it and how to use it. When the father died, the stuff in the shed was mostly junk to be sorted into scrap metal or put in the skip. A very few useful tools, a bunch of valueless obsolete tools, and a little antique/collectable stuff. The mother’s stuff was useful or precious to her, mementoes and knick-knacks. Plus some hoarder mentality that made sense given her background. Mostly valueless stuff to anyone else. What value is a drawer of your smalls?
I want my parents to pass their problem down to me and my siblings. I think forcing parents to tidy up or downsize can be cruel. Why be selfish and needlessly make my parents sad?
[+] [-] tmountain|3 years ago|reply
Synopsis of "The Gentle Art of Swedish Death Cleaning" by Margareta Magnusson.
In Sweden there is a kind of decluttering called döstädning, dö meaning “death” and städning meaning “cleaning.” This surprising and invigorating process of clearing out unnecessary belongings can be undertaken at any age or life stage but should be done sooner than later, before others have to do it for you. In The Gentle Art of Swedish Death Cleaning, artist Margareta Magnusson, with Scandinavian humor and wisdom, instructs readers to embrace minimalism. Her radical and joyous method for putting things in order helps families broach sensitive conversations, and makes the process uplifting rather than overwhelming.
https://www.simonandschuster.com/books/The-Gentle-Art-of-Swe...
[+] [-] brabel|3 years ago|reply
[+] [-] shakezula|3 years ago|reply
[+] [-] flybrand|3 years ago|reply
“Priceless heirlooms” weren’t of interest to anyone. Auctions led to junk dealers. There is a hopelessness in realizing that lifetimes of activity were of little value, that nobody even knew what many objects were.
I felt like the girl in the movie Labyrinth when they weigh her down w worldly possessions. There’s no way to train for it. It’s like the Kipple of Philip K Dick.
[+] [-] jahewson|3 years ago|reply
Five giant boxes of rags. Every tax return back to 1942. Every disposable coffee cup sleeve. Presents, never opened. Dresses, last worn in the 1980s. Every little white table-shaped thing that comes in a takeaway pizza box. 20 of the same wrench, all rusty. The old front door knob, long since replaced. Unopened, in-box power tools from the 1960s. Boxes of their own parents' stuff they never sorted through. 72 boxes of piano sheet music. All in a tiny post-war 3 bed family house. It took us 2 years to get through it all.
[+] [-] dhosek|3 years ago|reply
[+] [-] astrange|3 years ago|reply
Well, it's true. They are priceless, as in worthless.
Those are usually things like furniture that could be valuable to someone in the area, but the cost of moving them is enough to make it worthless.
[+] [-] HFguy|3 years ago|reply
[+] [-] danielodievich|3 years ago|reply
[+] [-] helsinkiandrew|3 years ago|reply
"We're putting things into two piles, one we're throwing away now and the other you throw away when your mother and I have died."
[+] [-] thedailymail|3 years ago|reply
[+] [-] femto|3 years ago|reply
A big part of the job was "reverse engineering" the things the deceased knew but I didn't, and I could no longer ask about. That random key? Can it go out, or is it irreplaceable and belongs to something that matters?
In my mind the best thing a person can do to ease the clean up is leave current documentation. Little things like labeling keys and making sure documents have dates. The things in your head that others can't know.
[+] [-] pessimizer|3 years ago|reply
You may "lose" your parents if you don't have all of their stuff (I'm not sure what that means, but the article keeps saying it), but luckily, the odds are you won't have to live without them for more than another 20-30 years.
If that stuff outlived your parents, that means that it served its purpose well. Let somebody else buy it off ebay from an estate liquidator so it will create more happiness in the world, rather than hoarding it, which is the impulse I really suspect these situations are feeding.
I have brought up in hypotheticals to anyone who might be lumbered with them after my untimely passing the best ways to liquidate a lot of board games without getting pennies on the dollar. My only actual worry about my (physical) estate is that my heirs may get ripped off while dumping it.
[+] [-] bee_rider|3 years ago|reply
On the other hand, one step removed I think it makes more sense, because you have maybe less direct contact with the person -- I've got a microscope and and oil stone from my grandfather, which have some significant sentimental value to me. These were almost certainly obsolete when I got them, more than a couple years ago (Well, the microscope at least. An oil stone will last you a while). I think I value these because he was a very precise, but also very down-to-earth guy. That's my summary, having had limited time with him. My mom would not be able to sum up his whole personality in two items, because she has a much more full view of it. But, despite knowing that this stuff holds only the slightest outline of his personality, it really does mean a lot to me.
[+] [-] ars|3 years ago|reply
[+] [-] Mountain_Skies|3 years ago|reply
[+] [-] henrikschroder|3 years ago|reply
But it's completely useless. It's pretty, but you can't ever use it. It's not dishwasher safe, it's extremely fragile, and I cannot imagine ever hosting some kind of event where it would be appropriate to bust it out. Hell, I don't even know if my grandparents ever used it, or if it was just a thing that you "should" collect, and therefore they collected it.
