I’ve been asking myself some hard questions lately — again. These questions are relentless. Some of them are related to my age. Many revolve around the general question: “If not now – when?”

A question in this category that I ask myself every so often is: “When am I going to “de-junk” my life. I have been an accumulator of stuff for a long time. Is there a time when the tide should turn and I should begin “de-accumulating?”

There was a magic moment in time last Saturday afternoon, when an odd thing happened. I got rid of some clothes. (They’re going to the Deseret Industries (D.I.) thrift store) I took a hard look at my main closet. (Yes, I have clothing in other closets in the house as well.) I gathered up some courage and will power. I steeled myself and then bagged up a good-sized batch of shoes, shirts and pants.

I said, “goodbye” and “thanks for the memories” to those items. It wasn’t easy. I hate to admit this part. Out of quite a few tee shirts that I got rid of, I took pictures of at least three of them. They haven’t been worn in a long time, but were gifts from memorable people — one of them now deceased.

Years ago, clothing was often passed down from one generation to another. Clothing wasn’t cheap and represented a big expense.

Some clothing that I didn’t throw out Saturday was a sport jacket that belonged to my dad. He died in 1984. I still wear the jacket several times a year. Furthermore, if you see me at a rodeo, I’m mostly likely going to be wearing cowboy boots that belonged to my dad.

I was in a church meeting years ago with some of the leadership. They told us that the church’s thrift store, D.I., was reporting that Sanpete should be donating more to the operation. I spoke up and said, “Don’t they know that we’re the ones who buy the stuff from D.I.?”

I often tell people that I become sentimentally attached to clothing that I get at D.I. I have several sport coats that came from that thrift store. Almost always, when I wear one, I have people ask, “Why are you all dressed up today?” And I often answer, “It amazes me that when I put on an $8 jacket from D.I., people think I’m on my way to a funeral.”

I hate to admit it, but it felt kind of good to get rid of some things out of my closet on Saturday. Kinda. I do suspect, that it made my wife feel a little glimmer of hope. For her, any event of me deciding to discard anything is in the same league as if she had won the Publisher’s Clearinghouse Sweepstakes. I guess I can’t blame her.

I’ve seen self-help books about simplifying one’s life. I’ve read parts of some of them. Some of you have heard of Don Aslett. I’m sure, I’ve mentioned him here before. He’s semi-famous and has written 40 books. He used to do lots of television appearances and public speaking events.

He created the “Museum of Clean” in Pocatello, Idaho. It’s more than 74,000 square feet. Among other things, part of the collection is more than 500 historic vacuums. I haven’t visited the museum – yet.

Cleaning and “de-cluttering” are his big areas of focus. He is a strong advocate of the concept that everyone should clean up their own mess. In the 90’s he said, “even if President Bush stayed at my house, he’d know where the vacuum is.”

One book he wrote is called, “Clutter’s Last Stand.” The subtitle of the book is, “It’s Time to De-Junk Your Life.”

Looking at these types of books gives me personal turmoil. The reason for the inner conflict is probably obvious. I am, I admit, a “junkee” (Not to be confused with “junkie”)

By Mr. Aslett’s criteria there is pretty much no question that I fit in the category of being afflicted and debilitated by junk and clutter. In several places in his book, he gives examples of how to tell if you’re in need of “help.” Here’s some that I thought were on target.

“You know you’re a junkee when: Strangers say your house/office is “interesting.”

“You call an accumulation a collection.”

“Throwing out an empty jar takes an enormous effort of will.”

“Only you know what the tangled masses of rusted iron in the shed once were.”

“You still have the aftershave lotion your kids gave you last Christmas. And the Christmas before that. And the one before that. And you’ve kept the wrapping paper. And the ribbon.”

Aslett also asks these types of questions:

“Do you live in fear that someone you respect may someday open one of your closets?”

“Have you ever finally replaced a broken part of something and then kept that broken part?”

“Do you have an unquenchable desire to paw through a moving neighbor’s garbage before the trash truck comes?”

I’m wondering if any of these characteristics describe people in Sanpete besides me. I don’t know that Sanpeters have a higher incidence of “junkitis” than the rest of the world – but I suspect that we might. I know how I live. And I’ve seen some of your homes and yards too.

I’m told that part of our problem (if you consider it a problem) is that we have more space here than people in the city have. There’s room to park old cars and lots of us have garages, sheds and barns that we conveniently use to stash our stuff.

Another reason for Sanpeters keeping things is that many people here have lived through hard times. The habit has been formed to not throw anything away. One never knows when that old pickle jar might come in handy. Those clothes from the ’70s and ’80s may come back in style and I just might lose the weight so that I’ll be able to wear them.

Aslett says, “nothing will change your life faster than when you throw away your junk. You will have more time, you have more space, you feel better, and you’re healthier.”

I’m thinking that maybe some of my fellow Sanpeters may want to join in with me on this project of de-cluttering. (Misery loves company) So look at your own situation. Are you a junkee? If so, let’s do this thing together.

I admit that with me it probably won’t happen super fast. But then again, if I have very many Saturdays like the one last weekend, I may become the “poster boy” for de-cluttering. (And then again…pigs might fly.) — Merrill

Newsletter