Thank you so much for sharing The Great Declutter—what a pleasure to read! I laughed out loud at the irony of losing AirTags, especially your line: “What could be more pathetic than losing tracking devices?” That’s just too perfect.
Your reflections on memory, aging, and what to keep or let go of were deeply resonant. I was touched by the bittersweet moment of shredding the journal—such a powerful illustration of how our past selves live quietly in boxes, waiting to be rediscovered or released.
You strike a beautiful balance between wit and vulnerability throughout. Thank you again for letting me read it—it was a real gift.
Thank you John for your interesting comment. I love your Rimbaud quote that continues with "I witness the unfolding of my own thought". How our brains have the capability to reflect upon themselves is astounding!
Ohh what a wonderful story….been there done that. 12 years ago we sold our house, the cleaning out took for ever….back and forth….do we keep that ? no…oh yes….!!! In the end we did a great job, such a huge relief. Now living in an apartment with a basement storage room, boxes starting to pile up again. I’m not even thinking or tempted of opening them up, they are (boxes) just happy where they are and so am I…..
My review is late. I long ago wrote one that somehow disappeared before I could send it. Still, after rereading the decluttering piece, I want to tell you how much I enjoyed what you had to say.
I particularly liked the way you described your tired brain. It was easy to identify with. At the same time, for me it conjured up the line:
" I is an other." From Freud to Rimbaud,great insights.
Your tales of decluttering resonate with many people. We all face this. It's important to do, but keep writing, above all.
I belatedly read your wonderful article just now, Peter. I hope I am not too late. DON'T THROW OUT ANYTHING! Call Dymon Storage immediately. They will take care of everything; you can keep it all so you won't feel guilty. Leave it to your kids to throw it all out. Hugh
Discover the DYMON Difference Simply the Best Direct Line: 905 556 1699.
I completely relate to your story. I have years and years of collections of various kinds. We have decided to stay in our house but I am decluttering, slowly so that our daughter doesn’t have to. What to do with all those books? The Encyclopaedias that my dad lovingly collected (1948). Books on Israel and the Holocaust. Piano and vocal books. Music from various choirs. Lots to do and hopefully, time to do it. Looking forward to adding your book to my collection though.
Thank you Peter for this funny and relatable story. Letting go of things when we downsized was inevitable, but even 10 years later, I’m still slowly throwing out pieces of my past. I tell myself, “If I haven’t looked at it in 10 years, then it’s okay to let it go.”
Jack was merciless about scaling down, and now, every so often, he has to buy a new kitchen item he once swore he’d never use. For me, there’s some joy in purchasing new things—but those photos and cards from my kids? I want them to find those after I’m gone, so they’ll know how precious they were to me.
I’ve given many of the photos to them already, and they were so excited to see them. I’m also creating a video from old photos of myself so they can remember me and see the journey—from childhood, to teen years, to young adulthood, adulthood, and now, old age. I want them to know that Mom wasn’t always old—her life was full and rich.
Still, this might be the year I finally give up those old skis and the bicycle gathering dust in the garage. As for the dress I loved when I was 18? It’s still sitting in my closet, and though it’s unlikely I’ll ever wear it again, I just can’t bring myself to let it go!
I'm glad you're back on the radar. Enjoy your new home.
How do your Guanajuato neighbors handle their memories? Is there a Latin flavor to saving a lifetime of stuff or is Gimmee-ism a universial human trait?
This was me in 2000, in 2012, 2016 and again in 2019. As much of a pain as the moving was, I kept remembering my tent camping trips across the country. The tent felt like the ultimate freedom. I resembled a turtle in the best way, carrying my shelter around the country. Traveling light is its own joy, don’t you find, now that it is over? Bravo!
"In one old box I found a smiling photo of myself in my thirties. My hair looked big enough to have its own postal code."
I doubt very much that you will remember this but this "detail" about your hair has been entrenched in my memory for over 50 years and still occasionally finds itself included when I share the birth story of our oldest daughter! My first labour and you came by the hospital on your lunch break to check my progress. You told me that maybe babe would be born later that day but more likely sometime the next day. Really?!?? An hour or so later the nurses called you back and you arrived half shorn lol!!! Apparently you'd had a quick lunch and popped into the barber's shop only to get paged back to the hospital midway during the haircut.
If I remember correctly, you told me later that it was the next day before you were able to get to the barber's so he could finish off the cut!!
❤️❤️❤️ I really loved your story — and yes, I was worried and concerned. Now I understand. At this stage of life, we really can relate. I’ve moved 17 times! In my younger years, it was much easier. I used to have a rule: if I hadn’t seen or used it in six months, I didn’t need it!
Of course, the hardest part is always the letters, journals, and photos. But as most of us have learned by now — life is really all about the people. ❤️
Another marvelous piece which likely resonates with many readers. The images are very effective and something most readers recognize. Keep up your musings and writings.
