{"id":40231,"date":"2023-12-09T00:01:31","date_gmt":"2023-12-09T08:01:31","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/barbarafalconernewhall.com\/?p=40231"},"modified":"2026-06-06T04:40:14","modified_gmt":"2026-06-06T04:40:14","slug":"tis-the-season-to-declutter","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/server.stagingweb3.net\/barbarafalconernewhall\/tis-the-season-to-declutter\/","title":{"rendered":"‘Tis the Season to Declutter. Or Is It?"},"content":{"rendered":"
\"'tis<\/a>
‘Tis the season to declutter: I thought we’d sent this 1960s era peace flag off to the Salvation Army back in 1987. But it still flies in a corner of our den. It says a lot about Jon as a young man — and as an old guy<\/a>. Photo by Barbara Newhall<\/em><\/figcaption><\/figure>\n

The gift-giving season is upon us.\u00a0People are buying stuff. And so am I.<\/p>\n

Which means — ’tis the season to declutter. Time to make room for that garlic roaster and those pickleball paddles you put on your holiday wish list.<\/p>\n

Meanwhile, my friends — the ones who’ve been on the planet as long as I have — are doing their best to declutter. They’re systematically gleaning, culling and giving the heave-ho to their earthly belongings.<\/p>\n

The kids don’t want all this stuff, my sister-in-law told me over the phone yesterday. Why keep it around for them to sort through when we’re gone?<\/p>\n

True, I say. And I’m doing my part here. I’ve lined one side of the garage with boxes and boxes of rejects waiting to go to the Salvation Army.<\/p>\n

I Like My Stuff<\/strong><\/h5>\n

But — I confess — there’s plenty more where those things came from. Things I’m not ready to part with.<\/p>\n

I like my stuff.<\/p>\n

Apparently, this is nothing new. By the looks of this story I wrote for the Oakland Tribune back in the 1980s when our children were small, I have a thing for stuff. Which I’ll probably take to my grave.<\/p>\n

Sorry, kids.<\/p>\n

By Barbara Falconer Newhall, The Oakland Tribune, Sept. 6, 1987<\/em><\/strong><\/p>\n

Things. They stay where you put them. They don\u2019t talk back. They don\u2019t upchuck on the Persian rug. Things don\u2019t have to be fed, clothed or diapered. They don\u2019t require thank-you notes or post cards from Tahoe.<\/p>\n

They might fade and gather dust, but they are not subject to mosquito bites, splinters, chicken pox or lung cancer.<\/p>\n

They don\u2019t invite someone else to the Sock Hop. They don\u2019t divorce you.<\/p>\n

\"boy-with-toy-dinosaur\"<\/a>
Peter liked his things. He was happiest with an action figure or a critter in his hands. Photo by Barbara Newhall<\/em><\/figcaption><\/figure>\n

Clearly, things have their place in the good life. But last month the time had come to part with a few \u2013 just a few \u2013 of my things. We were in the midst of a housecleaning frenzy at our house, and by golly I was going to get rid of some of that old stuff.<\/p>\n

Getting rid of stuff is easy for some folks. Jon keeps careful track of his school yearbooks, photo albums, chess manuals and 1977-\u201978 Stanford football programs \u2013 and lets it go at that.<\/p>\n

Peter, on the other hand, needs his things. He can\u2019t think or play without an object or two gripped in his wide, 6-year-old hands. Waiting in the doctor\u2019s office, he goes wacko if there is nothing on hand to help him act out his dreams of conquest and adventure.<\/p>\n

Same with Christina, who agreed to give up her nightly bottle in honor of her fourth birthday. But she would not agree to give up her bottle collection, which is considerable. Not yet.<\/p>\n

Peter likes his old koala bear. Christina likes the watercolor she made last week, the one she caught me trying to throw away.<\/p>\n

\"'tis<\/a>
‘Tis the season to declutter and get rid of stuff — but not my grandmother’s pince-nez from J.H. Chinnery, optometrist, Scottville, Michigan. This one’s a keeper. Photo by Barbara Newhall<\/em><\/figcaption><\/figure>\n

I like my Navajo rugs, my Austrian pottery. I like the pearls my father gave me on my 16th birthday, the bust of Ike I made as a fifth grader, the diary I kept when I was 8, the miniskirt I wore when Jon and I were courting.<\/p>\n

Last week, during our cleaning frenzy, Jon and I parted with some things \u2013 an American flag with a peace symbol where the stars should be, ten stuffed animals, an incense holder, two vacuum cleaners and a key-chain roach clip.<\/p>\n

Every few years I take such drastic action as this. My things, meanwhile, remain steadfast until I am ready to let go. They don\u2019t move to South Carolina and have teenage children I have never met. They don\u2019t cross me off their Christmas card list. They don\u2019t die.<\/p>\n

