Sometimes we’re thrown a bone when we really need it. I had found today’s subject car parked at the curb in front of a local, family-owned convenience store while walking to do my weekly grocery shopping on my lunch break. I have no idea how long it had been parked there before I had passed it around noon, but by the time I was walking back home a half hour later, it was gone. It was much more convenient to have been able to photograph it with my phone before my grocery bags were full. Seeing this old, vinyl wood-sided Oldsmobile was truly a joy and a welcomed reminder of semi-familiar sights from my ’80s childhood.
The reason that seeing it had been so timely is that just the day before, I was given basically just seven days to go through the entire contents of my condo, sort, and pare down my possessions in preparation for a mandatory pest control treatment. This was after I had sent three previous e-mails and left two voicemail messages a few weeks prior (with no initial responses) in which I had let our former condo management company representative know that I might have a situation. This particular kind of pest is one that only surfaces at night, and getting rid of them generally involves removing everything from floors, walls, closets, and every other place in one’s bedroom before treatment with chemicals and/or heat. What this had meant for me was that boxes of things that had been stacked in one large, floor-to-ceiling closet had to be sorted through on a crash basis.
My thought process was that it made more sense to go through everything to see what I wanted to keep versus trying to retain absolutely everything and also risking cross-contamination of other rooms in my unit by simply moving things around. I had spent the entire previous Thursday night before this car spotting by starting the process of going through everything, which continued on Friday night. The following Saturday and Sunday, I had spent two, consecutive ten-hour days of almost non-stop sorting, discarding, and donating (of safe items), filling up probably the equivalent of two apartment building-sized dumpsters with properly sealed, industrial-strength black trash bags.
This process had included four or five trips to a local resale shop to donate the absolute best of the best, including things like glassware (shot glasses, pint glasses, a couple of complete martini sets, etc.) and an entire set of vintage, avocado-green Anchor-Hocking Soreno dishes, cups, bowls, etc. that I had both inherited and collected over the years. I surprised even myself by how much barware I had stored in my kitchen. Accumulation of little souvenirs of previous good times had gradually and imperceptibly become a huge albatross around my neck.
Clearly, I had too many things in my possession which is incontestable, as much as it pains me to admit it. It was still an incredibly hard thing to basically go through things representing the past five decades of my entire life and decide what made the cut and what got heavily bagged, sealed, and disposed of. Of those nicely kept or vintage items that didn’t get donated, many very usable things went into the trash. It would have been nice to put things up for sale, but I was up against a deadline, potential fines, and other such action. I had risked falling outside of the good graces of my condo association by being unprepared for pest control and out of compliance. I also had to work by day. As it had turned out, my sentimentality and my capacious bedroom closet space had co-conspired against me in what had ended up as both an emotionally draining and physically grueling weekend.
What does any of this have to do with our featured car? In my mind, a few things. In a literal sense, one could point to the 87.2 cubic feet of cargo space in the way-back of this machine as evidence that like my closets, this old Olds also could hold a lot of stuff. With that little fact aside, this Custom Cruiser is something that’s irreplaceable simply for the improbability of a car like it ever being manufactured again. Even if something happens twenty years from now where giant, rear-drive, V8-powered, car-based, full-sized station wagons make some kind of unlikely return, there’s no more Oldsmobile. Like many of the items I had carefully curated and preserved, this Olds was in decent shape, even if not in perfect condition. Someone had clearly given it a lot of love over the course of its forty-plus years on the road.
At a time when I had to trash-bag items once cherished including a Mickey Mouse doll I had been gifted when I was five, and also donate almost my entire cassette collection (how it pained me so to throw out my collection of cassette singles) to the resale shop, this wood-sided B-body biggie provided me with some sense of continuity with my own younger life that had suddenly seemed so very far away. At this writing, my unit still awaits pest control treatment in a couple of days and my go-to resource of the Encyclopedia Of American Cars from the editors of Consumer Guide is temporarily in a box in my living room, so I don’t have quite as much information about the actual car at my fingertips outside of what I can find online.
