I was trying to find an article about downsizing I’d seen but hadn’t saved, so I did a Google search for “getting rid of possessions.” I couldn’t locate the piece I remembered, but—wow!—I did scroll through ten pages of posts addressing this issue.

Who knew this was such a popular topic?

Here was advice on “30 Things to Get Rid of in the Next 30 Days.” I didn’t read it because I have more than a hundred days to finish decluttering and downsizing before I move in January. And by then, my giveaways must total several multiples of 30.

Neither did I click on “How to Get Rid of Everything You Own.” I’m definitely keeping some things.

I did browse a Psychology Today piece, “Why Getting Rid of Things Can Change Your Life.” Its conclusions, listed as three “key points” above the body of the article, offer this advice:

• Owning less leads to a happier and more meaningful life.
• Letting go of unnecessary things clears your physical and mental space.
• You should prioritize experiences over possessions.

All good, but I didn’t read far because I don’t need to change my life; my life has already changed. That’s why I’m moving.

The notion of a fresh start, in a place I’m making purely my own, appeals to me. Especially when it can happen in a totally refurbished “garden home” in the middle of the beautiful and serene Christian Village at Mason.

And the experiences I’m seeking require at least some possessions, for example:

A table to host dinner guests.
A desk with a view for writing.
A second bed and enough linens for out-of-town visitors.

A good reminder

But that Google list did remind me I live in a world filled with too much stuff. And most of us know it.

Sometimes someone takes steps, as one clever writer put it, “to deaccession an assortment of my things by whatever means feasible: selling, donating, recycling, giving them away, losing them on the subway, or reserving a spot for them on the next Mars Explorer.”

But subways and spaceships are out of the question for me, so as I anticipate a move into a place about half the size of my current home, I must come up with other solutions.

I’ve filled my car once or twice to donate old toys, kitchen appliances, and flowerpots. I’ve given away most of my wife’s clothes along with piles of pants and shirts I no longer wear.

Tackling the kitchen

But the process kicked off in earnest this weekend when my daughter came for a quick visit.

“Be thinking of a project,” she tells me every time she comes. A year or two ago, for example, we organized the basement just to make things neater, not because I was planning to move. That resulted in a carload of donations and a pile of trash. It was a good beginning, but only that.

This weekend we tackled the kitchen, along with a giant hutch that belongs to my daughter and will move from my house to hers.

One cabinet, before and after the clean-out. Look at those empty shelves and two more not nearly full! And before we got to it, the cabinet above the microwave was packed to the max with vases.

We finished the day pawing through a big box of autumn decorations. I have no interest in hanging on to all the pumpkin-shaped candle holders, fake gourds, and artificial leaves my wife and I have accumulated.

My daughter took some; I’m keeping a little (for now, at least); and the rest of it joined the junk from earlier in the day, filling six boxes of stuff to donate.

(And we also had filled two garbage cans with odds and ends not even worth donating.)

Pressured = different

It’s interesting to see how different one feels about his stuff when pressured with the impossibility of storing it all. What once seemed special, even necessary, I discarded with abandon.

But I suspect I’m still holding on to items I’ll discover won’t work when I get moved. It’ll be different when all the shelves there are full but not all the boxes are empty. Hmmm . . . the projects for my daughter and me may continue for some time.

*We assembled a parade of plastic on the dining room table. We got rid of any bowl without a lid as well several others.*

Facing the dilemma

Most people my age are facing—or should be facing—the too-much-stuff dilemma. Some wait till their capacities make the process sadly overwhelming. Many ignore it and leave it all for their kids to handle. Even though sometimes it seems to me like I’m taking this step a little early, I’m glad I’m not waiting till it’s too late.

It would have been easier if Evelyn were helping me. She was a master organizer and brutally objective about what we no longer needed. She would be driving the process, and frankly, I don’t relish being behind the wheel by myself. But the aforementioned pressure will keep me at it. And so many have offered to help.

Diminished by age

I can see how the need for stuff diminishes with age. It is almost eliminated by severe illness and disability.

Evelyn’s material needs now are very few; the largest of them are her hospital bed and wheelchair, both on loan to us from Queen City Hospice. It won’t take us long to clean out her room when she no longer needs it. I daresay the car won’t be as full that day as it was for Saturday’s trip to Goodwill.

In our affluent, consumer-driven society, the too-much-stuff dilemma is ever with us. Through the years, I’ve given much thought and many words to it. Now is my chance to take action.

And I know I’m just getting started.