I happened to mention to our son recently that I was thinking about moving my mixer from the pantry closet to a place on the counter. "It is so heavy," I said, "and I think I will use it more frequently if it is in a more convenient location." I added that I wasn't sure where I would put the green graniteware breadbox currently on the counter. My counter space is limited.
I was thrilled when my son said he would like to have the breadbox that has had a prominent position in every kitchen since he was a little boy. As soon as we returned home from our trip to Cleveland where he and our daughter-in-love live, the breadbox, complete with a loaf of rhubarb bread, was on its way.
With that offer and response, I had taken the advice of The Gentle Art of Swedish Death Cleaning, How To Free Yourself and Your Family From a Lifetime of Clutter by Margareta Magnuson.
A loved one wishes to inherit nice things from you.
Not all things from you.
"Nice," of course, is in the eyes of the beholder.
Sometimes you must give cherished things away
with the wish that they end up with someone who
will create new memories of their own.
Magnuson urges us to do this sooner, rather than later, and therefore, to reap the benefits of living smaller.
Life will become more pleasant and comfortable
if we get rid of some of the abundance.
This, of course, is a process, and one my husband and I have been pursuing for quite some time. In large part, the process was precipitated by our move from a large home in Madison, WI, to a smaller home, by choice, in St Paul. Our main joint hobby during our almost 47 years of married life has been antiquing. We have filled each home with gathered collections, and we have no regrets about doing that. Such fun we have had, but now space, energy, and interests have changed. This is a different time, and so the process of sorting and decluttering, and dispersing continues.
Many books about downsizing have been written, most with helpful hints, but I so enjoyed the style and perspective of this book written by a woman who frames herself as someone "between the age of eighty and one hundred." I am quite sure I would enjoy knowing her, for she not only speaks from experience, but writes with a light and warm touch. I appreciate that she suggests this active process not just because it will eliminate a major burden for your family, but also because living lighter is a gift for yourself at this stage of your life. She asks, "Will anyone I know be happier if I save this?" I add, "Including yourself?"
And so the process continues in our house. This summer I am going through all the drawers in my garret; drawers that substitute for file cabinets. Next will be bins of notebooks and journals now stored in an attic space. One piece of advice I read recently, but not from the Swedish Death Cleaning book, is to leave every space at least 20% free. Fill it no more than 80%. I want you to know that at least five of the 20 drawers in the garret are completely empty. I am quite proud of that, but I also know, the job is ongoing. Witness this cupboard full of green depression glass. Who would know how much I have already sold or given away!
Swedish death cleaning, by the way, simply means removing things and making your home nice and orderly "when you think the time is closer for you to leave the planet." That time is closer than it was yesterday, so isn't it time to get started? Magnuson is a wonderful companion along the way.
Oh, and I want you to know that I am using my mixer much more now that I don't have to carry it up the stairs from the pantry to the kitchen.
An Invitation
Have you started this process? What are you learning about yourself as you undertake this series of tasks? I would love to know.
Thanks to our recent garage sale and our intentional decision these past years to downsize, we have drawers and shelves and closets packed far less tightly. We have fewer bins stacked in storage areas.
We have empty drawers.
While we will never be minimalists, we feel less smothered by stuff. Granted, we have loved our collections and the process of amassing treasures, but enough is enough. Now is another time.
This past weekend we had a garage sale, a very successful one, I might add, and it was interesting to note people's reactions. Some were almost melancholy.
"How can you bear to give up so many beautiful things?"
"I should be home cleaning out and having my own garage sale, instead of buying more things myself."
"I don't need one more thing, but…"
Others, usually young women with a child or two in tow, were so excited to find items that could add to the beauty and pleasures of their own home tending. I love imagining my vintage tablecloths in kitchens and dining rooms and green depression glass containers now full of sugar and flour on open shelving. In someone else's home. This is the right time of their lives for gathering.
Often people say they want to simplify and sort and organize at this stage of life, so they don't leave their children with a mess. That is admirable, a gift, and a worthy goal, but for me this process is also about creating emotional space, along with time to be and do what matters most right now.
Of course, empty drawers can be a temptation. The temptation to fill them again, but I am determined not to let that happen. My newly created empty spaces do not mean I feel empty or am empty. My empty drawers are more a symbol of freedom, rather than emptiness. In fact, I feel full in the best heart-full ways.
An Invitation
What spaces do you want to create in your life? I would love to know.