This example was one of just under 22,900 Custom Cruisers made for ’85. It’s powered by an Olds “Rocket” 307 (5.0 liter) V8 with about 140 horsepower, mated to a four-speed automatic transmission with overdrive. One could also order a 5.7L diesel in one of these machines, but given the lack of soot on the rear of the car, I’m assuming this car has the Olds 307. Eighty-five was the ninth year of production for this generation, which had been mildly restyled for 1980 and with minor tweaks and changes to it before being more thoroughly redesigned for ’91. I feel that the factory Light Blue Metallic suits this car well, like the color of a nice button-down shirt, and is complemented by the wood-effect vinyl. It would be hard to explain to someone born since, say, the year 2000 how the fake wood had once connoted such luxury.
One question that kept rolling through my mind as I had voluntarily discarded useful items was: at what point does a material thing become a liability and not an asset? Stated another way, when looking at this big Oldsmobile, someone had decided that even though it wasn’t the most fuel- or space-efficient thing on wheels, it still deserved to be maintained, used, and driven. What will happen to it when the current owner or driver is no longer its custodian? Unless its new owner is also a fan of the traditional U.S. wagon, chances are it will eventually be used up and discarded, effectively wiping out years of care that had been lavished upon it up to that point. Like so many of my former possessions.
I still consider it a mixed blessing that I had to go through what could be considered a decluttering boot camp, even if it still hurts right now. Once the dust settles and I can put my home back together (with confirmation that I no longer have a pest problem), I’m sure I’ll be thankful I was basically forced to do this sooner than later, and especially before summer. I also learned that I have entirely too many diecast car models, so thankfully, that spell has effectively been broken. All the same, it’s my hope that this beautiful Oldsmobile continues to proverbially live a life that appears to have been cherished and appreciated. I’m also very thankful that things, unlike people, do not actually have feelings. Knowing this somehow makes my recent experience ache just a little less.
Edgewater, Chicago, Illinois.
Friday, February 6, 2026.
The 1985 Oldsmobile Custom Cruiser brochure pages were sourced from www.oldcarbrochures.org.
Excellent commentary about “stuff” — it took six months to clear out my parents’ house. Congratulations on finishing an unwanted project in a timely fashion!
Thank you so much. It was and seemed a daunting project, but (spoiler alert) now that it’s all over and done with, I’m so very pleased with how it all turned out. With only exception of only a handful of items I wish I still owned, I consider this (forced) project a success.
Oh gosh, I feel your pain! It’s so emotionally taxing to go through everything, like watching a movie of your own life. I have dipped my toe in the water of downsizing, but I don’t like it one bit. It’s exhausting. Like you, I am more of a storage box person than a scrapbook person. Hope you are able to enjoy your clean slate.
Thank you, Lori. At times, it was a lot like you described – like watching myself through the lens of old family movies, with each memory uncovered. I am very much enjoying what amounts to a new beginning and a new mindfulness in general around the intentionality of acquiring things. I had liked and cared for the things I gave or threw away, but space is finite – both physical and emotional.
I did photograph some of the items I parted with before doing so, to your point about scrapbooking. I’m glad I did.
How I dread the possibility of having to endure such “life editing”. I live alone, and my therapist admits I have a love affair with my “stuff”. I collect collections, and a hefty chunk of it is car-related.
Walter, it’s okay. We find joy in the things we collect and in the hobbies we keep. I don’t think that’s problematic if it doesn’t run our lives. It was a very hard decision for me to finally put my ’79 Corvette rear bumper cover in the dumpster – a cool, formerly wall-mounted car-tifact I had even written about here at CC.
For much of the cargo I had jettisoned in order to save the ship, I had to ask myself if I could see myself using them again in the next few months – so my Corvette bumper had to go.
I also placed into recycling a ton of new car brochures that were over a decade old, from car shows I had attended here in Chicago.
All this is to say that like you, friend, I had a lot of car-related collectibles. I still have some – just not as many.
Excellent thought piece as always, Joe.
I am of two minds on the business of purging. One one hand, I do see the practical purpose behind emptying out a large closet of infrequently-accessed “stuff”. Kudos for you for stepping up to the task and getting it done. On the other hand, I think that the cultural trend of jettisoning personal possessions is nothing to be celebrated. Assigning significance to physical objects and curating them (sometimes in a blg closet, or our basements) is something that makes us humans. Which says what I need to say about Marie Kondo.
