Selling a House is a Revelation: Downsizing As an Act of Will

In a few days, my house is going on the market. It's time--not only for someone else to make this house their own, but also for me to get into a situation where there is family nearby. This move is proving to be its own learning curve (and I hate learning curves).

In most of the homes I've sold before, there's been some emotional component. In this case, not. That's a big difference. For one thing, I haven't been living here more than a few years, although that's been long enough to amass "stuff." But mostly, it's because after months of packing and downsizing, I've decided that I should have done it when I moved in rather than as I move out.

I suppose we all have some small shred of the hoarder in our souls. It was too easy to say (as my late partner did), "Well, it doesn't eat much," and then keep it because "there's room" and we might find a use for it someday.

Bad idea.

Bad idea is my big take-away with this house. Without the clutter, the house looks bigger, more orderly, and more able to display the things that truly matter.

The Boehm porcelain birds, for example, look regal and artistic in the china cabinet when they are no longer surrounded by things that say "Souvenir of . . .." Admittedly, the kitsch has sentimental value, but when faced with the need to pack it, I developed an entirely new philosophy: I decided I did not need to own it. I decided I could take pleasure in imagining someone else owning it (and polishing it).

With this new idea in mind, I set at the mass of things with vigor, looking for things that absolutely had to be moved to the new house.  In these, I included family heirloom stuff, particularly when it had been promised to someone. Then all furniture in good shape over 50 years old, newer if not made of particle board (hats off Ikea). And things that could lead someone to say, "I remember grandma using that."

Now, I'm not saying that even these first things were all absolute keepers. I packed away the things I couldn't bear to part with (like my grandmother's wedding present, a Wedgwood and silver salad bowl). But the rest definitely could be set out for others to go through to make selections. Why wait until one is dead?  Let them have the pleasure of cleaning the stuff.

This idea applied absolutely to physical books that weighed a ton. Unless they were first edition, signed by the author who might notice if they were gone, absolutely needed for craft or profession, or likely to explode in value like comics, I figured they could be enjoyed on line.  There was one caveat though. A complete collection of  Zane Grey novels with tattered covers that really ought to have gone to charity was saved by the claim of 100% certainty that they would be read yet again. I caved on that one.

And then there was the clothing that we promise ourselves we will wear once we lose a few pounds (particularly if it still has the original tags on it). Just because it was expensive or a steal, though, didn't mean it deserved  space. Let someone else enjoy the thrill of finding it amidst racks of faded t-shirts or by rummaging through your garage sale (if you are brave enough to have one).

On the other hand, I resolved to de-China myself, unless it ought to be made in China. Like Ming pottery or jade. Charity shops are clogged with cheap imitations that people tire of. I kept the real stuff, because its appeal lasts. I felt the beauty of a good European porcelain dish bought at an estate sale. It fed my soul. It got to stay.

All bets were off with appliances and electronics. They're all made somewhere else, so I had to decide how much I used it and what shape it was in. Ripped Teflon coating was an immediate discard no matter how much the use. Burned on food stain, ditto. Out went my oversized electric frying pan. If I really needed it, I'd replace it later. I realized that an electric can opener was not a life necessity and that, in fact, I preferred the hand one I had been using for years. The food processor and blender were not negotiable, though. This is personal and preferably done in private, as when men sort their tools.

Old computer equipment, on the other hand, got recycled immediately. I reasoned that it would not be useful as a backup no matter how expensive it was originally (we had three towers each with a different floppy drive). Unless it was a museum piece, an original PC or Apple for example, I knew that Microsoft wouldn't support the older programs any more. I used to love Xywrite, but it got bought out, and I knew that the old hard drives I kept as well as the floppy discs were not going to be helpful except as discussion pieces. It was a wrench because I remembered what I had paid for the equipment (in the thousands), but if it had outlived its usefulness, it was better to reclaim the chemicals rather than have it sit in my closet.

Today I sit in a streamlined house that I could have had all along if I had only had the drive and the courage to go through the process. It's nice, but only part of the process. What comes next is equally important. I'm going to be doing this all again as I unpack. It will be interesting (to me anyway) to see how well I follow through.

There's Not an -ism that Doesn't Deserve a Good Whipping

It's funny how many auxiliary people you get to meet on Facebook when you add a "friend."  I don't post myself unless I'm hit by nostalgia about some anniversary or when I've actually done a blog or got a book out--which means seldom.

My decision to be a Facebook hermit it based largely on the fact I don't want to be bothered by rabid posts promoting someone's passionate opinions about political events, particularly when I don't agree with them.

But, add a friend, and all of a sudden you get to see the passions of their friends. It's like driving a thousand miles across country with Trump or McConnell or some other equally obnoxious politician in the back seat.

The latest example to come out of the woodwork is a friend of a friend, whom I don't know, holding forth on the evils of socialism without ever defining it. I assume I was supposed to take her word that it was just bad.

Breaking with my usual practice, I actually responded by asking her to define socialism in other terms than she just didn't like it.  The result was deafening silence. I guess the word is useful only as a label rather than a concept that has any real meaning.

This started me thinking about -isms in general.

We are surrounded by them: Catholicism, Protestantism, Fascism, Communism, Capitalism, Feudalism, Statism, Militarism, and Oligarchism, and on an on. An -ism is a cultural and/or economic structure that tends to become, in the words of the Catholic theologian, Paul Tillich, an "ultimate concern." In other words, the structure is capable of becoming a religion, if it isn't already. It shapes how people think, how they behave, how they live, what they value, and ultimately what they are willing to die for.

The fact is, though, that there isn't any one of them that is not dangerous. Every one of them needs to be modified, regulated, and shaped into something useful. Left to their own devices, every one of them becomes abusive, repressive, and corrupt.

I have never understood the insane desire to impose a "perfect" -ism. The role of any government is to modulate to make the "perfect union." Pure religion leads to bigotry and inquisitions. Pure Capitalism leads to dog eat dog where the rich devour the poor. Pure communism leads to political and economic control and squelches creativity. Pure oligarchism leads to the control of everything by a small, wealthy elite.

And what about socialism? Socialism basically argues that certain parts of community life, those essential services, like medical coverage, provision of utilities, education, care of the land, the military and national guard, and care of the young and the elderly, are in the national interest and are best operated as non-profit and community owned, paid for by taxes.

No one is calling for the government to take over everything and restrict personal freedom--that's communism.

Yes, socialism has a down side. It can promote a lack of ambition and self-preservation. That's why it too needs to be regulated. But I don't see anything wrong, myself, with the government taking the broadest possible view of what makes for a level playing field in society and what is needed for the future survival of the nation and a decent standard of living. But, for that, we actually need wise, far-seeing politicians.

Given our political climate and the endemic greed, hell will freeze before we are ready for those conversations.

But just for starters, could we please pay some attention to the words they use.