One of our main forms of entertainment over the years has been antiquing. My husband Bruce and I have traveled many miles to attend antique shows and have visited many small towns with main street antique malls. We attended Friday night auctions when we lived at Sweetwater Farm in Ohio and visited favorite shops regularly wherever we lived.
The result is a lot of stuff! Now, of course, we have downsized and are slowly but surely dispersing our stuff. Not an easy task, as many of you know who are also eager to lighten the load. This is a normal part of being at this stage of life, it seems.
I have no regrets about the collecting. Such fun we have had, and what pleasure we have derived from using what we have collected, and I admit I still love changing vignettes on tabletops, but I am no longer changing slipcovers and curtains and rugs and pictures --everything--when the seasons change. This is a time of editing, of using my time and energy for other pursuits, of being more content with less. I hasten to add that no one coming into our home, however, would say we have achieved a spare look!
So why then did we go to an antique market recently and why did I buy a bowl? I told myself I was going to rein in my husband who still has the collecting bug more than I do, but he came home with nothing, and I bought a bowl. I went for the eye candy and the pure pleasure of seeing interesting and pretty things and maybe even to see prices of things we have as we mark for our spring garage sales. I went because I could and because I wanted to go.
As we approached the first booth, I could feel myself becoming eager. What will I find? What will attract us? But I also felt reluctant, hesitant, and even a bit disinterested. This felt like a "been there, done that" moment.
Then I saw this darling bowl. English, painted with small forget-me-nots, and it said spring to me. Besides, I love bowls. Just look in my cupboards! It wasn't expensive and Bruce liked it, too, and it will look cute with a houseplant in it, and it won't take up much room, anyway.
As we continued through the show, me with the bowl in my hands, we both spotted other things that in another time, another place would have come home with us. We were especially tempted by a vintage wood sign painted a baby pink with the words Cottages for Rent. (We have also collected signs over the years.) Darling. Bruce asked me if there was a spot in my garret where I could hang it and believe me, I thought long and hard about that, but there isn't, and as I paused, I realized even if I did have room for it, I don't have to have it. This is now and that sign was then.
I did enjoy seeing what a younger generation is attracted to now and love that people are recycling, upcycling objects from the past and being creative in their decor, but I came home thinking more about what else I can do to simplify the look in our home, instead of making room for more stuff.
Now what about that bowl? I did buy it. In one regard I wish I hadn't, but I have decided it will be a reminder to me of another time, another place. I don't promise to cease and desist from attending any future antique shows, and I know I will find just the perfect thing yet again. I am comfortable with that, but I hope when temptation presents itself, I will respond as the person I am today and with mindful attention to the time and place I live in now.
An Invitation
What tempts you these days? Are your temptations reminiscent of another time and place in your life? I would love to know.
Yahoo! This evening is the last time my husband will drive here from Madison and not return there on Sunday. For the last eight months Bruce has made the weekly round trip, and he has been such a good sport about doing that. Actually, I have been a good sport as well. We recognized how fortunate this arrangement has been as we have transitioned to life in St Paul.
But enough is enough, and it is time to live in the same place full-time once again. Even though we both handle separation and being alone just fine, after almost 43 years of marriage, we would rather be together than apart.
Learning As It Happens
Still, I know there will be some adjustment. I am used to having the house by myself, and Bruce is used to coming and going on his own. Even though we are so eager for this change, I know there will be bumps along the way. Last weekend we experienced a minor tease of what could be ahead.
The night he got home I told him I needed to do two errands the next morning. That next morning while I was getting ready to leave, he called out that he was going to get coffee. No problem, until I had my keys in my hand and my purse on my arm and discovered he had taken my car. Yes, I could have taken his car, but I knew it was road weary, a polite way to say this car has LOTS of miles on it, and maybe it even needed gas. I decided not to wait till he got home, but called him and was pleased he answered his phone--that's another one of those ongoing discussions--and told him I needed my car. When he got home in a few minutes, he said I could have taken his car and I said HE could have taken his car. We laughed and moved on, but this silly incident was an indication of how used we are to functioning on our own.
