An article landed in my inbox this week.  A man was reminiscing about an old lamp  that sat in the living room of his childhood home.  He held a finial, the decorative top piece that keeps the shade in place, in his hand. A smile bloomed on my face, immediately understanding how he felt.  I’ve stood in antique shops and thrift stores cradling an object in my hand, lost in a cherished memory.

I enjoy my treasures.  As I walk thru my front door I am greeted by an abundance of artifacts.  Artifacts from my husband’s childhood in Yugoslavia rest companionably near my grandfather’s carpenter square.  A picture painted by  Yugoslavian artist, Jovan Obican hangs adjacent to a hand drawn painting of a rooster my sister created for me.  An antique hand held mixer rests on the kitchen window sill.

These things and many others fill my home with memories.  They make my house a home and ground me in the roots of my heredity.

And then……

Another article popped up in my inbox today.  It proclaimed our houses are filled with things that should be immediately thrown out.  The article touted the danger of  the germs swimming around us. Immediately I envisioned microorganisms crawling through my cabinets, over my floors and on all my possessions.  The article mentioned treasured mementos and things you keep out of guilt.  Their advice?  Toss them!  And extra buttons?  Get rid of them.  You will never use them anyway.

Feeling guilty for enjoying my treasures and more than a little grossed out, I thought about divesting myself of everything except basic essentials.  It really would make it much easier to clean and dust.  And that button box does have tons of one of a kind antique buttons I will never use.    

But I would also give up the comfort of snuggling into my antique wingback chair,    my grandmother’s handmade quilt across my lap, reading a book discovered in my last thrift store perusal.  No thank you.   I think I’m okay with things just as they are germs, dust and all.