Lawdy-Lawdy, Miss Mawdy!

Hello, my name is Susan and I'm a collector.
I like my stuff. Yeah, I know I've got too much, too many things sitting on shelves, on end tables, hung on walls, stacked behind cabinet doors. All this might make some folks get nervous twitches and they'd mistakenly call it clutter. I've been accused of thinking that every flat surface must have something on it. But I like everything I have and enjoy remembering where the various items came from...whether as gifts from family members and friends or purchases I made myself. Lenox china birds, blown glass figures, Mama's pottery, clocks of all sorts, decorative pillows, china teacups, silver pieces, hundreds of books, a collection of framed art by local artists, a myriad of framed photos, and just individual "pretties" -- all hold special memories. There's history and a story behind everything. Someone, not a close friend, told me one day that my decorating style appeared to be "eclectic." From looking at her straight face, it was difficult to determine if she meant it as a compliment or as a comment that my way of adorning a room was pathetic. I could hardly wait until she left my house so I could run look up that E-word in the dictionary. I decided to take it as "mixture" is good.

The crowning blow came one day as I was sifting through a box of old photographs and gazed at one, silently forming the question, "Hmmm, I wonder which gift shop I was in to take this photo?" I scarcely had finished the thought when, out loud, I said, "Lawdy-Lawdy, Miss Mawdy, that's MY living room, MY wall of shelves with all MY stuff!" Was I mortified? Sort of, temporarily, but I must say that everything was arranged really neatly! I pay attention to those HGTV programs that are always giving good decorating tips, and Martha Stewart has nothing on me when it comes to artfully arranging stuff! The feather duster is my friend. I've learned to swish it around and quickly back up a couple of steps, just getting clear of the dust bunnies that try to follow me to the next shelf.

My sons tell me they don't want anything I've collected. I understand their reasoning.
Their lifestyles are very casual and light-years different from mine since they live out west and I'm in the south. Honestly, I don't get offended when they tell me this as they walk around the rooms of my house, looking at my assortment of everything and rolling their eyes. I believe they are already thinking with dread in their hearts, "We'll have to tag every single item and have a gigantic yard sale if something happens to Mama." I really do understand their dilemma. But hope springs eternal: I have five young grandchildren, and surely one or all of them would choose lots of my treasures to keep to remember me by. Yeah, that's why I don't get rid of anything...my "grands" will appreciate all this stuff one future day. Surely.

Oh my goodness, I just thought of something -- when I'm gone and my boys discover that one of my keys leads to...dah-doom, dah-doom...a leased mini-warehouse unit filled with more stuff, do you reckon they'll holler like banshees and pull out their hair? Lawdy-Lawdy, can I get a witness?

Story ID:	4112
Written by:	Susan Hammett Poole (bio, contact, other stories)
Story type:	Musings, Essays and Such
Location:	LaGrange GA USA
Year:	2008
Person:	myself