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There are a couple of reality television shows that crop up around three in the morning. They show up just when Iâ€™m trying to talk myself out of greeting the new day. Who getâ€™s up at 3 a.m. anyway?
I guess itâ€™s just me.
Iâ€™m a â€śmorning personâ€ť and an insomniac, but Iâ€™ve watched those reality shows featuring people whose homes are over-run with â€śstuffâ€ť as long as I can endure. This thing called â€śhoardingâ€ť is getting a bad rap in my opinion. Why not call them â€śsuper collectors?â€ť
Itâ€™s considered a form of insanity by the psychiatric crowd, but I believe itâ€™s a noble habit. Who would still be able to find a costume for a 1950s party if not for hoarders? Who would be able to collect old bottles, early American cooking utensils, or hand hewn furniture?
The old walnut Victorian bed I sleep in was reclaimed from a dump. My mother in law picked it up and stored it in her garage until I spied it 40 years ago â€“ it was covered by dirt dauber nests. I refinished it and sleep like a baby â€“ well, until about 3 a.m.
I used to think my grandmotherâ€™s generation hoarded because of the Great Depression. They valued possessions and never wasted anything. You remember them - â€śthe eat-everything-on-your-plate-generation, because the children in China are starving.â€ť
Now the kids in China are eating OUR lunch.
Iâ€™m not so sure a little hoarding is bad. There are people in this world who just value their culture and want to make it available to future generations.
Thatâ€™s why I canâ€™t part with this early 20th century Underwood Typewriter thatâ€™s been living in my guest room closet for ten years. I can barely pick it up. I tried to weigh it on my bathroom scales but the digital readout said â€śEâ€ť â€“ for error. Apparently it weighs more than I do!
I canâ€™t throw away my motherâ€™s winter coat. She died in 1977 but it still smells like her perfume.
I cannot throw away the last piece of Poppy Trail china that I was given when I married. Itâ€™s ugly as sin and the husband is long gone, but that ugly piece of china reminds me that you canâ€™t make love work with material things.
I still have a swatch of hair from my two sons before they had their first hair cuts. If all this makes me a hoarder, so be it. But I may have to go rent a storage unit in which to deposit all my memorabilia which no longer fits in my drawers and closets.
Emily Jones is a retired journalist who edits a website for bouncing baby boomers facing retirement. She welcomes comments at www.deludeddiva.com.View more articles in: