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Live Like You Were Moving
In 2004, Tim McGraw recorded Live like you were dying, a song that held the #1 position on the national music charts for seven weeks. The song reminds us to live to avoid regrets and undone things.
No, I am not dying. I am doing something senior citizens do slightly less commonly than dying: moving closer to kids and grandkids. Not far. About 10 miles south, still an easy commute to Poulsbo Municipal Court and my hometown for 46 years, Poulsbo.
Our move is more common than not. From a big house to a one-level (No stairs! A line of mine is “I used to have a fear of failing, now I have a fear of falling!”) rambler, two blocks away from a son, his wife and two grandkids.
Moving has required my wife and me to take stock of those put-off tasks. No more “We’ll do that next spring.” Next spring we’ll be living somewhere else.
Our mantra (involuntarily) changed from “We’ll get to that when we can” to “Evaluate, keep only things we will use, donate, throw away.”
Looking through photos and culling the duplicates, uninteresting, or no-people, scenery pictures was a chore often slowed by moments of memory and nostalgia. There were many memories that brought up an experience, adventure or person for a smile and, often, remembrance. But, also, there were many photos that brought on “Yes, the Indian Paint Brush in Yellowstone Park in 1986 was lovely, but not worth saving.” Now, those photos are shredded.
I don’t know how I ended up with 53 different golf course pencils and 13 baseball-style hats with varying fly fishing shop and golf course logos. I must have thought “You can’t have enough.” Well, when you are moving, you can.
Through the process of moving I have learned many things about moving, and aging, and me. Lessons learned in the process include
1. Many things will be harder to get rid of than you imagine. A generation ago, many women had cedar chests. Few do now. Fortunately, my niece Jenny was delighted to take Grandma Tolman’s chest, and the piano that has been in our family since 1938. I have always been a collector. Golf ball markers. Sports autographs. Coins. I still have my baseball cards from my Little League years. Each was fun to collect, less fun to move.
2. Many people will tell you “Just give me a call. I’ll be happy to help you move.” An inordinate number will have uncancellable plans on the time and date you need them.
3. The stuff in the garage attic you have planned to clean out for years is still there. Thinking about getting to it won’t change a thing. Moving is a verb, an action word, not a meditational act.
4. Live like you’ll be moving again in the future. Keep what you’ll use, get rid of what you won’t.
5. Be prepared to discover that your kids don’t want the “treasures” you have been saving for them over the decades. Though you can’t throw away the boxes of participation trophies, macaroni art and stories like “Fighting the Bear” they authored, they would prefer you did, rather than put them in the position to dispose of the items.
6. No one needs more than two cookbooks. Cookbooks are very heavy to move and all the recipes you’ll ever want or need are on the internet. Yes, it is nostalgic to read Mom’s handwritten recipes for sugar cookies and divinity, but how important will the recipe box be to your kids when you pass?
7. Spend one evening sitting in the living room, talking about the memorable times, events and people who have joined you there. Saying “goodbye” is an important part of closure before moving.
8. Most importantly, don’t leave the disposal of items to the kids when you die. I was once Personal Representative for a lady I had only met twice, who I didn’t know where she lived until she passed. Drudging through each a room of her house was simply work. No joy. An interesting find once in a while. Mostly just hard work. I have often heard people profess that “I’d do anything for my family.” OK, then, live like you were moving. To avoid regrets and undone things.
Copyright Jeff Tolman 2024. All rights reserved.
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