Too bad that it’s the wrong time of year and generally inconvenient for you to locate the owner of the Olds and arrange to rent it for the summer. You could have filled up the back with your stuff (and likely then some) and traveled the flea market circuit. Now THAT would be a adventure worth having. 🙂
Thank you, Jeff. I always appreciate your perspectives on things. I have the feeling that if you had been a friend who had dropped by while this process was going on, it might have been harder for me to part with things, because based on your comment above, we seem similar-minded.
I absolutely dislike wastefulness and unnecessarily adding to a pollution issue. In my frugal mind, my tendency to save perfectly good things was directly correlated to wasting not and wanting not.
Much of what I had formerly owned was of some significance, whether to me personally, or culturally. One particular clerk at the local resale shop that was the beneficiary of much of my good stuff asked me this past weekend when I had donated a set of wall mirrors (and I paraphrase, but close) how I “had so many awesome things to keep donating”. I told her I was doing just a little decluttering.
I will say this, though – discovering The Minimal Mom on YouTube and her channel was exactly what I needed at the time to help me get through this process on a crash basis. The star / content creator, Dawn Madsen, is brilliant in her explanations and seeming deep knowledge of the human psychology behind our need for things. Without her online guidance through her videos, this would have been a much more daunting process than it was.
I like your idea of taking that Custom Cruiser to a flea market with my stuff thrown in the wayback. Simply awesome.
I know just what you’re going through with the bugs. A few years ago, my wife’s parents had that problem – which likely was introduced to their house from when her father was in a nursing home. Oh, and her parents were hoarders, so their house was absolutely full of… stuff. Lots of stuff.
My wife and her brother spent a week clearing out their parents’ house prior to treatment. In their case, they got a dumpster, and filled it twice. A lot of the stuff that was thrown out carried sentimental value, but in the urgency of needing to clean the place out, sentimentality took a back seat to necessity. Not just a back seat, but in the wayback.
They had the heat and chemical treatment done, and fortunately the bug problem didn’t resurface. It’s infuriating and extremely expensive to have to deal with this stuff, as I’m sure you know. But in their case, that stuff would never have been cleaned out any other way.
My wife’s parents are gone now, but my wife and her brother have taken possession of both of their parents’ former vehicles, which were well-preserved and taken care of. Kind of like this Custom Cruiser, they’re not the most modern things on wheels, but we still use and drive them.
I’m glad someone’s maintaining and using this Custom Cruiser. Just one minor observation: it’s amusing to me to have white-letter tires on this car. Reminds me of when my dad had a Plymouth Voyager with fake wood and wire hubcaps, and had white-letter Goodyear Eagle tires on it. It’s a ridiculous combination, but I like it.
I am amazed that all 4 of those wheel covers remain in place. Those things get bent easily and will then make every effort to escape. Ask me how I know.
Now that you mention it, JP, I am also impressed by the condition of the wheel discs. This is one more piece of evidence that supports that this vehicle had been well cared for.
Eric, thank you for this. Wow – just reading your description of what had happened at the residence of your parents-in-law was a little triggering, but it sounds like you know exactly what I was talking about. And I only have a condo and not a house.
While I was in the middle of this process last week (this essay was completed and scheduled three weeks in advance, and I’m pleased to say that everything is mostly back to normal at my house), I had discovered the concept (or someone had introduced it to me) of “Swedish death cleaning”. To oversimplify, this is a concept of decluttering now in order not to burden loved ones for later after we’re gone.
I love my nephews and nieces dearly, and as I went through my things, what helped motivate me at times was thinking about any of them having to go through boxes and boxes of their Uncle Joe’s things – many of which have / will have had meaning to me, but not necessarily to them.
I actually feel really good about having done the decluttering I did, regardless of how I was guided or forced to do it. It’s one less thing for me to think about later. I may soon even be able to tackle the boxes in my storage locker downstairs, as I now have a template.
Oh my, but you remind me of the arduous task that awaits me. Or my children. I have joked that the secret to the happy marriage of two pack rats is to never throw out the other’s stuff. And being pack rats, we are disinclined to throw out our own stuff either. Over 30 years at an address (with a garage and a basement) is showing the flaws in our system.