Yes, he has been here every weekend, but weekends have been play time, our elder version of Disney Time, and not much about the everyday routine of living in the same space. In some ways we will have to learn how to live together again. And the new wrinkle is that Bruce will be working from home the equivalent of three days a week with his desk, formerly known as the lady's writing desk, in the living room, almost the center of the house. How will that be? Will the fact that I like to listen to the radio when I am in the kitchen bother him? Will I need to wear a headset? Will he keep the desk looking neat and orderly? How much time will he need to be there and when? Is he interruptible? Am I? How do I establish and stick to my priorities? Will I always feel a need to respond when he wants to take a break and do something? What will our days look like?
None of these questions are earth-shattering, and we have promised each other we will be hyper-communicative, but this is new territory and feels even more unknown because of the pattern of these last eight months.
Opportunities for Change and Growth
This change makes me think how often older people are referred to as inflexible and unwilling to change, and even stubborn, just at a time in life when we are asked to and need to change even more. Retirement, even partial retirement, is a huge change and one that requires a set of skills that don't always seem to fit together. Be independent, but be collaborative. Be helpful, but stay out of the way. Be spontaneous, but find your own routine. Share space, but create your own space. Delegate, but not like a boss. Adjust, but be clear about your needs.
Recently, I asked a friend, who has been retired for a few years, along with her husband, how it has gone. She laughed (A common response to that question!) and said the first year was great. Full of fun day trips and spontaneity and real pleasure being together. It was the second year that was trickier. The temporary vacation mentality turned into days settling into routine and accommodation. That's when the real adjustment began.
Another friend was grateful her husband retired first, for he learned how to function on his own without benefit of a work schedule and colleagues to support him. He even had dinner waiting when she got home from work, discovering he enjoyed cooking. I am more than willing to be the cook in the family, and Bruce has always done a good job cleaning the kitchen, never shying away from domestic duties. My good fortune!
The Real Issues
While those issues are important, they are not the crux of the matter. I am shocked that we are at this point in our life. How did we get here so fast? Our daughter turns 40 in August. How is that possible? It seemed like we coasted almost blindly through our years for so long, going to work every day, paying the bills, collapsing in front of the tv or falling asleep while reading a book, exhausted from days overflowing with activities and tasks. We never really envisioned that one day so much would come to a halt. It's not that we fear retirement or worry about filling our days or figuring out what's next, but the hourglass has more sand in the bottom than in the top, and we can't quite believe it.
Some of us have been proactive, making changes in our lifestyle, even before retiring. We have a number of friends who have sold their family homes and moved into a home that promises easier living or have moved to be closer to family, as we have done. Downsizing and simplifying is a common mantra, and is a good thing, but in some ways it masks the bigger issue. We are doing this because we are aging, and we want to maintain some control over our lives. We hope our decisions will make the tough years less tough.
Anyone in this post 65 age bracket is living their own scenario. Some have been forced to retire because of serious health issues. Some have retired and then are quickly faced with catastrophic illness. Some don't want to retire and are forced to, and others would love to adopt the "retired" label, but economic issues prevent that. Some couples are at odds with one another, discovering opposing hopes and dreams for this time or are facing issues that have been buried for too long. Some are still figuring out what they want to do with their lives only to discover they have lived most of their life.
The truth is I don't know--none of us knows--what this part of the journey will bring. We know where it ends, but we don't know how and what will happen along the way. In the meantime I intend to do the best I can, take deep breaths, reach further into my spiritual being, and give thanks for the privilege of viewing life as a woman in her 60's.
An Invitation
What advice do you have about retirement? If you are retired, what have you learned? What has surprised you? Is there anything you wish you had done differently or sooner? Where has your strength come from? I would love to know.
Bonus: Here are links to a couple blogs I think you will find valuable. The first is a lovely view of the flow of the day, and the next is a deep exploration of a recent loss.
http://movingoutgranni.wordpress.com/2014/07/21/on-plum-splatters-the-dog-is-back-books-birthdays-and-the-shiny-red-bike/
http://coachnotes.wordpress.com/2014/07/29/learning-in-the-dark-grief-loss-and-other-taxing-teachers/
And so the process continues in our house. This summer I am going through all the drawers in my garret; drawers that substitute for file cabinets. Next will be bins of notebooks and journals now stored in an attic space. One piece of advice I read recently, but not from the Swedish Death Cleaning book, is to leave every space at least 20% free. Fill it no more than 80%. I want you to know that at least five of the 20 drawers in the garret are completely empty. I am quite proud of that, but I also know, the job is ongoing. Witness this cupboard full of green depression glass. Who would know how much I have already sold or given away! 
