reflections} stuff
stuff By Karen Ott Mayer
Mom called the other day and I noted a familiar exasperation in her voice. “I don’t know what I’m going to do with your father.” Even before asking, I knew where the conversation was going; It’s hard not to when two people have been married for over 50 years. I knew before her next sentence the conversation would circle around a topic so common for the modern family: Stuff. In the marital universe of comedic irony, my parents are diametrically opposed. My mother, a thrifty minimalist, likes order and no clutter. My father, a rather imaginative inventive sort whom I followed around the garage as a child, believes in hanging onto stuff because “you never know when you might need it.” Combined with the fact he has always been able to fix anything, he knows the value of that one part. As one of their four children, it’s been interesting to witness over the years. Talking with friends, what’s truly interesting is that my family’s scenario plays out all the time in other homes. Helping a friend this winter clean out an office, she lamented. “He wants to hang onto everything! If I put something at the curb, I have to do it when he’s not around or he’ll bring it back in the house.” His version of events? “Don’t show her that because she’ll throw it out!” We kids thought it humorous that my dad could go on a walk around the neighborhood and come home with the ability to decorate a room. Maybe an old rug, a table, a broken chair…whatever. For folks who view the world as my dad does, it’s impossible to let something that still has value---or can be fixed---go to waste. For my mother, she sees more junk. And 82 DeSoto
for those living in her court, they make a compelling argument against this sort of random acquisition. Salvagers generally collect so much stuff they have no idea what they have---nor could they possibly fix all the things they have acquired. They’re always going to get around to it when they have time. From my own salvage tendencies, I have found this to be an empty phrase. Perhaps the real sign of a serial acquirer can be found in their ability to actually find stuff. “Well, it’s here somewhere. I thought I had one…” Where real intervention becomes necessary is when the acquirer fails to find the thing---and then goes and buy a new one. For personalities like my mother’s, this can be nothing short of mind blowing. And then my phone rings. It’s that time of year when the whole stuff conversation could possibly be elevated in many lives. With more weddings, graduations and college moves happening, lots of stuff will be on the move---or not. The new wife will look at her new husband’s stuff and shake her head, as in my sister’s case. “His stuff was just so old and ugly.” Husbands will shake their heads at their new wives stuff. Endless hair stuff, make-up, shoes, eye lotions, skin potions and more will crowd out their new bathroom. Moving from a college dorm, a student may discover a Cheetos collection under the bed or that he bought way more books than he ever remembers. At the end of a semester or house closing or move, we all have the same question. “Where did all this stuff come from?” It’s the unanswerable question of our time.