The past few months have been spent helping my elderly uncle downsize his possessions, sell his home and move into a retirement complex. It’s been quite a learning experience. One of our biggest take-aways is this: no matter the real or perceived value of your items, no-one wants them. Not really anybody.
In a two-story West Allis home, Mike, my uncle, and his wife spent over 40 years accumulating stuff. Some of it they purchased to furnish and maintain their home, many things they inherited from deceased parents and siblings, other pieces were gifts (anniversary, Christmas, birthday, going-away, get-well, etc.) and much of the extra was my uncle’s way of indulging his wife’s many passions. Elvis Presley, jewelry and crafting were on the top of that very long list.
In their home, very few things were ever tossed. Consequently, the first day of downsizing and every day from then on has been a monumental struggle to disperse thousands and thousands of items. Collector plates, tools, music boxes, gardening supplies, brandy decanters, Christmas ornaments, bed linens, artwork, pots and pans, silverware, drapes, chairs, cabinets, vintage pottery, glassware, memorabilia, holiday decorations, old dolls, books and so much more had to be moved. It’s staggering to think about, especially considering how much we still have to dislodge.
Months ago we started inviting people over to come take what they wanted. Who could pass up such a deal? Most everybody, it seems. What my uncle thought were heirlooms were handily dismissed by the younger members of our family. Pennies on the dollar (if we were even lucky enough to find a buyer) were sadly made on all the things my aunt was told were collectibles. Appraised items that had substantial value just five years ago couldn’t even be given (yes, given) to antique dealers.
A 3-day estate sale, a weekend moving sale, Craigslist and Goodwill have made a dramatic dent in my uncle’s worldly possessions. Throughout it all, he remained stoic as nephews chose not to take his prized beer stein collection or the many tools lining his garage wall. He quietly stood by when Elvis memorabilia (an original “investment” of thousands of dollars) was sold for a pittance. He walked away from comments such as, “Will you take 10¢ for the whole box?”
Instead, Mike looks forward to moving day and the bright, airy, lake-side apartment that awaits him. We’re working as hard as we can to get him there as quickly as possible. He’s optimistic about his future, new friends and new experiences. As for the past? No-one really wanted it. I don’t want to imagine how lonely that must have felt.