Sheila Bean Article and Photos

One day I popped it on and have worn it almost every day since. I’ ve repaired it twice. It feels good on my finger.

But when I’ m ready to shuffle off this mortal coil, will his ring matter to anyone? Does that matter?

Throughout adulthood we accumulate all we need, plus silk scarves, placemats, vacation knickknacks, trophies, and gold-rimmed teacups that can’ t go into the dishwasher. Our children’ s toys and artwork. Birthday cards. Forgotten for years in a box in the basement, they emerge every decade or so to be fondly turned over in our hands.

I’ ve perused tables of unwanted baubles at garage sales and estate sales, I’ ve nodded my head at the wisdom of Swedish death cleaning( decluttering before you die), and I’ ve helped clear out elderly relatives’ homes. One person’ s treasures do not always spark joy for others. That wall plaque for thirty-eight years of employment? Gone.

At my own house, I’ ve chucked photos, and I’ ve mailed ancient letters back to the people who sent them, so they can time-travel back to the 1980s. But I have miles to go before I sleep.

How can we honour our elders and their valued belongings without running a family museum? How can we curate and cull our possessions so they don ' t become an enormous headache for the people who inherit it all? We can use things and enjoy them. We can repurpose them. Maybe give them to a thrift shop. Or— no judgment— toss them out.

Passing along belongings while we’ re alive is often called“ giving with a warm hand.”( This goes for money, too, which never seems to be a burden!) I might send a photo of a specific item to a friend or relative and briefly explain its significance.

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