So, here’s a thought: how do we navigate our relationship with all the stuff we’ve got lying around?

Today I will share my thoughts about just that! The episode is packed with nostalgia as I reflect on cherished items that tell stories. I mean, who doesn’t have a favorite childhood book or a stuffed animal they can't forget?

But as we get older, we find ourselves surrounded by more objects than we need. It can feel overwhelming, right? It’s like having a mini museum of our lives. We even ponder what our kids will want when we’re gone. It’s a delicate dance of holding on and letting go.

Throughout this episode, I emphasize that it’s not about the things but about the connections they represent. Let’s face it, those memories and feelings are what really last.

Join me as I navigate this sentimental landscape and give you some ideas about what’s worth keeping and what’s just taking up space!

Takeaways:

• This episode dives into the important connections we have with our belongings, reflecting our past and memories.
• Aging well involves navigating our relationships with both people and the things we hold dear.
• The episode emphasizes that it’s not the objects that matter, but the memories and feelings attached to them.
• Let's chat with our kids about what they really want from our collections; you might be surprised!
• Letting go of items can be tough, but it can also make space for new memories and connections.

Links referenced in this episode:

• “What’s Keeping You Stuck?” quiz
• Late Bloomer Living Podcast

Hello and welcome to Boomer Banter, where we have real talk about aging well. And I am your host, Wendy Green. And every week we have honest conversations about what it really means to grow older in today's world.

We talk about navigating health purpose, relationships, caregiving, and everything in between. So so far this month, we've talked about some of the relationships that we build when we travel.

We've talked about relationships with our adult children and how using texting may be a way to build a communication portal to them. And at the end of this month, we're going to be talking about a very special friendship.

But today I want to talk about something that we oftenly, often goes unnoticed when we think about relationships, and that's our relationship with things. Because the objects that we keep, the dishes, the books, the souvenirs, the keepsakes, they do collect dust, but they carry more than dust.

They carry meaning. They tell the quiet story of who we are, who we've loved and what we've lived through, our history and our family's history.

So I started to think about this because every once in a while, you know, something sparks, a memory of a thing that got left behind. And for me, it was a book. The Children's Garden of Verses. I no longer have this book, although surprisingly, I found that I could get it on Amazon.

But it came to mind as I was trying to think about some of my earliest childhood memories. It was a pretty good sized book, probably 9 by 11, with colorful pages and poems, poems that invited me into another world.

And I remember I would lay in bed as a little girl leafing through the pages, and I felt calm and comforted and maybe that's why I saved the books. My own children loved books like the Little Engine that Could and Shel Silverstein's where the Sidewalk Ends and the Giving Tree.

I loved curling up before bed with my children and reading with them. And later, when my grandchildren were little, I shared those same books with them.

For me, it's not really so much about the books, although I love books. But it's also about the feeling of a small body curled up next to me, the sound of a giggle or the hush before lights out.

The memory lives in that space. It's not in the paper and ink in the book. Sometimes I wonder if my kids or grandkids will ever want those books. I haven't asked.

I'm not sure why, but I know it's time for me to ask. And if they want them. What I think I'm really passing on isn't the books.

It's the feeling of being connected and the love that we shared as we read those books together. And if they don't want them, we still have those memories. And I will donate those books so that another family can build memories with them.

I also want to share another early childhood memory. I was probably nine or so when my dad was hospitalized with pleurisy. In those days, children weren't allowed upstairs in the hospital to visit.

So we met him in the hospital lobby for a Hanukkah celebration. I remember him walking towards us, smiling, holding a huge brown and white stuffed dog. It was almost as big as I was.

I named that dog Gimmel Gimmel after a letter. On the dreidel that means win all. Seeing my dad getting healthy again, that felt like the biggest win of all. And I adored that stuffed dog.

I slept with him every night. I have no idea what became of him. But my children also had many beloved stuffed toys.

And as they grew older, I stored their favorites because I believe that one day they might want them. There was one that was very special to me. It was a little yellow lion, really little, with a red mane that I used to place in their cribs.

I called him Friend. He was so colorful. And they used to stare at this little lion before they could sit up or roll over. He became a favorite of theirs.

Even through their toddler years. And even now, just saying the name Friend makes me smile. I can picture it so vividly. I did pass on the stuffed toys to my kids years ago.

And one of them I know has friends still. But these things, they are stuffed toys, but they're also memories of love, of safety and belonging.

They each had stories attached to them, and that's what made them special, particularly to the kids. Right, because they were their stuffed toys. But Friend was special to me. As I've gotten older, I've held on to certain things that feel sacred.

My grandmother's dishes. Fancy teacups I got at my bridal shower from relatives in Canada. A little collection of ceramic old people that used to sit on my aunt's shelves.

And the dolls my parents brought me home from their travels. And each one of these things has a story. Grandma's dishes. I use them for holiday dinners.

They remind me of so many holiday gatherings at my grandparents home, cousins coming together. Laughter, traditions of foods, and the family gathered around the table.

The dolls remind me that my parents saw me, that they wanted to bring a piece of the world back for me. They knew I was curious and interested in places they Traveled to the fancy teacups. I've gifted them to my daughter already. She has them.

They were her father's side of the family that gave them, so they're special to her. And the ceramic old people I got from my aunt, I love them. I have them displayed in my living room. My aunt was my mother's oldest sister.

She was 16 years older than my mother. She was the matriarch of the family, always so loving. But here's the truth. White kids didn't know my grandmother or my aunt the way I did.

