My clients and I walked up to a non-descript 1960’s rancher, like all the others in Lakewood. As we reached the door, we noticed it was open. A hand-scrawled sign read, ‘When Scoochie barks, reach down and say, “Hi Scootchie.” She will like you. She’s a nice dog.’
Sure enough, Scootchie barked, and we did as instructed. And, as promised, Scootchie liked us and welcomed us into the living room. We noticed that it was cluttered, filled with blue & white ceramics and pillows and whatnots. The blue & white theme permeated the dining room and kitchen and bedrooms. The place was awash in clutter, dated but happy clutter.
A tiny old woman called out from the bedroom hall, “Just a moment, please.” And then she appeared, her wig set perfect, her make-up fresh, her dress, spotless. She smiled with warmth and gratitude as she welcomed us in.
We observed the essentials – original windows, original counters and cabinets, ancient appliances – and after passing through the kitchen we descended a narrow flight of stairs, into the dark basement. We found a switch and turned on an ancient fixture. The soft glow lit a thousand square feet of yesteryear – macramé and wood crafts and piles of Highlights magazines. At the far end of the basement, an ancient sofa faced a wood burning fireplace. Heaps of stuff – board games and baby dolls and photographs crowded the space.
We spoke in hushed tones, noting more essentials: dated wood paneling, dated bathroom fixtures. And then we returned upstairs and thanked the gracious owner.
I’ve probably seen 500 cluttered ranchers, homes filled to overflowing with the stuff of yesteryear, just like the one we saw today. I use to think it unfortunate that a family member or friend hadn’t de-cluttered for Grandma. I remember thinking, “She would have a happier, healthier life, if someone would redecorate this space.”
But today, I look at an object in my own home: an old custom frame that holds four formal portraits, one of each of my children. The portraits were taken the autumn we purchased this house in 1992. Twenty years ago … and now, I think of taking it down each time I dust the frame.
Our kids are grown and gone; and the little girl with the big red bow has long since blessed us with a grandchild. But as I dust it, I remember my excitement when I first picked up the prints from the photographer. I remember the choice I made when I selected the custom mat and frame. The years melt away as I remember the heart of a young mother, so happy & proud as I unwrapped the brown paper from the finished project, as I stared in awe at it’s singular beauty, as I looked with laughter as the kids played in our unfurnished rooms, as I hammered the nail in that particular place.
There’s life in old stuff. Smiles and laughter and warmth in old stuff.
I hope my kids never redecorate my space.
