Stuff for sale. Heartstrings included.

Since January- more than half a year ago- I’ve been working at it. I’ve been working with a new mindset, a new focus, a new direction.  Unlike other New Year’s resolutions, this one has stuck, and more than halfway through the calendar year, I feel like I’ve embraced my new attitude of buying less, sifting and sorting, and letting go of a lot of literal baggage that I’ve been carrying around for decades.

Now, don’t be fooled- our 2,838  sq. ft. home is still amply filled with all the stuff of modern living-  a big dining room with a long table, hutch, and six chairs; two different living room areas with sofas, overstuffed chairs, occasional tables and brick fireplaces (two!); two office spaces- his and hers; a sun porch for reading and dining; a big bedroom; a guest room; a kitchen that is perhaps a little aged, but still very functional, and a big two-bay garage… Our not-so-little-cabin is filled with nice things. Not expensive things, but nice things. Our “style” is not formal, and our furnishings reflect our tendency towards simple things, but, hey, there’s a lot of it.  A lot: The six-foot oak library table that we bought at an antiques store because it “spoke to us,” the lovely but rickety tea cart that was my grandmother’s, a piano that we don’t play often enough, a small pine bookcase built by my father, a 500-pound skate sharpening whetstone wheel that was once an item used faithfully each week, a heavy workbench in the “shop” that belonged to my husband’s father, and paintings- pictures of places that we have loved and created by people whom we love- hanging on the walls of each room.  I recognize our privilege reflected in the bounty of our stuff in this suburban cabin- and I am grateful.

This year’s quest for minimalism has really been about two things:  Not acquiring more stuff that I don’t need… and … getting rid of stuff that will not serve me in the future.  The first part hasn’t been too hard (though the frequency with which the Amazon truck still pulls into the driveway is alarmingly too often) but it’s the second part- getting rid of stuff- that has been challenging.  I’ve done it- but in some instances it has been nothing less than soul-wrenching.

Take yesterday’s neighborhood Yard Sale, for example.  Ummmm.  It was rough.

I had spent seven months sorting through the storage section of our basement and deciding which items I could put out in the yard for folks to purchase.  Eight margarita glasses.  Six champagne flutes. An oblong fish poacher that I use every other year.  A trifle dish. Fondue pot. Chafing dish liners and a big heavy circular brazier with lid.  These items- most of them related to my (former) life of catering and hosting big parties- were no-brainers. Into the yard sale pile they went.  Dozens of wine glasses. Several old chairs. Arts and Crafts materials, beads, and reams of beautiful colored, heavy weight paper. Empty sketch books. Vases. Platters. A travel case with room for a projector, laptop, markers, and flip chart stand from my “traveling canon” days.  Again, no brainers.  Out to the driveway with florescent pink price tags noting deep discounts!  But there were some things that had strings still attached to my heart:  an antique 40-piece set of ruby red glasses with crystal stems, tin cookie cutters from my days of baking at Christmas with our kids, a green fluted candy dish, a pewter tray that we got 39 years ago as a wedding gift, a domed terrarium that, in spite of the fact that I could never keep anything growing in it, still reminded me of the priest-friend who gave it to me.  These were hard things to sell.

But then, the day of the sale arrived.  I’d been away all week on a backpacking trip and arrived home the night before- tired, dirty and worn-out,  the sign of a successful backpacking adventure.  The garage was filled with all the yard sale items.  They were all priced.  All I had to do on Saturday was get up early and, with the help of my husband, drag them out for display on tables and a few large mats that we laid down in the driveway.

The sale was to begin at 8 AM.  Neighbors up and down the street were also preparing their goods for sale in their driveways.  I began setting up at 6 AM.  By 6:15 the first car drove up our (somewhat long and somewhat steep) drive and a man jumped out asking for video games.  Nope. None of those. Sorry. By the way, you are an hour and 45 minutes early.  At 6:30 another man wandered into the side yard, surprising me, (he approached by our neighbor’s driveway) and he started poking around.  Not yet through my first cup of coffee, I told him to come back at 7:00.  By 7:00 the yard was filled with people, there were cars parked up and down the street and, apparently, the sale had begun. It didn’t matter whether I’d finished my coffee or not.  Many of our items went fast.  They were priced to sell: Most things were one or two dollars.   But, despite the prices, folks wanted to bargain.  One box held a collection of art materials- all unused and in pristine condition- that, all together, was worth about $100.00. I was hoping for a classroom teacher to buy it. The price was $5.00.  A nice guy- but not the teacher I had in mind- offered me $3.00.  I swallowed hard.  I countered with $4.00.  He said he’d take it to his church. That made me feel better.  And so, off it went.  While I was loading it into his car, he picked up the fish poacher.  Wait. Did he pay me for that?  Ugh.  I waved them goodbye as they backed out of the drive.

There were folks who asked to pull their cars around on our (rain softened yard). No.  One man called out- as he trampled on the hostas planted under the pine trees in the front yard- that he remembered walking under these pines as a boy when the whole neighborhood was a pine grove. Hmm.   It was a bit of a mad-rush that was a little overwhelming, but it was the scrutinizing of my stuff, my goods, my life… that was hard.  Okay, maybe that’s projection, but I didn’t think that it would be so difficult to have people pick up, turn over, appraise, barter and/or reject stuff that I claimed as part of me. It was, perhaps, the flotsam and jetsam of my life, but still, it was mine.  

Who knew it would be so hard?  Maybe I don’t have the stomach- or heart- for this kind of downsizing.

At the end of the day, we had sold about 2/3rds of our stuff and made a whopping $125.00- these days, about the cost of a quick trip to the grocery store.  We loaded up most of the leftovers and took them to Goodwill.  

The antique ruby stemware did not sell.  I’m a little bit glad for that. It’s back in the house, taking up space.

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