I spent enough time in variations of this car that I will wish the owner well without desiring to trade places with him. If it were a big Mopar C body wagon, I would probably feel differently.
JP, it’s funny that you mention “pack rat” as a term to describe collecting. When I had a little sit-down discussion with the condo association president – a really nice guy – while I was going through this, he referred to some of the things that he and his wife collect as associated with the “pack rat” as I also collect things like die cast cars, etc.
I spent a not-insignificant amount of time then researching what makes a hoarder from a psychological standpoint. My thing is that while I clearly had too much stuff, much of it was put away like Tetris blocks in the storage space I had, and to me, anyway, much of it had some value to where I could see myself using them some day. Candles. Books. Old mementos. I didn’t have stacks of newspapers or mostly-used plastic bottles of, say, dishwashing detergent that were keeping me from moving from room to room.
What I will say is that this whole process got me thinking more clearly around why I had saved so many things from a psychological standpoint. I had saved mementos of times when I had felt included, safe, validated by other people – things that may not have been in abundance when I was growing up. I also didn’t grow up poor, but I remember hungry times as a young adult when I lived off of mac-and-cheese and off-brand tuna.
One doesn’t forget times of scarcity. I now make a good living as an insurance underwriter and I have lots of love and connection in my life. I realize that maybe it was okay to let go of some of my old crutches.
Mr Dennis’ Tuesday essays a great hedge to post-Monday support.
Thanks… I think. I wasn’t quite sure what you meant, but it sounds positive.
I can also relate to STUFF. I like my stuff but also remember the good old days when I could load up my Nova in one day and be off on a multi-state move. Then came the small U-Haul trailer, then a huge U-Haul trailer, then a large U-Haul truck, then came the loaded 18-wheelers. You are correct to assume I have moved many, many times, state to state, country to country. Each time I have moved I have purged to reduce the load but somehow the next move of stuff requires more purging. After each move I wonder why did I keep stuff I haven’t used in years so I purge again when unpacking. Therefore, I discard perfectly good stuff before and after a move. It has gotten easier to discard stuff since many moves ago I had to use long distance moving companies and I pay by both weight and mileage. My last move from Canada back to the US I thought I was good at discarding before the moving company arrived. Out went hundreds of pounds of books and paperwork I used for teaching. Gave away my heavy exercise bike I had only used twice before just giving into old age and sore hips. Found homes for all my house plants, some I had been hauling around for 40 years. Unpacking in the States I am still saving more than $1,200 in packing boxes (just in case), plus one Wardrobe box full of neatly folded bubble wrap. Why, I ask myself, do I still have a closet full of clothes that will never fit (just in case I get sick before I die and need something slimmer to wear?). Then there are the two heavy footlockers of X-Mass decorations I have not opened in 30 years. Unpacking after my last move I donated more than 150 books, more weight, but will keep hundreds more. Do I really need matching china, crystal, silverware for a dinner of 12 when I eat on a TV tray? Why did I move yet again a hundred pounds of boxes full of nuts/bolts and hardware when for the last 25 years I only need one jar of picture hooks, do I really need a dozen tape measures and the list goes on and on? I do keep stuff that “just in case” I might use them later but after decades of moving I never really use that stuff again. I do miss the 14-foot tall palm tree I had in my Dallas living room but the Canadian apartment I rented on the Internet only had 8-foot ceilings. Moving my tall palm tree to Canada was out of the question (I did find a good home for it).
I grew up in a military family and we frequently moved state to state, country to country and my parents could pack up and move in a week, with the help of Mayflower Moving Co. (what ever happened to Mayflower?). My days of loading up my stuff in a 1970 Nova are long, long gone. For many decades I had pets and only bought a new car if I could fit multiple cat carriers and a litter box in a new car. Even before I ordered my current 2011 Camaro, I went to the dealership to see if I could fit my cat carriers in a 2010 Camaro with the fold down rear seat and pass-throw to the trunk for a litter box, YES all fitted, I placed my order for a 2011 Camaro. Now I have to transport a car with each move. I bought my 1966 T-Bird convertible in 2014, shipped it to Canada, shipped it back to the States in 2021. My T-Bird has seen more mileage in transport trucks than I have driven it and prefer not to think about the thousands I have spent moving one car.