Unless you live in a tent or your car, moving your home is just grim. You have made us all smile with your insiteful comments. Leaving behind family heirlooms and items that you sacreficed to purchase and which you thought you would have forever is just grim. The silver lining is, when you get to your new place, you feel so free. And you are. Now you get to start building new piles of objects that hold memories!
After down-sizing from a 3 floor house to a friend’s sliding-door closet, 3 suitcases a piece and a dog, we moved to Mexico where we rented a two-room (plus bathroom) apartment, I swore I’d never start acquiring stuff again. But, of course, it happened. We now have a one floor, two bedroom, two bathroom house that is stuffed with furniture (some of those family heirlooms made it down here) and artworks. Oh, and kitchen implements!
I never want to move again, but thank you for making me laugh at myself. It was fun. Move again? When they carry me out on a stretcher and I leave all those worldly goods behind.
I’m glad you and Renée made it! You are to be congratulated!
Saying the most important thing first: Peter! How nice to "see" you!
Just before Reggie and I started our Mexican peregrinations (a word I've never written before) I decided to cull, oh, 40 years worth of journals. Black, hardbound, sketchbooks in two sizes, and multicolored small moleskins (unlined.) Too many to bother counting. I separated them into two stacks - embarrassing nonsense & grist. An example of the former was a book of mostly I Ching hexagrams from a particularly difficult period when I could barely get out of bed without outside advice. "I Ching - should I leave the house today?" The I Ching responds, "No blame." Of course, you could take that either way. In any event, embarrassing nonsense. An example of grist would be a critical number of entries (number unspecified, but more than one) that could be used, or act as inspiration. End result: about ten years worth of heavy black books hit the recycling bin. No moleskins with the excuse, "Oh, but they're so small." Psychological result: small liberation. Sad to say, the grist pile got boxed up, reshelved, and hasn't been consulted since.. Someday - soon - really.
Reggie kept the love letters. She's promised to throw them away. I want nothing to do with them, although I do love Reggie. (As I recall, at least one of them could be classified with an X rating. I remember that from my stint at sea.)
Photos and family memorabilia - Umm, yeah, we'll get to them...
Love ya, Peter, and love to Rene! Hope to see you soon.
PS: We got our permanent residency visas and completed step one.
Dear Peter
Thank you so much for sharing The Great Declutter—what a pleasure to read! I laughed out loud at the irony of losing AirTags, especially your line: “What could be more pathetic than losing tracking devices?” That’s just too perfect.
Your reflections on memory, aging, and what to keep or let go of were deeply resonant. I was touched by the bittersweet moment of shredding the journal—such a powerful illustration of how our past selves live quietly in boxes, waiting to be rediscovered or released.
You strike a beautiful balance between wit and vulnerability throughout. Thank you again for letting me read it—it was a real gift.
Warmly,
Mindy
Thank you Mindy for your interesting comment. I love "our past selves live quietly in boxes, waiting..."
I'm happy the piece gave you both laughs and something to think about.
Thank you John for your interesting comment. I love your Rimbaud quote that continues with "I witness the unfolding of my own thought". How our brains have the capability to reflect upon themselves is astounding!
Ohh what a wonderful story….been there done that. 12 years ago we sold our house, the cleaning out took for ever….back and forth….do we keep that ? no…oh yes….!!! In the end we did a great job, such a huge relief. Now living in an apartment with a basement storage room, boxes starting to pile up again. I’m not even thinking or tempted of opening them up, they are (boxes) just happy where they are and so am I…..
Thanks for reading this story, and you can clearly relate! However, accumulating new boxes is not reassuring- but oh, so very human!
My review is late. I long ago wrote one that somehow disappeared before I could send it. Still, after rereading the decluttering piece, I want to tell you how much I enjoyed what you had to say.
I particularly liked the way you described your tired brain. It was easy to identify with. At the same time, for me it conjured up the line:
" I is an other." From Freud to Rimbaud,great insights.
Your tales of decluttering resonate with many people. We all face this. It's important to do, but keep writing, above all.
I belatedly read your wonderful article just now, Peter. I hope I am not too late. DON'T THROW OUT ANYTHING! Call Dymon Storage immediately. They will take care of everything; you can keep it all so you won't feel guilty. Leave it to your kids to throw it all out. Hugh
Discover the DYMON Difference Simply the Best Direct Line: 905 556 1699.
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• FREE Movers, Truck & Driver at Move-In
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I completely relate to your story. I have years and years of collections of various kinds. We have decided to stay in our house but I am decluttering, slowly so that our daughter doesn’t have to. What to do with all those books? The Encyclopaedias that my dad lovingly collected (1948). Books on Israel and the Holocaust. Piano and vocal books. Music from various choirs. Lots to do and hopefully, time to do it. Looking forward to adding your book to my collection though.
Thank you Peter for this funny and relatable story. Letting go of things when we downsized was inevitable, but even 10 years later, I’m still slowly throwing out pieces of my past. I tell myself, “If I haven’t looked at it in 10 years, then it’s okay to let it go.”