It feels like a waste to just throw it out, but I realize you're right, there's not gonna be a market for things like this ten, twenty, years from now.
[+] [-] lebski88|3 years ago|reply
[+] [-] fallingfrog|3 years ago|reply
[+] [-] BeFlatXIII|3 years ago|reply
[+] [-] maerF0x0|3 years ago|reply
[+] [-] ncpa-cpl|3 years ago|reply
Definitely. My parents house has a china cabinet, with china dishes no-one is allowed to use. I've never understood why, I'll ask them tonight.
[+] [-] pfdietz|3 years ago|reply
[+] [-] angst_ridden|3 years ago|reply
My parents' house is now probably worth millions. They had careers and have savings and are living out a very comfortable retirement. There's a house full of stuff that I'll have to deal with one day. It will be hard, but I will try to look at it as a meditation on the challeneges they went through and how they coped.
I expect one of the hardest parts to be books. I was raised to think of books as practically sacred. Every inch of the house is stacked deep in books: art books, science books, old books, mass market books ... Libraries might want 1% of them, but they'd sell the others at fundraisers for a nickel or maybe just send them off to be pulped.
There's also my dad's old computer stuff. I think there's a PDP-11 rotting in the garage. When I was a kid, there was a big old analog computer out there. I suspect these will be re-homable.
[+] [-] madengr|3 years ago|reply
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[+] [-] JoeAltmaier|3 years ago|reply
An old stage theatre has finally closed, after nearly a century in operation. I had the task of emptying the prop room. Going through it, I found very recognizable things from shows I knew and loved. Also some things I maybe remembered, but not sure what script it supported. And lots of stuff, no idea why it was there or what show it was in.
Anyway, it's just props. The actors have done their lines, the shows long finished their runs, the audiences come and gone. The important part, the only part that really stays with us is the memory of the performances and how that changes us.
So sure, keep a prop or two if they are particularly commemerative. But don't worry about the rest. They can move on to another performance in another theatre elsewhere, or even the bonfire if that's their fate. Others should have them if they find them useful for their audiences.
Thinking about that helped frame it for me.
[+] [-] laurieg|3 years ago|reply
I try to "live small". My apartment is relatively small. I'm still wearing clothes from high-school. I still the knife, fork and spoon I bought when I moved out on my own. When something breaks I mend it, replace it or turn it into something new. I'm not a hardcore minimalist, far from it. But there is great joy in having enough.
[+] [-] SoftTalker|3 years ago|reply
It's easy to say "just throw it out" but so many items have nostalgia and memories attached. Yet if I hadn't had to sort through it all, I never would have missed that stuff.
I need to get on it. I'm not getting younger.
[+] [-] eddy_chan|3 years ago|reply
[+] [-] bruce511|3 years ago|reply
Pretty much everyday is council day here - you can leave whatever you like, whenever you like, by the kerb and it'll be gone by lunchtime. While it's painful to see so much need, it's gratifying that everything finds a new home where it will be used.
[broken stuff is especially in demand - it can be fixed and reused - there's an active trade in collecting broken appliances. Large stuff, like furniture will be collected by charity organisations.]
[+] [-] robocat|3 years ago|reply
If I am putting stuff on the street, I try to trickle it out over the day, to spread the love, and hopefully avoid it all going to one person. The best is when it goes to someone who obviously needs it: perhaps a recent refugee immigrant, or a broke-arse single mum.
Picking up “valuable” stuff is a vice, so I try to only collect what is immediately useful to me or friends. It is however surprising the junk that people will take.
[+] [-] ggm|3 years ago|reply
[+] [-] wilgertvelinga|3 years ago|reply
I must have given a way over 50 items through this page. It is really nice that you can see the happiness of the person who will benefit from what you don't need anymore.
[+] [-] themadturk|3 years ago|reply
My mom was smart, for the most part. My parents weren't really big into accumulating stuff, beyond what people without many hobbies accumulate over the years. Twenty years after my dad passed, my mom downsized before she sold the house and moved into and independent living community. We got professional help downsizing further when she moved from independent living to assisted living, and finally got rid of almost everything else when she went into memory care. As much as she'd gotten rid of, she still had an amazing amount of stuff. It was a little easier doing it in stages, I suppose.
[+] [-] kayodelycaon|3 years ago|reply
My grandfather left dozens of model airplanes behind. No one in the family flies them. Most of the people he used to fly them with died before he did. Fortunately, my grandmother is still alive and we’ve found people who would appreciate the planes.
We could have just burned everything but we have emotional ties to these things.
[+] [-] calvinmorrison|3 years ago|reply
I just got four new to me toolboxes, from my neighbor who was a diesel mechanic. Perfectly good after a bit of sanding and oiling. They're awesome, from the 80s, well made, and they'll keep me going for a long time.
My father, a prodigious collector of oddities has done several wholsale removals of collections.
One comes to mind in parcticular - every single novel, novella, newspaper clipping and piece of paper of "E Phillip Oppenheim", a turn of the century paperback novelist who wrote hundreds of books and stories. Some guy drove out, gave him a nominal amount (a pittance for all the work done), but another avid collector.
