The Throw Away

 

In my constant effort to rid myself of clutter, here is another chapter of ‘The Throw Away’.

Being a typical American, I was a dedicated follower of consumerism. I believed the instructions to purchase the latest version to conform. Keep up with the Jones and don’t get left behind.

Double knit bellbottoms was last year’s fashion. Everyone is switching from compacts to SUVs. The boxy television is now flat. Carry your phone with you and upgrade your version of software. Rubik’s cube is now TelleTubbies or vice versa.

Do you have the latest and greatest model of vacuum cleaner? Dishwasher? Grill? Lawnmower? Hammer?

Only when your items show up on the ‘vintage’ or ‘antique’ list will they have any value, if not already broken. There are hand-me-downs, family heirlooms, donations, yard sales and eventually…trash.

Clothing has always bothered me. My brother was so much older than me that I didn’t get his old dudes to wear. My parents were frugal enough that wear and tear took care of any question of what to do with old clothing.

Gently worn coats are easy to donate in winter, along with scarf’s, gloves and wool caps, but I get squeamish to anything that touches your skin. Wearing someone else’s trousers, no matter how many types of washing, just seems icky. Hope no one donates underwear.

Shelves and closets and attics and storage sheds are full of perhaps once sensible purchases that are no longer useful but cannot be departed with. Are we so loyal to these items we cannot pass them on?

Out of site, out of mind… until we trip over them trying to get to the shoehorn. Even thought they annoy, are they so dear to us as not part with them, like grandma?

Here is my latest example of ‘The Throw Away’.

Three stockpots.

These have traveled with me through probably 55 years. They came from the Downtown Club (probably for some Thanksgiving dinner) and never returned. Probably picked up but never used, they traveled to three kitchens. Shoved under sinks or into attics, used for storing sponges or other non-used kitchen utensils.

With the winter coming and the thought of making a big pot of stew or chili, I looked at this trio of stainless steel covered in dust. I’d had a large slow cooker that I got rid of and then bought another crock-pot. I’d purchased a matching large pot to match the other pots and pans on the stove, yet never used. I even went out last year and bought a big heavy red iron Dutch oven that is still sitting in the sink to be cleaned from last February’s chili feast.

This trio would be perfect for an army bivouac or a soup kitchen. They might bring in some coins sold on eBay but mailing would be difficult. The truck that drives up the alley every week to pick up broken bicycles and old bed frames before the city hauled them away had already passed.

This morning, the Department of public works, Solid Waste Division, Refuse Collectors hauled them away to an unknown fate.

Along with that much delayed throw away was a stack of annual reports from a company I was employed that no longer exist, piles of decade old memos, newsletters and instructional booklets, an electric knife, newspaper articles so old they crumbled and sketches and notes for art projects that never happened. After years of neglect and no use in the foreseeable future, they all went to the landfill.

There is a mental cleansing to ‘The Throw Away’. There will be questions of why they were saved for so long. There will also be memories like the jacket you wore in college or your first wife.

Fear not, there is still plenty of accumulation to fill an estate sale, but those three stockpots are history (to me).

Now to figure out why I have four vacuum cleaners with more dust on the outside than inside?