Does It Stay Or Does It Go?

I’m worried. Our impending move has Mary in a throw-away frame of mind and I’m hoping that I don’t get tossed with the rest of the junk. It would be unintentional, I’m sure, but anything unnecessary had better stay out of her way in the days ahead. I’m a keeper (not the noun) and I admit it. I’ve tried to analyze my great reluctance to throw anything away and have concluded it’s inherited (not from Dad). It doesn’t take a lot to irritate my nostalgia, and all my stuff is connected to the past. The unanswerable question is whether the memorabilia recalls the good times, or if it is kept as some sort of alchemy to transform the not-so-good. I’ll give an example. Stuffed inside my old Boy Scout backpack (there’s memory #1) is a lariat that I somehow inherited from Grandpa Hanna (memories to the infinite power). I have never used it, nor do I anticipate I ever will. But on the rare occasions that I run across it my mind is filled with times spent with Grandpa and the Boy Scouts (never at the same time). I know that Mary’s right and that we will have to either arrange for a convoy to transport all the stuff to Colorado, or get rid of it before we move. For everything there is a time to keep and a time to discard. If you happen by our garage and hear some soulful mourning coming from inside, you’ll know it’s just me saying goodbye to my old life and hello to the new.