Letting Go

For those who have been wondering what was happening with my apartment, let me just say, two years after moving in, the housewarming is still in the offing. And while I optimistically bought a Christmas tree at Kmart, it never got put up. Still, there is always Christmas in July.

However, progress is being made. I surrendered and bought a ready-made kitchen cabinet and a bookcase. Surrendered because no woodworker could match the bid of the now departed contractor (I must remember to call missing persons), and no one wanted to do such a small job. Plus, I'd found a kitchen island on line that was the perfect size and a bookcase - also the perfect size - from Gothic Cabinet Craft for a quarter of what it was asking for a custom-built one.

Now that I had the bookcase, I no longer had an excuse for the still boxed books. I could now go through them one more time to determine what really had to go - less than I feared.

I also went on a spending spree that prompted Discover to call to make sure no one had stolen my card. Those three Crate & Barrel charges on the same day must have seemed suspicious.

One purchase was a dining table that I bought after having missed getting one by mid-century designer Tommi Parzinger at auction. The bidding started over the high estimate and at more than I had budgeted.

But now that I had the dining table of my re-thought dreams, I had to get rid of the table that I've had since grad school and had gotten in exchange for a typewriter. It had been successively serviceable, unloved for its lack of grace, loved for its oddness, and finally just not quite right for the apartment. But since it has a pedigree - it's a Taylor Take-Down table that breaks down into a 50" diameter round tabletop, possibly maple, and three oak pieces that lock together to form a trestle base - I thought it was unusual enough to garner interest on eBay. However, taking the photos proved too much for me, and I also reckoned that if I gave it to a charity, the tax deduction would be worth as much as it would fetch on line.

So I called Salvation Army, told them what I had - a lamp with a cast base of a scene of mama bear peeking around a tree at her cub (perfect for the lodge I don't have); a coffee table; and a table - an appointment was set up but cancelled because of the transit strike. It was rescheduled for Saturday, which just happened to be Christmas Eve. Again, no show. I wondered if the Salvation Army had recruited an atheist in the hopes of converting him since December 24 didn't seem to have any special meaning for him.

Another call to the Salvation Army got me a January 4 date. Again, I detailed what was to be donated, but described the Taylor Take-Down Table as a dining table. The scheduler asked if it had chairs. It doesn't. No chairs, no pick up.

After some back and forth, she said she would leave it up to the driver. I am crossing my fingers that the four separate pieces won't scream dining table and that it will be on its way to a new home in the new year.

I've had problems in the past donating items to charities in New York. St. Vincent de Paul won't take painted furniture - sorry Habersham. And a china closet was refused because it had a scratch. The truth was the driver just didn't want to take it since the elevator was out of order and I lived on the third floor.

So letting go of things is hard. First, I have to sever any emotional ties to the items (the bears are cute), and then get over the guilt of replacing something that is perfectly usable just because I want something else.

But then I had this epiphany - I was the nightmare consumer. This industry - and every other one producing consumer goods - depends on consumers replacing things. And not just because they need to, but rather because they want to. That's how styling, i.e., fashion, helped get the country out of the Great Depression.

The home textiles business thrives on the consumer replacing towels because she wants another color, or to try a bamboo one. She needs to think that a new pattern would be a pick-me-up for the bedroom even though those high-thread-count Egyptian-cotton sheets are in great shape. And it would be nice to have a holiday tablecloth without snowmen when she entertains.

Letting go can be a challenge - for me and the industry.