Those objects won't hold the same meaning for them, and that's okay. Their stories will come from different things. Maybe digital photos or concert tickets instead of china plates and ceramic statuettes.

These heirlooms, my aunts and my grandmother's things, are anchors for my memories. And that's what makes them special to me.

If my kids choose, they can continue on holding on to these heirlooms, these legacies, or they can choose to move on and let them go. But sometimes our relationship with things does get complicated.

We start holding on, not because they bring us joy, but because letting go, it's just too hard. It's like losing a part of ourselves, or maybe, you know, being unloyal to the family. And I've asked myself, what will happen to my stuff?

Will my kids want any of it? Well, sometimes the answer is yes. Often the answer is no. And that can be hard to understand.

I would love to think that they would want grandma's dishes and will continue to have family gatherings that include her dishes. But then I realize if they don't, that's not a rejection of me or of grandma's dishes.

That's freedom for them to make their own choices and create their own memories, Just like we have done with the things that we've kept and we've built our memories around. You know what people say who lose everything in a fire or a flood? Well, we got out alive because it's not the things that matter most.

It's the people. It's the memories that live in us, even if the objects are gone. And that realization has helped me start looking around with a different eye.

Sometimes we keep things because we just don't know where to start. I mean, it can be overwhelming sometimes when you look around and you see how much stuff you. You have accumulated.

Other times, we keep them out of guilt or even out of fear. And that's when a little help can go a long way. A professional organizer can bring a fresh perspective.

They're not attached to your things the way you are, and they can help you determine what to keep and what to gift and what to let go of.

Or maybe it's a conversation with your kids about what they might actually want without judgment or making them feel guilty if they don't want your things. You could refer to Marie Kondo's book where she asks, does it spark joy? But as I've grown older, I've learned it's not just about joy.

It's about your identity. So some things connect us to who we are today. Others keep us tethered to who we used to be.

So when you pick up an item, ask yourself, does this connect me to the person I am now? If not, maybe it's time to bless it, thank it, and let it go. And talk with your kids.

You might be surprised what they do want and what they don't want. And you might find that letting go of some things creates space for something new to arrive.

When I look around my office, I see yellow rubber duckies from the charity duck derby I was part of. I see medals from Alzheimer's, fundraising walks, and shelves filled with books. And these things make me happy.

They remind me of my purpose, my community, and my growth. I'm not a minimalist, not even close. I love my pictures, my books, my dishes, my dolls.

But I've learned to ask myself, do these things make me feel alive? Do they reflect who I am today? If the answer is yes, keep them. Use them. Enjoy them. If the answer is no, well, maybe it's time to pass them on.

At our last virtual banter group meeting, which you all are welcome to join us the second Tuesday of the month, we talked about loneliness and connection, and it struck me our things don't hug us back. We don't get loved back from our things.

They can remind us of people, but they can't replace the people that we attach the memories to of those things. If we're lonely, it's not more stuff we need. It's conversation, community, and connection.

Our children and grandchildren probably won't remember us by the things we leave. Maybe a few very special things will hold a memory for them that connect them to us. But more importantly, they'll remember how we made them feel.

The laughter, the guidance, the love, the hugs, the time we spent with them, the time we give to them. That's the legacy that lasts. So maybe the real question isn't, what will they do with our things? Maybe it's, what do these things mean to us?

Now I'll keep my grandmother's dishes because I love using them. I'll keep the dolls and the little ceramic old people because they make me smile.

But when the time comes to downsize, I'll decide again and I'll keep talking to my kids about what matters most, sharing the stories behind the things, not just the things themselves. That is when I can get them here long enough to have those conversations.

But that is my intention when I'm with them, to spend a little time on their visits here to talk to them about things. Because maybe the best legacy isn't what we leave behind, but the stories we share while we're still here.

As you listened to me talk about this stuff, I hope it sparked in you a desire to look around your own home, look at the keepsakes, the photos, the shelves that you have stuff on, and wondering what stories your things tell you. Do they lift you up? Do they reflect the person you are today? If not, maybe it's time for a general refresh.

Maybe not a full purge, but just a pause to reflect, a chance to create space for what's Next Sometimes trying to answer the question of what's next? Feels like you're walking through a fog. You know, it's unclear and murky.

And if you'd like to explore that feeling of being a little stuck, I invite you to take my quiz. My simple little quiz that I made called What's Keeping You Stuck? You can find it at https://bit.ly/NotStuck-Renewed.

It's not very long, but it is an insightful way to see which part of your next chapter is ready for attention and to get a few ideas for moving forward. You'll get some follow up emails with ideas and references to resources that could help you get unstuck.

But sometimes the first step in reinventing yourself after 60 isn't about doing more. It's about releasing what no longer serves you and holding close what truly matters.

As part of the Agewise Collective, which I am a part of, every month we like to recommend one of our members shows. We are a group of 12 women podcasting about different topics to women over 50. So this month I am recommending Late Bloomer Living by Yvonne Marchesi.

She is such an upbeat, enjoyable podcast host. She talks about embracing change, sparking joy and living playfully. That's her big thing.

Find time to play at whatever age you are and she encourages listeners to bloom with the encourage. You can find her LateBloomerLiving.com/podcast so if you drop in, let Yvonne know that you heard about her on Boomer Banter.

I just want to thank you so much for spending time with me. I hope. I hope this has been helpful and that you take care of yourself and think about how to make space for what's next.

Until next time, I'm Wendy Green, and this has been Boomer Banter. See you soon.