There might be one last move in my life but I am taking the T-Bird with me. Perhaps I can load it up with STUFF I don’t need, but might need, just in case.
Alfred, from reading this, it sounds like you have gone through the process of downsizing your possessions multiple times and very mindfully. That’s goals, and I hope I’m able to sustain the lessons I’ve just learned, myself.
Remember Joseph, you’re not a hoarder. You just don’t have enough space! I too am a collector of collections and understand your situation. Breaking the emotional attachments can tough but there is such joy in finding interesting things at garage sales, flea markets and the curb, then fixing up & cherishing them. As to the other problem, flicking on the basement lights in a telephone company switching center some years ago was a lesson in fear. The little buggers carried me away and gave me stern talking too! Such was my life as a gas company rep…
Cang, it sounds like you totally get it. I love thrifting, finding something cool at a great price, polishing it up or whatever, and then admiring this new treasure that I just found. It was some of those very things that I had ended up giving away. I know that some of my old possessions were worth something when I found four of them for sale at a medium-priced vintage store the weekend after my great purge. I ended up buying back a Genie phone I had given away, a treasure I had found in a dusty, old thrift store almost twenty-five years ago and cleaned up. I’m glad I went back for my old phone, which I realize is something I have now bought twice.
And your description of the bugs in the basement reminds me of that ’90s movie Joe’s Apartment.
Good luck with the condo. Spent north of “30k”, over three years after my place got hit. Has looked like “Ralph/Alcie Cramdens” ( “The Honeymooners”, show) place ever since.
Issue did go away after countless treatments big/small. Also had to have baseboards removed, replaced.
Refuse to put any thing cushioned, tufted, any carpeting, anything with drawers, into the place.
Use only things that can be be kept in covered, containers or sealed in closed bags. Been sleeping in a washable bedroll on the floor since “2022”. Ain’t life wonderful? I donated nothing, trashed “everything” and more. Get you some (many) “Nuveen” strips. They’re invaluable.
Thanks, JT. Things ended up working out fine after two subsequent “all clear” test results from the pest control company following the initial treatment. I also now know what to expect in the future should this ever (perish the thought) happen to me again.
I don’t consider myself a hoarder, because I keep my house and garage relatively tidy and fully usable. And I don’t keep garbage. But I have a tendency to keep everything that’s still usable. Having gone through so many hard times without money, when I couldn’t afford to replace anything I didn’t already have. And while I’m doing well now, I don’t take it for granted, because nothing’s to say it couldn’t all change unexpectedly. Multiple times I’ve been laid off or had unexpected hospital stays. There aren’t many jobs around here, and I don’t have the hustle skills to just go do something else. While they keep me in engineering because I totally rock at it, the only way I landed any job in the first place was with some help from connections.
I refuse to live like the hoarders you see on TV. But I can relate to how it happens. For the most part, the only way I can remember anything is by the last place I used it, and what I was doing at that time. Groups of tools or things stored on shelves. Computer files, such as photos and project related documents, all grouped by various stages in life.
My dad is the same way, except his living space is packed to the gills and filthy. Certain areas are like mini time capsules. Like things stored in the shed from the mid 80s, belts on a wall and fluids and parts from long gone equipment. A glass Mt Dew bottle and Bic lighter atop an old dresser from our big summer party in 1984. A can of paint and a bottle of brake fluid atop an old empty gun cabinet from when I fixed my sister’s car in 1998. My mom is the opposite, very non-sentimental and minimalist, and he got protective if she tried to change anything. I started out like my mom, but became more like my dad due to all the hardships I’ve been through.
I’ve gotten rid of things in the past and gotten burned over it. When I paid off my first car and got the cleared title, I tossed everything else. Later I found my credit was wrecked because the bank didn’t close my loan out. That’s the one good thing my dad’s conartist ex wife did, she went in and fixed my credit. Also when I sold my house, I had all the original documents from 17 years prior that were meant to be forgotten. These saved me in proving certain things and getting the place sold quickly. I’ve kept car parts I pulled 25 years ago, and now you can’t find some of them anymore, but I still drive some of those same kind of cars.
