Letting go of stuff/finding treasure

One of the reasons I love old stuff is that it has survived through so much. When I buy a plate from 1943 or a vase from 1900, I think of who bought it, how they used it and what journey did it travel all these decades. I am not as interested in very fine things- that story seems to be the same- beautiful, expensive porcelain- received for a wedding and put away for 50 plus years in a Main Line House. I prefer the everyday person’s stuff. I love how they used to give plates and sets of dishes or pitchers and drinking glasses at the A & P, or at one point, you could find a depression glass teacup in a canister of oatmeal! (actually genius packing material.) I imagine a young, frugal housewife just saving up her pennies to complete a set or finding that coveted sugar bowl in the cereal! How proud she must have felt to serve her family on a matching set of green glass!

So many of these treasures find their way to thrift stores. I am sure much of the pretty stuff gets there when someone dies and their kids and grandkids just want to be done with it. Perhaps it is too sad to deal with or more likely they just don’t see the value in these old collections. And I get it, Maria Kondo and all, how much “stuff” can you have? So, when someone dies, the dishes are wrapped in newspaper and sent to the thrift store-(where I usually buy them!.) This is lucky for me but but I always feel a tiny twinge of sadness that nobody wanted to use this beautiful stuff anymore.

One of my favorite escapisms is to thrift shop and I have been doing a lot of it lately.

In June, my best friend died at age 39.

I am…OK.

But every day, every hour, something reminds me of this great loss. She and I were like 2 peas in a pod and shared most of the same interests, including finding stuff at thrift stores. She was the first person I called to tell about some score or another. And vice versa.

Her family has moved to a new home and I have been helping her husband clean out some stuff. I am about to donate a bunch of things to a thrift store myself. None of them are treasures by any stretch of the imagination but still the objects have stories. I remember when she found this white hamper for 3 bucks or something and was so excited because it was exactly what she needed to hold the dirty kitchen towels, rags (we both agreed-of course- that paper towels are wasteful!) and baby bibs.

Katie was a true homemaker in the best sense of the word and old fashioned (like me) in many ways, although our conversations were not limited to hampers- we tackled everything from parenting to politics to food to feminism. We talked a lot. Every day.

Katie went through a bone marrow transplant last December (2018) and was housebound for many months with all kinds of limitations. When her hundred day quarantine was up, she and I and our dear friend, Rachel, went out for a delicious steak lunch. After the lunch, Katie said, with a smile- “Can we go to Marshalls?” For someone house bound or hospitalized for over a year , going to Marshall’s is a rare treat. Using the cart for stability, she picked out some things to take to the new house she was planning on moving to with her husband and 2 little boys. Some mugs, a tray, some other stuff. She and I had talked SO MUCH about how to set up the new place, what would look nice where and how it would all work for her, still being so sick. Reality told me she might never be able to move there, considering how weak she was, but it was important for the future to be planned and dreamed about- for that part of her story to be real for her. I wanted to believe it too.

The mugs are still in the old house ( they really didn’t need any new mugs) and today I will wrap them up and put them in the donation box. Hopefully, someone will enjoy a nice cup of tea in them. However, they will never know the importance these objects had for her.

3 cheap mugs from Marshall’s that meant, “I will be drinking coffee in the new house this summer.” Which meant- “I will live. I am living.” And she was- living- every minute she had left.

This story was far too short.

The Altman Brothers Family Trust Fund Donations can be sent to:
The Altman Brothers Family Trust Fund
c/o Gerry McLenigan 
2047 Harts Lane 
Conshohocken, PA 19428.