Jack was merciless about scaling down, and now, every so often, he has to buy a new kitchen item he once swore he’d never use. For me, there’s some joy in purchasing new things—but those photos and cards from my kids? I want them to find those after I’m gone, so they’ll know how precious they were to me.
I’ve given many of the photos to them already, and they were so excited to see them. I’m also creating a video from old photos of myself so they can remember me and see the journey—from childhood, to teen years, to young adulthood, adulthood, and now, old age. I want them to know that Mom wasn’t always old—her life was full and rich.
Still, this might be the year I finally give up those old skis and the bicycle gathering dust in the garage. As for the dress I loved when I was 18? It’s still sitting in my closet, and though it’s unlikely I’ll ever wear it again, I just can’t bring myself to let it go!
I'm glad you're back on the radar. Enjoy your new home.
Glad I’m not the only one that suffers from CRS.
(Can’t Remember Shit)
How do your Guanajuato neighbors handle their memories? Is there a Latin flavor to saving a lifetime of stuff or is Gimmee-ism a universial human trait?
This was me in 2000, in 2012, 2016 and again in 2019. As much of a pain as the moving was, I kept remembering my tent camping trips across the country. The tent felt like the ultimate freedom. I resembled a turtle in the best way, carrying my shelter around the country. Traveling light is its own joy, don’t you find, now that it is over? Bravo!
"In one old box I found a smiling photo of myself in my thirties. My hair looked big enough to have its own postal code."
I doubt very much that you will remember this but this "detail" about your hair has been entrenched in my memory for over 50 years and still occasionally finds itself included when I share the birth story of our oldest daughter! My first labour and you came by the hospital on your lunch break to check my progress. You told me that maybe babe would be born later that day but more likely sometime the next day. Really?!?? An hour or so later the nurses called you back and you arrived half shorn lol!!! Apparently you'd had a quick lunch and popped into the barber's shop only to get paged back to the hospital midway during the haircut.
If I remember correctly, you told me later that it was the next day before you were able to get to the barber's so he could finish off the cut!!
❤️❤️❤️ I really loved your story — and yes, I was worried and concerned. Now I understand. At this stage of life, we really can relate. I’ve moved 17 times! In my younger years, it was much easier. I used to have a rule: if I hadn’t seen or used it in six months, I didn’t need it!
Of course, the hardest part is always the letters, journals, and photos. But as most of us have learned by now — life is really all about the people. ❤️
Another marvelous piece which likely resonates with many readers. The images are very effective and something most readers recognize. Keep up your musings and writings.
This was just delightful! I laughed out loud at the comment about your hair! Hilarious!
I fear there are way too many boxes awaiting me too and I'm dreading the sorting process.
I hope that after this very difficult and exhausting time you feel relieved and unencumbered and ready to enjoy your beautiful new home.
Unless you live in a tent or your car, moving your home is just grim. You have made us all smile with your insiteful comments. Leaving behind family heirlooms and items that you sacreficed to purchase and which you thought you would have forever is just grim. The silver lining is, when you get to your new place, you feel so free. And you are. Now you get to start building new piles of objects that hold memories!
After down-sizing from a 3 floor house to a friend’s sliding-door closet, 3 suitcases a piece and a dog, we moved to Mexico where we rented a two-room (plus bathroom) apartment, I swore I’d never start acquiring stuff again. But, of course, it happened. We now have a one floor, two bedroom, two bathroom house that is stuffed with furniture (some of those family heirlooms made it down here) and artworks. Oh, and kitchen implements!
I never want to move again, but thank you for making me laugh at myself. It was fun. Move again? When they carry me out on a stretcher and I leave all those worldly goods behind.
I’m glad you and Renée made it! You are to be congratulated!
Saying the most important thing first: Peter! How nice to "see" you!
Just before Reggie and I started our Mexican peregrinations (a word I've never written before) I decided to cull, oh, 40 years worth of journals. Black, hardbound, sketchbooks in two sizes, and multicolored small moleskins (unlined.) Too many to bother counting. I separated them into two stacks - embarrassing nonsense & grist. An example of the former was a book of mostly I Ching hexagrams from a particularly difficult period when I could barely get out of bed without outside advice. "I Ching - should I leave the house today?" The I Ching responds, "No blame." Of course, you could take that either way. In any event, embarrassing nonsense. An example of grist would be a critical number of entries (number unspecified, but more than one) that could be used, or act as inspiration. End result: about ten years worth of heavy black books hit the recycling bin. No moleskins with the excuse, "Oh, but they're so small." Psychological result: small liberation. Sad to say, the grist pile got boxed up, reshelved, and hasn't been consulted since.. Someday - soon - really.
Reggie kept the love letters. She's promised to throw them away. I want nothing to do with them, although I do love Reggie. (As I recall, at least one of them could be classified with an X rating. I remember that from my stint at sea.)
Photos and family memorabilia - Umm, yeah, we'll get to them...
Love ya, Peter, and love to Rene! Hope to see you soon.
PS: We got our permanent residency visas and completed step one.
Such a fun and totally relatable read!