I’ve moved once as a kid (1983, into the house my dad still lives in). And twice in my adult life. 1 from my dad’s house when I bought my first house at 22. 3 4×8 trailer loads and into a 10×10 storage unit. Then from that house into this one 10 years ago. That took me several months, but to be fair I was only able to do a trailer load every couple days, due to a full time job and hauling the snowblower in the trailer too. I also moved things like my 10 ft C band dish, which I planted here and still use. The only way I’m leaving where I’m at now, is if they send me somewhere to croak.
I’ve always been a big fan of station wagons, especially square ones with the most practical usable space. That’s mostly what I’ve always had. Between hauling things to move like back and forth from college, hauling music gear and countless other things. And those flat wheel covers are my favorite ones that Oldsmobile used. I loved Oldsmobile, it was like a little bit of everything. Not so much with this wagon, but a lot of cars had that high tech image, sportiness but not as extreme as Pontiac, and luxury but not as extreme as Buick.
Well there’s my novel. Lunch is over, back to work now.
Troy, I appreciate the time you took to share this, and it brought to mind a few more things I had forgotten. I absolutely believe that experiencing times of scarcity can help support our tendencies to want to keep things we find perfectly usable. It’s certainly what I did. In fact, I ended up buying new things to replace what I had just thrown out, like a package of computer paper.
With that said, I did also remember having had some of my things thrown out by my mother when I was a kid and wasn’t looking. I think she was anti-clutter because my grandparents, who had lived through WWII, had saved everything. I hated, for instance, the feeling of being violated by having a shoebox I had saved for a project mysteriously thrown out.
Maybe there’s a part of me that had decided that once I was in charge of my own money and space that I would keep whatever I felt like. That served me to a point, but I think that moving forward, I’m just going to have to be more deliberate about what I acquire, save, and yes – also discard.
I miss station wagons. Boxy SUVs are not the same! As I said in another comment, I want something that you have to lower your butt into. Something that can do 50mph around a curve without going horizontal. Something that’s not German and won’t require re-financing the mortgage when it needs a brake job.
I haven’t ridden in that many SUVs (that I can recall) that had cornered hard, but I completely see your point. The lower center of (heavy) gravity that this Oldsmobile Custom Cruiser represents would definitely make me feel a bit safer while taking a corner fast than feeling like the Honda CR-V I’m riding in is about to tip over.
There is a fine line between collecting and hoarding, and it often depends on who draws that line! Living in one place for a long time will often result in a lot of stuff being saved, even if it is no longer of any real use. I believe in saving sentimental items, I would never have thrown out that Mickey Mouse doll, for example. I have very few things that date back from my childhood, so I’m holding onto those. On the other hand, after my folks passed away my brother and I went through their house and tossed out mountains of stuff. I realize that in twenty years (that’s my hope!) that my kids will be tossing out my Wife and I’s stuff. I purge my library every couple of years, once I start piling books on the desk or on the floor I go through and make the cut.
In fairness to my kids, I am starting to simplify and discard my stuff. I don’t even try to suggest what my Wife should do, I’m too smart for that!
I’d bet that that wagon has raised white letter tires because the owner couldn’t find a reasonably priced set of whitewalls. It’s pretty difficult finding 15 inch tires and the buyer usually has to settle for whatever they can get.
Jose, I agree – it does seem very subjective in terms of what’s considered collecting and what’s hoarding, especially when said activities don’t seem to impede everyday life, health, and/or safety. To be clear, I did save some sentimental things – I just couldn’t save all of them. I’m so glad I got a selfie with my Mickey before I said goodbye.
I did, however, uncover a bunch of my old car drawings and sketches that I hope to feature here at CC at some point. I surprised my current self with the level of aesthetics I had applied to my “concept cars” (all drawn in profile), but I suppose that speaks more to the integrity of my artistic vision versus the actual quality of the drawings. Regardless, I love my car sketches and am glad to have found them.
