Stuff

January 2, 1950 was a cold day.  Patches of snow still remained on the city streets after the icy holiday weekend.  it would also prove to be the first day of the rest of my life, but that is indeed another story.

My immediate problem that morning was when I remembered that exactly seven hours later I was due to give a five minute speech for the last class of the semester at St. John's University.  It had been a festive New Year's Eve, and I had postponed thinking about the class until Monday morning when I suddenly realized I truly had nothing to say. much less for five minutes.  My mentor, friend and employer at Hearst Advertising Service advised me to "Go out into the reception room, grab a READERS DIGEST.  You'll find something to talk about there."  And that's what I did.

The topic of my speech that night was "Stuff."  I paraphrased my words from a short article about Elsa Maxwell, whose fame was, I believe, due to party-giving. but who only lived in a single hotel room, not even a suite.  She claimed it gave her freedom because owning "Stuff," eventually led to the "Stuff" owning you.

It is ironic that today, sixty two years later, I recall my speech.  At the time I used my words only to get a passing grade, I had little "Stuff" cluttering my life.  I still lived in relatively cramped quarters with my parents and siblings, and outside of clothing, I had no material possessions. other than some books and a few gifts from old boyfriends.

Today, however, is quite a different story.  Following all the life coaches' instructions that I read about daily, I realize it is time to purge my life from the "Stuff" that my love and I have accumulated during the past decades.

My children are thrilled.  "Don't worry about us, Mom.  We don't want anything.  Just keep what you need and like.  You'll be so much happier."

However, I have started to realize as I have barely begun this formidable task, my "Stuff" is utterly amazing.  Each drawer is a treasure trove.  I had no idea what incredible things we had accumulated.

A piece of turquoise ribbon, the color of the Bermuda sea.  Impossible to buy ribbon these days.  Certainly that has to be kept.  Don't ask why, you never know when you need ribbon.  I will keep that for myself.  A bit selfish, but I will.

The tiny pink enameled safety pin I used on my daughter's diapers.  I know you cannot find enameled pins anywhere in this century.  For that matter, you can't even find a store that sells safety pins.  Surely, one of the grandchildren will be delighted with this item.

And then, you will not believe what I found in the very same drawer as the ribbon and safety pin.  Two pastic boxes with pre-threaded needles. Perfect for traveling.  I think they came in a giveaway package from PanAm Airlines.  How fortunate I kept them.  Obviously, too good to discard.  I am not certain who to offer them to, possibly a daughter-in-law.  That will really cement our relationship.

And oh, just look at that earring.  It is perfect, possibly to be used for, well maybe a button.  Surely that could be done.  It is incredible, the color, the design.  No, no, that must be kept.  I don't know - possibly someone who makes buttons.  I'll decide about that later.

I am overcome with my good fortune, and I have barely started.  How wrong Elsa Maxwell was.  I didn't realize it that cold night when I stood in front of the class and talked about how simple life could be without "Stuff."  Amazing how misguided this legendary lady was.

My family will be excited when I tell them how lucky we are.  And to think I have only just begun.  I cannot imagine what teasures are still lurking ahead.