Somewhere Indiana Jones of the paperback detective world is screaming "This belongs in a museum!"
[+] [-] jamal-kumar|3 years ago|reply
[+] [-] unknown|3 years ago|reply
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[+] [-] iamben|3 years ago|reply
As someone who's fairly minimal (and definitely doesn't like clutter) it was lovely to hear and has (somewhat!) relaxed me. I'm definitely the kind of person who would have felt guilty about shifting the things she has chosen to surround herself with otherwise.
[+] [-] s1mon|3 years ago|reply
Then when you actually try to sell the item(s), you will discover that they are only worth what someone will pay you for them (minus the time it takes to find the buyer and manage the transaction).
The "good china" that they got for their wedding with the fancy pattern - no younger people want it, especially if it's not in great condition and complete. The silverware is only worth something if they are solid silver - for their value to melt down - not as cutlery or a collectable (and those knives - the handles are hollow).
[+] [-] kodah|3 years ago|reply
After his coma I talked to him about my fears of dealing with this and the issues I had trying to reverse engineer his finances from QuickBooks. He was actually very receptive, and it was an opportunity for him to share his thoughts on life and death with me. Since then he's earmarked or given away a lot of things, and the building is much more organized.
If you find yourself in a situation like the article, don't wait until someone died to deal with those things. In my dad's coma, I observed my own mental state; everything I saw was a collection of memories of my dad, I couldn't fathom if he passed what to do with all of it (and my mother would need to move). I had no hierarchy that correlated things that remind me of him and things that were valuable to him. Those things were impossible to know without a conversation.
[+] [-] Merad|3 years ago|reply
You may not have a choice in the matter. My own dad is 75, my mom passed away two years ago. I've tried several times to nudge him in the direction of dealing with some of his stuff, but he's not interested at all. He's not willing to part with any of mom's things because I think he feels like that would be some kind of betrayal of her memory. I hope he'll get better about that with time, but there are still plenty of things that are "his" that he doesn't want to let go of. We had a debate just a few weeks ago about a push mower that's been used maybe twice in the last decade. I told him that he should sell it or give it away while it can still be useful to someone, he insisted that he might need it someday. He won't... he has a riding mower and weed eater for maintaining his yard, and he's almost at the point where he can't use them. My parents weren't hoarders by any means, but they both grew up poor in the 1950s which left its mark on them, and living in the same home for nearly 50 years gives you the chance to accumulate a lot of stuff.
[+] [-] AnimalMuppet|3 years ago|reply
Now imagine that that was all you had known for your entire life up to that point. And you had no idea that it would ever be different. That would shape you.
My dad was a hoarder, at least partly because of that. When he saw something that he could possibly use in some way, he kept it.
My dad died earlier this month. I'm getting to clean up the mess. It's not fun. I don't like it. I find it rather depressing that he spent so much effort collecting so much that has so little value. But I can understand why he did.
[+] [-] MandieD|3 years ago|reply
Before 2020: having more than a few rolls of toilet paper and an extra bottle of cooking and olive oil seemed excessive - I have three grocery stores within walking distance!
Now: we always have two month's worth of toilet paper, and are currently glad that we started stocking cooking oil, because the cheapest available is 5 EUR/liter.
Plus all the little-to-major electronics/amateur radio parts that have been really hard to get the last year or so...
[+] [-] petesergeant|3 years ago|reply
It's not for everyone, and I'm not trying to make some larger moral point, but for me it always feels so cathartic to strip down the stuff and just be left with items that you actually really like
[+] [-] HollowEyes|3 years ago|reply
We had seven days to clear my Dad's which was our family home. Not even enough time to review trinkets and resurface memories. A few useful items went to charity. The rest the scrap heap. And I was limited as to what I could take. I took a multimeter and, a drill, and a barometer. Could have done with some furniture, plants and other stuff, but it was just too bulky to deal with.
My Mum sits on a pile of organised rubbish. And shortly after she shuffles off, the lot will go in the bin.
But then, my family and I have nothing of value. Which does at least save on any squabbling.
Both my parents have and had loads and loads of stuff. My Dad had about five car carcasses. Three sheds of wood. And other junk. It's pretty selfish leaving others to deal with your shit. I know that sounds cold, but it ruins people.
[+] [-] vulcan1964|3 years ago|reply
[+] [-] Freak_NL|3 years ago|reply
I mean, with digital stuff all the things that may be worthwhile to pass on can be passed on easily way in advance because you don't have to get rid of anything to do so. Online accounts and such will just be forgotten excepting the ones they need to access to finish your affairs (like banking).
[+] [-] wonderbore|3 years ago|reply
The good part about digital content is that you don't have to do absolutely anything with it.
Keep documents and photos accessible, forget the rest.
As we approach multi-generational widespread digital content "cloud" services, we'll see more and more companies allowing content to be easily passed over to the next generation — but just for reference.
I don't need my father’s iCloud photos, but it'd be nice to take a scroll in 20 years.