I also found many of my old creative writings, and what was fun to see was how my voice is pretty much the same today when I write for CC as it was when I was a teenager and young adult. I can’t help but be anyone but myself.
So, all this is to say that the sentimental items I ended up saving often had more to do with my own creative output rather than just a memory, though I did save some such items, as well.
And yes – I agree with you about the raised white letter tires looking just a bit out of place here, but I still like them.
First of all, Joe, I’m sorry for your loss. This was suddenly forced upon you, rather than done at your own pace, so mourning the loss of some sentimental items is expected.
I’m facing that, only on a much more relaxed timescale (well, if my wife had anything to say about it, I’d be on the accelerated program). You see, I’ve been a homebrewer for a long time, and a damned good one winning many contests and such. I even did it professionally at a brewpub for a while. But I just don’t drink like that anymore, and if I want a particular style of beer, I can usually find it at the store anyway. I have a LOT of homebrewing equipment, but parting with it will feel like I am jettisoning a huge part of my life. But I really need to face the facts… The last batch of beer I made was in 2014 for mine and my wife’s wedding. It’s still gonna suck parting with it.
There are more items, but you get the idea. We need to go through the attic. There are a ton of Christmas ornaments, old computers and TV equipment that we just don’t use anymore. It’s still a daunting task I really don’t want to face.
We aren’t hoarders… I think that line can be drawn in the fact we keep a neat house and can easily walk around in it. I just think that in six decades on a planet, we all can accumulate stuff. When I think of “Hoarders” an image comes to mind of someone who hasn’t taken the trash to the curb in years and has newspapers piled to the ceiling and a dead pet or two buried in the house. Of course I won’t watch that show, because a) I hate reality TV, and b) maybe I’d see something of myself in the show that I won’t like.
I think if my shed were able to speak and I said that I’m not a hoarder, it would probably like a word. LOL.
But everyone tells me that throwing away your stuff (like my skis I’ll never use again… can’t break anything at my age now) is LIBERATING! Ok, maybe it is… I’m sure the added space in my little rancher would be appreciated, but yeah, I get it. It’s hard.
As to the OLDS? Again, we weren’t station wagon people but seeing this one still plying the roads makes me smile.
Thanks for another great essay.
Thank you, Rick – I appreciate this. Your illustration of your homebrewing equipment also reminds me of something a friend had said to me as I had started this process, as it has related to her own life. She had said that her possessions now reflected where she was *right now*, versus where or who she *had been* at some point in the past.
In your case, your homebrewing hobby was something you were really into at one point, and it had even played a part when you got married over a decade ago. To your other point, though, its sounds like you’re asking yourself where that activity falls within your current life.
I got rid of things I had kept telling myself I’d like to get back into “at some point”, but at the end of the day, I let go a bunch of stuff in order to let someone else enjoy it now instead of me deciding, fifteen or twenty years from now, that I’d like to try something or an activity again.
Ultimately, I’m giving myself credit for how I had approached this very necessary project. And also as it had turned out, no prayer request was too seemingly insignificant.
Sorry you had to go through your decluttering on such a rapid timescale. My wife and I had to do something similar (albeit over several weeks) when my mother had to leave her house of 64 years to go into a nursing home. This is the same house that my brother and I grew up in.
Because we live in central Virginia and the house was in Pittsburgh, we had to make multiple trips there in the fall of 2018 to get the house ready for sale (with mom’s permission of course). We didn’t keep all that much; we used the services of Got Junk, Red White and Blue (similar to Good Will), and a moving company to transfer items for resale to Good Will, plus a lot went into the trash. Got Junk claimed they’d recycle as much as possible; Red White and Blue picked up items we put on the front porch for resale at their store. A fair amount of sentimental items were transferred or trashed.
I would have loved to have taken some of the furniture (so well made compared to what’s available today), but our rental minivan on the final trip could only hold so much, so we ended up taking only a cedar chest given to my mom as a wedding present by her parents.
My wife and I have been gradually decluttering our own house (she’s a lot more aggresive than me at the task). We’ve lived here since 1992, so we’ve accumulated quite a lot. One source I’ve used with considerable success is http://www.freecycle.org (I believe chapters exist across the US) to give away useful stuff that we no longer need. I’ve kept a running tally, and we’ve made about 70 separate donations, from small knick knacks and toys to a bundle of 7 windows from the house (when they were replaced with new ones).
