Nancy Williams: Purging piles of belongings sounds easy. It’s not.

With warmer weather afoot, folks are starting spring cleaning. For me, I’m continuing it. Day 376 of purging. Rehoming an item a day. I’ve come many miles, but have more to go. Pretty sure I’ll be finished by the time I’m 90 years old. At least that’s the goal.

Having had different versions of Me vs. the Garage for nearly a decade, I finally realized my usual “get it done” work style was actually an obstacle for ridding stuff from my house. There’re different kinds of purging -- the aggressive and the gentle. Averse to dumping loads off at a profit-making ‘charity’ store, I do better when I take the time to find a place for items where they are needed or will be used.

Also, the Marie Kondo method doesn’t work for me. She suggests thanking an item for its service and letting it go. Feels disloyal. Some of your junk has been through a lot with you. That’s not how we should treat possessions or friends. Finished with you, so goodbye.

My sons aren’t into sentimental belongings. Don’t save stuff for us, they’ve said. They don’t understand the amount of stuff I’ve accumulated and have been clear than when I die, they will wait a week, then back a truck (or three) up to the house and haul it all away.

I’ve overheard Sons explain the clutter to their friends as my mom thinks she grew up in the Depression. She saves everything. Everything.

Part of saving is indeed frugality. It’s also a sense of service to others. Somebody need a hammer? I guarantee I have an extra one or four. Here, take one.

My kids say the piles of garage stuff I’ve amassed is mine, not theirs. Really? Can’t quite recall why I bought myself this archery set with 60 arrows. Or this 40-pound bucket of Legos. These books on Algorithm Engineering or WW2 Aircraft Defense Systems … I know I meant to read those. May still.

I remind Sons I’ve had help with the growing collection. When they were teens, they liked to mess with me by adding odd random things to my stuff. I’d open a spice drawer and find a little plastic hand in it. Or dig around in the garage and come across a bass trophy.

Now Sons are moving things the other direction. I go to put a bag in the big trash bin and see an old throw pillow in there. Or a photo frame. Things of mine I know I didn’t throw away. Last week a sleeping bag. And a miniature bear. A bag of marbles.

We disagree about whether the things from their childhoods belong to them or me. I think their little drawings and favorite toys are mine to keep. They think their younger day flotsam and jetsam belong to them and that they can toss it out.

I used to be in the camp of “no, don’t completely clean out your room when you move out” so I’d still have the spirit and memories my boys in the house. Now I’m understanding better the parents who were pretty quickly of the mindset “pack up and take your doodads with you when you next visit or I assume you don’t want it.”

Much of what I’ve gathered over time has happened because I had space when a friend or family member needed a place to store things. How can you say no to someone who needs room because they are in a life transition? Hoarding out of empathy and thoughtfulness.

And yet. It’s too easy for folks to store and forget. One of the most inconsiderate things I know of that me or my friends deal with is when an erstwhile “between places to live” relative or adult child lands in a residence of their own, they prioritize retrieving their belongings from your house. “I don’t want to mess up my house with my miscellaneous storage debris, I’d rather it stay in your house.”

As adult kids age, I’ve been told there are fewer problems, but that the problems are more complicated. With spouses, jobs, finances, children. There can be hard and thorny things our adult kids deal with. Lots of pain and growth and scars.

But leaving piles of your abandoned possessions in your parent’s house is not one of them. Get your stuff out. Now.

As I move through the things left behind by my sons, I send a courtesy text photo before I rehome something. Want this? Or better yet … what IS this? A solar charger. Dog puzzle. Teepee covering.

I do the same thing for my sisters. Is this yours? Do you still want it? One of the cool things about sending them photos is that if an item isn’t worth them paying postage for me to mail it to them, it isn’t worth holding on to. Out it goes.

I also refuse to buy anything to declutter. No books on organizing or containers or labels.  Acquiring things to help you get rid of things is going the wrong direction.

A game show I watched asked a question of contestants: what one thing have you almost thrown away, but just couldn’t do it? Good query to launch discussion with my friends. For me the item(s), are the clothes my kids wore as fledgling boys. Seeing little outfits and little shoes jogs my memory into vivid recollection of them as toddlers. Their little winter hats prompt a of flood of memories I’m not sure I could otherwise access.

So I’m still holding on to a few boxes of their little boy clothes. And their elementary school work because it shows how their forming brains were starting to put things together.

But lots of other stuff is headed out the door. A vintage marionette. To be fair, most everything I’m relocating is vintage as I’ve had it for decades and some of it my parents had for decades before that. Carved wooden cardinals on a branch. Glass Disney Christmas ornament from 1980. Framed sepia photo of a curvy woman bathing. Pocketknife collection. Glass prescription medicine bottles. Heavy, marble-top end table. Calligraphy set. Balloon animal supplies. Twenty years of National Geograhpic magazines.

An item at a time, I’m relocating the most amazing hodgepodge of possessions.

This is the opinion of Nancy Williams, the coordinator of professional education at UNC Asheville. Contact her at nwilliam@unca.edu.

This article originally appeared on Asheville Citizen Times: Nancy Williams: Purging piles of belongings sounds easy. It’s not.