My Disappearing Elders<\/strong><\/h5>\n

One by one, the uncles, aunts and grandparents who peopled my childhood are disappearing from this life, like ducks in a shooting gallery.<\/p>\n

There was Toto, my grandmother, who smoked, drank and dyed her hair black until she turned 90 and moved into a nursing home. Toto\u2019s main vice after that was the drawerful of candy she kept for visiting great-grandchildren.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat will the doctors do with her candy?\u201d Peter wanted to know when he heard Toto had died.<\/p>\n

My uncle George was a sweet man with a gruff voice. He hunted deer for his children to eat\u00a0during the sparse Michigan winters after the tourists had gone home to Chicago and Detroit. When I was 6, George made me eat all the peas on my plate.<\/p>\n

On my father\u2019s side of the family, over in Scottville, Mich., others are gone \u2013 Aunt Emma, Uncle Squawk, Grandma Falconer. Born in 1876, Grandma Falconer used words from another century \u2013 such as \u201c\u2019tis\u201d and \u201c\u2019twouldn\u2019t.\u201d she wore a real pince-nez, which she fastened to her updo with a gold chain and hairpin.<\/p>\n

\"'tis<\/a>
A painting that did not get thrown away. Photo by Barbara Newhall<\/em><\/figcaption><\/figure>\n

Each thing I own represents a person or a moment in my past. If I give away the Mexican blankets, will I forget Jon haggling for them in the mercado? If I let go of the picnic basket my high school best friend gave me, will I forget her? If that blue knit dress goes to the Salvation Army, will I ever see size 8 again?<\/p>\n

How about the espresso coffee maker Jon and I so loved the first year of our marriage? The pair of crutches, the ski boots, the two baby potties, the portable crib we bought the day we found out we could adopt Peter?<\/p>\n

All day, I sorted through my funky old things, making room for the two boxes I brought back from Michigan in July. My parents had had them since I left home two decades ago. This morning I cut the boxes open.<\/p>\n

The Molding Books. The Molding Papers<\/strong><\/h5>\n

Inside, amongst the molding books and papers, I found Tony Benton, who died of Hodgkin\u2019s disease. There with Tony, was Professor\u00a0Ginden, who taught Hemingway and D.H. Lawrence. And Shirley Wagnitz, who was prettier than I in 1953, and Carli Parnall, who was smarter in 1962.<\/p>\n

And, what\u2019s that falling out of a crack in the box? My entire college sorority. I studied the photo, carefully marked with everyone\u2019s name for this very moment, decades later, when memory surely would have begun to fail.<\/p>\n

Our faces were moist and firm with youth. These were the same sisters who razzed me on my 21st birthday by singing \u201cnine more years till you\u2019re 30.\u201d To us, then, 30 was old age. Forty was oblivion.<\/p>\n

Great stuff, I thought, closing up the boxes. I think I\u2019ll keep it all.<\/p>\n

\u00a9 1987 The Oakland Tribune\u00a0 Reprinted by permission<\/em><\/p>\n

‘Tis the season to declutter? Or to search for the perfect gift to add to someone’s home? Glass art by Dale Chihuly?<\/a>\u00a0 Or something wild and crazy from Oakland’s Jingletown<\/a>?<\/em><\/p>\n

\"tis-the-season-to-declutter<\/a>
“You never know when you’ll need a pair of crutches,” Jon says. Sure enough, they’ve been used more than once over the years. Photo by Barbara Newhall<\/em><\/figcaption><\/figure>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

\"1960s-peace-flag\"<\/a><\/p>\n

‘Tis the season to declutter — to ditch the 1960s peace flag and make room for the garlic roaster and the pickleball paddles. Or is it?\u00a0 Read Mor<\/a>e.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":2,"featured_media":48892,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[10,30],"tags":[35,2802,2574,34,1361,82,2803,1360],"class_list":["post-40231","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-a-case-of-the-human-condition","category-my-changing-family","tag-christmas","tag-declutter","tag-decluttering","tag-dont-miss","tag-holidays","tag-on-the-funny-side","tag-stuff","tag-things"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/server.stagingweb3.net\/barbarafalconernewhall\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/40231","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/server.stagingweb3.net\/barbarafalconernewhall\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/server.stagingweb3.net\/barbarafalconernewhall\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/server.stagingweb3.net\/barbarafalconernewhall\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/2"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/server.stagingweb3.net\/barbarafalconernewhall\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=40231"}],"version-history":[{"count":2,"href":"https:\/\/server.stagingweb3.net\/barbarafalconernewhall\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/40231\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":48896,"href":"https:\/\/server.stagingweb3.net\/barbarafalconernewhall\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/40231\/revisions\/48896"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/server.stagingweb3.net\/barbarafalconernewhall\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/48892"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/server.stagingweb3.net\/barbarafalconernewhall\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=40231"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/server.stagingweb3.net\/barbarafalconernewhall\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=40231"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/server.stagingweb3.net\/barbarafalconernewhall\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=40231"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}