As we socially distance and self quarantine and occupy our time in ways productive, I have been pulling every weed in my yard, ironing all those clothes in that pile in the hamper, and polishing all of the silver
Polishing
Polishing
Polishing
Which, for odd reasons, makes me think of all that pre-Covid nonsense about “No One Wants Your Stuff” and “Death Cleanse” and “Grandmillennial”
All of that seems so silly now
Plus, I’ll take all the silver
Really
All of it
I’m sure it has a disinfectant quality (n.b. these statements have not been evaluated by the FDA, EPA, SC DHEC, or your mama)
They say brown furniture is making a come back
Where did it go?
Our decorating style is called Early Dead People as we love to use that which is inherited
I don’t speak Swedish
I don’t do Ikea
I speak Hepplewhite, Sheraton, Chippendale, Regency, the Brothers Adam
Adamsesque is one of best adjectives in the world
Duly noting all of that, and thinking a lot these days, one of the worst weekends of my life involved helping to clear out my maternal grandparents’ house of furniture, all browned and Hepplewhited and patinaed
Marble tops
Turned legs
Pieces from great great grandparents from Virginia
Mahogany
Walnut
Maple
Rosewood
My grandfather had died two years prior
My grandmother decided to break up housekeeping
She would be moving to an assisted living facility close to one of my aunts
Breaking up housekeeping
That may be only a term my family uses
Breaking up housekeeping
Distributing to children, grandchildren, nieces, nephews
My grandparents’ siblings all broke up housekeeping at one point
I remember when my Aunt Virginia broke up housekeeping
I remember when my Aunt Marion broke up housekeeping
Now, it’s called downsizing
But, back in 1998, it was called hell
Hell
My grandmother’s breaking up housekeeping remains literally one of the most traumatic experiences of my life
Same with my wife who was then my fiancée who should have broken up housekeeping with me before we even started
What a break up it was
I still process it
My Aunt Em, my cousin Marion (nicknamed Manny), my darling fiancée, and I literally broke up my grandparents’ household
In the summer
In Columbia, South Carolina
If you know anything about South Carolina geography, well, then, you can confirm that during our hot, humid, scorching summers only a broken screen door separates Columbia and the fires of Hades in those months
The summer my soon to be bride and I were studying for the South Carolina Bar Exam
The summer we had the added burden of helping clear out my grandparents’ house
I still don’t know where my mother and my other maternal aunt were during that weekend of blood, sweat, and tears
I actually cut myself on something
Bled like a stuck pig
So much sweat
Tears of sadness for what had been and knowing that it would be no more
I still don’t know where my two brothers and three first cousins were during that time
All I know is that we five intrepid souls were there in the heat of the last weekend in June
making numerous runs to the trash dump
pulling out a drawer stuffed with washed, cleaned, and neatly folded plastic bread bags and twist ties
disposing of so many packets of ketchup, jelly, nondairy creamers all taken from restaurants
emptying the back of the pantry of what had become biological weapons in the form of canned goods hoarded since the Kennedy administration
wondering why there was an entire drawer of rubber bands
discarding so many old Southern Livings and Field and Streams and National Geographics
taking shoes to the Goodwill
rifling through sock drawers stuffed to the gills with pairs of socks many of which were missing a mate
cussing in the heat
going in and out of the house so often that the air conditioning failed
tripping on piles of old tupperware, I Can’t Believe it’s Not Butter containers, plastic sherbet bins long cleaned of their lemon, orange, or rainbow contents
asking why letters from people none of us knew where lodged in the drawers of the large butler’s secretary in the living room
“Who the hell is this person?” asked my Aunt Em upon reading one of the letters out loud to us
“Wisconsin? Mama doesn’t know anyone in Wisconsin”
Yet, there was copious correspondence from this lady in Wisconsin
Flipping the back of the envelopes
Names
More names
“Oh, I remember,” my Aunt said with her memory jogged reading one of the letters. “That was a distant Boerner cousin who married a fellow from Milwaukee. I had no idea Mama kept up with them. Kin to the Huguenins, too. Grandaddy’s people.”
I had no idea of whom she spoke
My cousin Manny snorted, “Em, we don’t have time to read all that. We’re breaking up housekeeping!”
Serious as the heart attacks awaiting us in the heat
That is some serious bidness
Breaking up housekeeping
Manny would throw something in a Hefty trash bag in a New York nanosecond
“Y’all, why in the WOLRD did they keep all this? You know I had to do this for Aunt Jane, too?”
In one bathroom there were at least four cans of partially used AquaNet
In another bathroom there were towels too thin to be used yet too thick to be discarded
How many sets of sheets does one bed need?
Apparently linen closets full
Costume jewelry?
Come and get it
The grenade that Uncle Capers brought back from World War I?
“Don’t worry; it’s a dud”
Jade from someone’s trip to Japan?
Ceramic flowers?
Grape clusters made from marble?
If this sounds like your grandparents’ houses, please raise your hands
Articles state that breaking up housekeeping can be super traumatic
Believe you me
It is
For those doing the heavy lifting
During that weekend, my dear Manny and I were making a run to the dump when she looked at me and said, “Oh, Dear Gawd, I’m going home and throwing away half of what I own”
That statement has stayed with me through the years
My maternal grandparents had lived through the deprivations of the South during the early twentieth century, the Great Depression, and World War II
They saved everything
I do not
If you write me a lovely letter, I will read it, then I will recycle it
If you give me a fabulous gift that I do not love, I will re-gift it or pass it on or donate it
If you pass on to me my third grade report card, I will smile at those memories and recycle it immediately
My grandparents had already given away china, silver, furniture, jewelry
The good stuff
But, oh there was so much else
SO MUCH ELSE
At my grandparents house, we found all kinds of things no one wanted
We found threadbare throw rugs
We found old curlers
We found boxes of hair pins
We found sweaters with moth holes
We found my grandfather’s ties and suits long out of style
We found old bank statements stuffed in a drawer
We found tubes of lipstick with only remnants in the bottom yet still sitting on a dressing table
We found desiccated perfume bottles
We found random coffee cups given away as promotions at banks
We found old calendars
We found unfilled books of Greenbax stamps
We found cookbooks
We found shoe boxes without shoes
We found faded tintypes of family members that none of us knew and who none could recognize due to sun exposure
We found a photograph in a frame written on the back “Aunt Georgie” who looked like our people but Georgie who?
We found numerous copies of the South Caroliniana Magazine of the South Carolina Historical Society
We tossed it all
Except the tintypes and Aunt Georgie
Mean as hell
No mercy shown
Breaking up housekeeping for my grandparents made me the most cynical of housekeepers
When in doubt, throw it out
When we break up housekeeping for my parents’ and in-laws, I will be the one shaking my head “No” when asked if we should keep something
Adding to the contents of the local dump in what we hope will be the far distant future
Soberly
Stoically
Apathetically
I will toss it all
But, I’m keeping the silver
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Dad, what's for supper? 