To heave or not to heave
Linda McCarthy
There are two types of people in the world: throwers and savers. I’m a definite thrower. The rule of thumb is, "If you haven’t used it in a year, throw it out." I toss stuff I haven’t used in an hour. I know that sounds impractical and wasteful, but I don’t have anything that great to start with so it’s no big loss.
My husband is a thrower but only when it comes to my things. We’ve cleaned out the garage 10 times and I’m still looking at his father’s incomplete set of broken golf clubs. Meanwhile, I’ve had to retrieve my garden tools from the curb at least three times. Inspecting each other’s garbage pile is a little game we like to play that guarantees we’ll never be able to get the car in there.
I spent the week with my mother who is a definite saver. It was grueling. I had a little chat with her suggesting we start sorting through her things. Eventually the time will come when my siblings and I will have to put our lives on hold for two years while we decide if Christmas cards from 1987 are worth keeping. But, if we each do a little with every visit, it won’t be so overwhelming. It was a hard sell and to most people it may sound callous, but I’m a realist.
It will take months just to sort through the boxes of paper she has accumulated. It seems she is inordinately cautious when it comes to identity theft. Even grocery lists must leave no trace of origin. She’s waiting to shed everything, but the last shedder burned out from overuse. By the way, even though it doesn’t work anymore she didn’t throw it out. I think she’s expecting it to miraculously heal itself.
I realize I was asking a lot from her. Savers have real, visible anxiety when faced with the challenge of letting go. I promised I wouldn’t get rid of anything without her approval, so I sat her at the table and we started in the kitchen. The woman lives alone. She had seven coffee pots. I let her keep two. She had enough drinking glasses to outfit a restaurant supply warehouse. Unfortunately, most were one of a kind and chipped. She had rubber bands, wine corks and mysterious keys. The list was endless.
By the end of the day, we had gathered up three big boxes for donations and six mega garbage bags full of unusable items. I could tell she was getting nervous. She started suggesting I was throwing out good things that my sisters would want. I am not one to speak for my sisters, but I can almost guarantee they would not be interested in four cabinets worth of 30-year-old, lidless Tupperware complete with tomato sauce stains. I could be wrong; my younger sister is also a saver. I like to think I saved her from having to make the decision.
Linda McCarthy resides in Robbinsville with her husband and three children.