Thank you. I woke up this morning feeling thankful that I’m actually through this process and with a much more organized living space and with much less mental and emotional bandwidth devoted to my possessions.
I also read the same thing about Got Junk, which makes them sound appealing to those who, like me, dislike waste and like the idea of useful things being recycled. Thank you also for referencing Freecycle.org, which I had never heard of before.
You (and others) make a great point about just the amount of time where one has resided in one place being the source of accumulation. I don’t think that’s a bad thing. I mean, we don’t have to live as ascetics, and with all the talk of “you can’t take it with you”, why wouldn’t we try to enjoy some of what we’ve earned, saved, and been given? I suppose it’s just a fact of life.
I have gone through this 3 times due to 3 house moves and each time after becoming settled, revert back to collecting “stuff” mostly automotive / vintage diecast related. after reading this I probably have to think about it again.
Also interesting about the pest treatment, I remember a couple of TV comedies, Seinfeld and King of Queens where this was the storyline.
I’m not aware of this being a thing where I live in Australia.
The vintage diecast collecting thing is common and very much a thing! It’s funny because I’ve found recently that every time I’ve mentioned it (i.e. at the hardware store, at the mattress store, etc.), there has been great conversation about that with mutual excitement about the hobby. I think maybe many of us collect diecasts as adults and just don’t talk about it (?). I recently reconnected with a cousin and he and I are still very much into our car models… and I think it’s awesome.
The thing with me is that with each great deal or cool find I’d come across, I’d forget about the tons and tons of diecasts I still have in boxes in my closet. Even though I wasn’t spending all my money on them (since I’m a smart shopper), I realize I should just enjoy what I have right now. Take some out of boxes. Look at them. Examine them. That’s not to say I won’t ever make another diecast purchase, but my collecting did become slightly out of control. I admit this.
What a well preserved rarity .
All it needs is new Di-Noc in the tailgate and either wax or shoot with clear .
I remember when full sized station wagons ruled the vast American roads .
I really liked the TH350C slush boxes, the lockup torque converter was, IMO the perfect solution, leave it locked out around town then engage it on the open road for decent fuel economy .
? Is this the same 307 V8 that Chevy used and everyone cursed back then or a true B.O.P. engine ? .
-Nate
The Olds 307 is different than the Chevy 307, and I know this not because I’m a mechanics guy, but because my auto encyclopedia shows a different bore and stroke for each engine.
I also now wonder how hard it would be to apply new Di-Noc.
Joe, a lot of us in SoCal gained perspective on possessions in the aftermath of the fires last year. Almost everyone knows someone – and many of us on the West Side know many – who lost everything.
My 80+ year old retired optometrist, who built his home in the Palisades in 1974, barely had time to get out – and they lost everything. His son, who was born the year the house was built, said it is eery returning to a neighborhood where everything you grew up with – neighbors’ homes, schools, shops, offices, absolutely everything – is gone. Another friend in the Palisades, in her 80s, said every time you reach for something is a reminder that you don’t have it or it is a replacement for something gone. My friends who lost their home in the Eaton fire were on vacation at the time so at least had suitcases with clothes. But those recently inherited photo albums never digitized – gone.
I was one of the lucky ones – had to briefly evacuate and fire was close but the winds shifted and everything saved. I was forced to think about what possessions meant most when grabbing things to leave, and later to evaluate stuff to make it easier the next time. Ultimately it has led to some useful decluttering as in your case. Thanks for another thoughtful piece.
Thank you for this, which puts a lot into valuable perspective. I can’t imagine having one’s entire environmental history wiped out by a catastrophic fire.
This is not downplay that I had experienced an impactful loss, but I suppose the permanence of loss by fire could seem just as, if not more, traumatic. What hurt for me was the voluntary parting with things. I had told friends that filling up dumpsters worth of my former possessions had felt a little like experiencing a fire without the actual fire.
Still, I’m glad that you yourself were spares. My hole for those who had experienced loss as a result of those major fires will eventually come to accept their new normal.