Mired in the quicksand of keepsakes

You know that indefinable allure you feel toward something you don’t have? But you want? Sure, we’ve all salivated over that certain “je ne sais quoi” epitomized by expensive homes and automobiles or luxury trips to exotic lands. I get that. But really. An old teacup and saucer? Perhaps I should explain.
Does this sound familiar? You’re cleaning out your closet and agonizing over whether you really, really, REALLY need that goofy khaki fishing cap your dad bought for you the summer you turned 16.
You weigh the “pros:” No. 1. Dad bought it for you.
You weigh the “cons:” No. 1. You haven’t worn it in decades. No. 2. It’s downright ugly. No. 3. Wearing it makes you look like a pinhead. No. 4. It’s dirty and disgusting. No. 5. You hate fishing.
Yep, you’ve got it. The “pros” win.
So goes the dilemma over sentimental things. My dopey brother tried to get me to see reason one summer day after our parents had both passed.
“Gale!” he admonished as we went through piles of old stuff and my “save” pile was growing unruly. “Mom is not an old quilt!!”
Of course he was right. Memories are what we have when loved ones leave us. Memories are intangible, delicious things filling our hearts with fond remembrances, made all golden around the edges with the passage of time. But still, it helps to touch and to hold something that was dear to someone who was dear to us. So we hold on a little bit longer.
The same thing happens when it’s just “stuff” we’re weeding out in the name of orderliness. We accumulate our personal items for a reason, and I am cursed with an extra generous capacity for recalling the mundane and then sentimentalizing it.
Can’t possibly throw away that deck of cards jammed into a drawer. Yes, we have other cards in better shape but I bought THAT deck decades ago when my car’s fan belt broke in the Nevada desert and we were killing time at the drugstore across from the auto repair place. I bought it to keep my daughters happy while we waited.
On second thought, that was one hot, dusty, miserable afternoon. Out they go, stupid cards! I mean, why would I want to remember THAT day? Because it was when my girls were little, and (pause to wipe away a tear) we’ll never get those days back again, will we?
Well, not exactly; but we may find something even more wondrous. Because now my girls have little ones and, thank heaven, we can play with those babies and, in doing so, I certainly needn’t worry about broken fan belts!
So the memory of that certain teacup and saucer was recalled recently when my friend Linda related how she’d been browsing at the library’s book sale and found some familiar titles all stacked together. Realizing they were books she had donated, she joked that she had refrained from buying any of them back.
Rewind to the summer afternoon when my brother and I sat on my parents’ living room carpet, sorting through their stuff and finding Mom’s favorite teacup and saucer. I bought it for her one year when they were visiting, and I bought another one for me. Knowing I had its duplicate, I could donate this one to the thrift shop, right? After all, my mom wasn’t an old teacup!
A few days later, with time on my hands, I found myself wandering through that same thrift shop where, wouldn’t you know it, my mother’s teacup and saucer sat on a shelf. So lonely looking. Not in a place of honor like where my mother had kept it at home.
But I kept walking, remembering my earlier resolve. I was just browsing, right? Yet there I was, wandering over to visit the teacup and saucer once more. Raising the teacup, turning it over in my hands. Hands that were beginning to resemble my mother’s.
“Cash, check or charge?” queried the salesclerk, bagging my items.
Exiting the thrift shop, I held my small parcel carefully, close to my chest.
“Glad to have you back,” I whispered to that teacup and saucer.