This morning I needed some hand lotion for these dry, chubby hands, so I pulled out a mini container I found in my bathroom drawer.
It was a cute little bottle, square with curly-q lettering and designs. A hotel personal size bottle. And I wondered.
Where did I get this? Which hotel did I go to that I thought it neat to take my room sample? How old was this bottle?
Admit it. Many/Most of us have at one time or another taken home hotel soaps and shampoos and hand lotions for future use. Or souvenirs. And then promptly forgotten about them.
Why do we feel like we’ve won the lotto when we bring home a little something “extra”?
Why do we want to keep a souvenir of something that, half the time, we forget about?
I’ve been “downsizing” for quite some time now, going through and (hopefully) getting rid of stuff that I once though was cool yet haven’t looked at in years. I keep the kids art projects and that’s about it.
I feel like the little old man who keeps pieces and sets and odd items “just in case I need them someday” and winds up filling up the basement and barn with maybes.
I’m not a hoarder, but I have cleaned out the house of one. Twice.
I’ve seen the stress on those who are left behind to sort and throw away and pack away things that someone else at one time thought important.
I know people who have grandma’s china and grandma’s grandma’s china and great aunt Mabel’s china all packed away in boxes hidden in the basement. I know people with libraries full of books that they’re either read and never going to read again and books they hoped to read were either forgotten or not interesting anymore.
I know people who kept grandfather’s watch and grandfather’s broken watch and daddy’s first watch and uncle Pete’s watch that’s missing a stem all in a box inside a box inside a box stashed under the basement stairs.
All I’m saying is some things are worth saving because they’re important. That importance depends on the holder. Handing down an ancestor’s precious memorabilia is an honorable trait.
But holding on to things that you never look at or never re-experience is a waste of time, space, and heart. Once you are gone, those who clean up after you will have no idea of the “importance” of all of the things you’ve collected through the years and will wind up sending it to Good Will anyway.
I laughed because I didn’t want my kids’ last memories of me to be some souvenir bottle of hand lotion that has never been opened.
Go through your stuff. Keep the important things. The meaningful things. That’s why you kept them in the first place. But you don’t need to forever hold onto some else’s memories. Recycle them, sell them, toss them, give them away.
Keep memories alive by sharing them with others instead of keeping physical reminders buried in your bottom drawer.
Living in Harlem, he joined a Black artists group and became excited about modern art, particularly, 
Humoring the Goddess 