That’s a Lot of Costume Jewelry!

          I don’t remember being in the ward when the name of Roland and his sons were read over the podium for new membership records. They must have been read the week that mom and I went out of town.

          It was September of 2000.  We had gone to San Francisco to clean out my grandma’s apartment.  A place that housed her possessions but she had not actually lived there for over a year – and yet the rent was still being paid.  How wasteful.

          Mom and I lined the halls with donations.  We had called Salvation Army, DVA, any thrift store or charity that would come.  Nobody would take it all, but every organization took a lot.  Hard to believe that apartment actually held all that much.  I never knew what a very Large apartment my grandmother lived in.

          We designated each room for different things.  We had a garbage room, a record room, a knickknack room, a poison room.  Mom hadn’t lived in San Francisco for years.  It’s not as though either one of us knew our way around – or even had the transportation to do so.  We didn’t know the proper method for disposing all of the pills we found, or the dozen or so ketchup bottles that had been on the shelf for the last 25 years and would have asphyxiated us if they had broken.

We could have probably made a few bucks had we had the means to transport the many items to pawn shops or antique stores.  But alas, we were there for only six days.  And six days was not enough to even to clean even just one room – though we did manage to find the closet with the hideaway bed. 

My grandma went through various stages of being extremely heavy and actually having lost the weight.  Complete wardrobes in various sizes – why would she hang on to all those clothes?  How in the world did she ever find anything?  Maybe she couldn’t – and that is why she continued to purchase.

We discovered actual rooms that had been used as closets.  Tons and tons of clothes.  Enough to clothe all the homeless people of San Francisco.

We would venture out only once a day.  Grab something to eat and dispose of items that the charities and another organizations wouldn’t take.  Or else we would go to the bank and make deposits.  We actually found the nation’s penny shortage in my grandma’s apartment.  Last day.  No time for the bank.

Mom put the many rolls of pennies into a backpack  to carry on the plane.  I laughed when the alarm went off.  After checking her bag, they let her through.  I’m thinking that she wouldn’t have been able to board the plane with all the securities that were added to (and continue to add) just one year later.

Grandma was a hoarder.  As soon as mom and I returned home, we were able to tackle our own basement.  We threw things away.  Many things.  For mom’s house was so much bigger than Grandma’s apartment, and what a nightmare that would be many years down the road when someone else (most likely her children) would have to come clean.  Neither of us believed it would be so soon.  Neither one of us ever imagined that we would have to put mom in a home.  Not my mom.  Not her mom. 

While growing up, I remember mom wearing a variety of jewelry.  I’m not certain when it stopped.  But there came a time she really didn’t wear jewelry all that much.  And yet she seemed to inherit a large portion of costume jewelry from each of my grandmas after they had passed.  She still has them.  I don’t know why.  I don’t recall ever having seen her wear any of it.

My mom has not passed, but we have gone through her possessions as though maybe she has.  Making use of what we can or selling whatever can be sold.  Kayla and Corey are both having a hard time with it as they are still her possessions and she is still alive.  But she’s got dementia.  And she doesn’t remember as much as she did just a few years ago.  And she doesn’t even remember her house anymore – let alone her possessions.

Just a few months ago, I can remember asking her about items that I knew were hers.  She didn’t claim them however.  In her mind, almost everything in the house belonged to Nate – my niece’s husband. They lived in mom’s basement – still do. But they do not own everything.  But mom’s reality is so much different from our own.

Jenna had a grand time sorting through all of the jewelry that mom had accumulated.  None of us wear jewelry.  Sunny does once in a while.  Ellen and I think they’re quite bothersome.  Jenna would take it all if she could.  But she doesn’t need it.  And yet she appreciates it more than each of us do.  It’s beautiful.  It’s feminine.  It has a different value to eight year old eyes than those of us who are over twenty.

Sunny would like the beads – not to wear but to tear apart and use for bracelets that will be created by her preschoolers.  Go for it, Sunny.  How exciting it will be for my grandmothers to see their jewels shared joyfully among so many – even if they are just three and four.  For theirs is a pure joy.  You don’t see that much excitement among as many adults.

Mom had closets full of clothes as well.  Mostly in three sizes.  A lot of clothes – but not enough to clothe all the homeless.  Not enough to fill as many bags as her mom had.  Not enough to line the stairs from her apartment on the third floor to the downstairs lobby.  Still more than one person needs.  But not nearly outrageous as her mom.

Actually there are not as many beads in the collection as there were tons of clothes in grandma’s apartment.  It actually makes it easier for me to toss things so my kids won’t have to.  I don’t wish to be a hoarder.  I may be hoarding memories.  I’ve saved a lot for Jenna.  We are 42 years apart.  I figure she will need something.  But I want her to want it.  I don’t want her to be the one cleaning up after me saying, “What the heck was mom thinking?  Nine staplers.  Who needs nine staplers?” 

Okay, maybe that’s a bit of an exaggeration.  Before inheriting my mom’s desk supplies, I only had two staplers.  I think I now have seven . . . I had expressed interest in using her unused notebooks and other desk supplies.  Ellen took it to mean that I wanted everything that had ever been in the desk. I think I got it all.

For the most part, most everything I took was practical and in no way had any sentimental value.  I asked for lidded containers and space makers and forks and plates.  They didn’t even have to be good ones. 

I had had my eye on mom’s knives ever since she bought them.  Ellen had wanted them too.  So I let her have them.  I know she will take better care of them than my household will. 

We’re getting things from Carrie’s grandmother as well.  It’s been five years since anyone has lived in the trailer that she and Randy will be moving to.  It’s actually not bad.  It’s a lot roomier than our current house.

Roland.  He’s a hoarder.  And so is our brother-in-law, Bill.  Kayla and I have both gotten rid of a lot.  And our husbands have managed to replace it within days.  So for those of you who read my blog, please pass this message onto my children: Mommy hoarded memories, but it was daddy who filled the space by hoarding more unnecessary stuff..