Your Stuff Is Your Story
Does Your Stuff Tell A Story?
I’m writing this with young people in mind who are at the genesis of their independence. I was inspired to write it by too many folks I know in life’s epilogue whose personal space tells notta about what they are passionate about or what gave them pleasure and their life meaning. Their walls are adorned by large landscape art from Hobby Lobby and the furniture is generic geo-appropriate chic. Oh, there is always a table with pictures of their family, but aside from that, it feels like a vacay rental.
Jo and I are surrounded by the life we shared for more than 50 years. Living amongst cherished memories, everywhere we look we see the places we have been, what we have done, and who we met along the way. It comforts me because it’s testimony to a life well lived as opposed to merely existing.
Jo and I moved into our forever home last summer, a small two-bedroom bungalow in the Lakes Region of New Hampshire with the beautiful White Mountains on our doorstep. Our little cottage is in the forest. Deer and fox families frolic every day, and there are so many walking trails that it’s hard sometimes to decide which way to go.
We live modestly, but not meagerly, having all that we need, and a bit more. We are very fortunate and grateful for this life after living in the moment or winging it as I like to say our whole life.
Our belongings are an eclectic mix of all the stuff that caught our fancy over the five decades we scoured yard sales, flea markets, and antique stores across the U.S. and Europe. We don’t have conventional furnishings like a TV stand, office desk or entertainment center. Instead, we repurpose what we have to serve our needs.
Our TV stand is a 4" thick 6' x 3' slab of redwood perched on black pipe. Our stereo receiver, turntable, and vintage vinyl collection are on an old Hunt table rather than an entertainment center.
We have two fireplace mantles even though we have no fireplace. We absconded with one of the mantles when we sold our cabin in the Blue Ridge mountains. It’s now a book and a nick-knack shelf in our living room. The other mantle was huge before Jo and I cut it down by almost half. It makes the perfect TV stand in our bedroom.
We came across a rustic vintage carpenter bench complete with vise at a flea market in the North Georgia mountains. It is our writing desk, bar(I do love a good Speyside scotch), and bookshelf for our Hemingway, Dostoyevski, Gibran, Salinger, and Kerouac collections.
Jo rescued a unique old 8' wooden library-style ladder with wheels from a neighbor’s burn pile in 2019 that he had used many years ago when he worked at the telephone company to scoot down narrow alleys between the bays of circuit cabinets. He couldn’t believe she wanted it. She refinished it some and now it’s in our living room with one of my Mom’s dolls on it.
We bought a 4' bench when we lived in West Germany in the early 80s that has been in every room of the house at one time or another. It was supposedly made from 17th-century Germanic church pews. I’ll have to take their word on that. The wood is very thick and it is deceivingly heavy for its size.
There are a lot of old wooden crates scattered around the house with interesting advertising on them that have been repurposed over the years as bookshelves, pantry organizers, side tables, and catch-alls.
Jo and I had a retail golf and vinyl record business for many years so naturally we had collections of vintage golf clubs and vinyl. We liquidated most of it, but we still have antique golf bags of clubs here and there and several hundred albums on the Hunt table.
Jo is an artist and her art adorns our walls. We had Scottish Terriers for years and we are suckers for vintage Scottys of all sorts who live on nearly every surface. My diner mug collection hangs in the dining nook. What can I say, I love a mug I can hug. And we always have a Scrabble game going.
Jo is an avid, no, voracious reader and I’ll rescue more classics than I’ll ever read so we have hundreds upon hundreds of books on shelves, tables, and floors throughout the house. Yeah, we know we have a problem, but it’s our only one.
There’s even a place for the safari chairs and my old-fart electric recliner! It’s a damn good thing Jo has a flare for decorating.
Bottom line; We may be geriatric, but we’ll never be generic.
