"It's time to do some clearing out," my mother says to me when I go and visit. She lives in a small, tidy assisted living apartment. I look around to find the clutter but I don't see it.
"What do you want to throw out?" I ask her, trying to be helpful and remembering that this is a ritual we go through every time I visit. She starts opening drawers and questioning "What am I hanging on to this for?" or "I don't need that anymore". Only very rarely will she say, "Perhaps I should keep that awhile longer."
When we open the closet in he bedroom she finds a half dozen things she has not worn in the past few years and asks me to get a bag for throwaway clothes. Later I find her going through a stack of catalogs under the coffee table and putting them in the trash knowing more will come within days...which they do. When we are finished she is pleased and I'm surprised that we have unearthed things to get rid of from her seemingly orderly surroundings. I notice that she feels infinitely better as if letting go of these things has given her a new outlook on life. She looks around her apartment with pleasure.
This makes me think of the Bessie K. Russell Branch Library in Huntsville, Alabama. Years ago, when I was Head of Extension Services for the Huntsville Madison County Public Library, I was responsible for the operation of the branch libraries. BKR, as we called it, was a thorn in my side. Mrs. Easley, a large black southern woman in her 60's with no library training had become head of the BKR branch before my time, and clung to her position with great authority. Then I came along, a white northern woman in my early 40's with an MLS degree and little administrative experience. I was her new boss from Headquarters.
BKR was not doing well because circulation figures were down. It only took a few visits to see that the collection had not been "weeded" in years. Instinct told me, I had to tread carefully knowing how insecure Mrs. Easely was when I made suggestions for any kind of changes. I began by looking for some positives I could praise Mrs. Easley for. I decided to work up to my goal to weed half the books on the overcrowded shelves. Once I had established the
groundwork, I spent an entire spring at BKR weeding the collection which was supposed to be part of Mrs. Easley's job description. A good administrator always delegates and yet I knew if I left it to her it would never happen.
One day, while I was midway through weeding the Fiction collection, I overheard a patron in the next aisle comment to another, " Look at all the new books in the library." The answer was, "Yeah, isn't it great?" Bingo! I knew we hadn't added any new books but taken out the old ones so that you could finally find to the newer ones. It was like the answer to "how to update your library collection without spending any money." It did not take long for circulation to start increasing. Mrs. Easley was thrilled and suddenly treated me with new respect despite my being young, white, and from the North. This became not only a personal victory for race relations, but my "cleaning out" story that I have told over and over again.
I remember my Mother coming to my college graduation in Iowa from Bogota, Colombia where my parents were living. After the ceremony and celebrations, it was time to pack up and leave. I had an old trunk that I was fast filling to the top. When my mother saw what I was keeping she immediately started started finding things she thought I shouldn't keep. By the time she was finished with me I had a huge pile of giveaway stuff. Several of my friends in the dorm couldn't believe all that I was leaving behind and talked about it years later. They were secretly relieved their mothers were not doing the same. The truth was that I never missed a thing that I left behind once I went on with my life.
When I do buy something new I am compelled to throw out or give away something I no longer need. Clearing out closets and straightening up drawers, getting rid of things in the basement, and only keeping what I need around me makes me feel good. My priorities have changed and I have learned that one can live with less. Some of my friends of my age are doing the same. My college roommate who hung on to everything for years is spending her retirement having garage sales and selling on E-Bay. We have teased each other throughout our long friendship about my being the "thrower outer" and she the "keeper". She told me this week, " After spending the last few summers at the cabin (on a lake in Minnesota) I discovered how little I need to get along with."
Next time I visit Mother she will ask me again to help her clear out another closet, her bookcases, or her desk files. Being the expert "weeder" that I am, I will gladly oblige.
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