Patriot Realm

I am a bit of a hoarder. I like to keep things in case " they come in handy. " Old cables, bits and important bobs. I have long forgotten what the bits were for and the bobs are much the same.... but, well, you just never know, do you? 

My Dad was great at keeping things for that one time when he would be looking for a special tool and he could wander out to his garage and find it in a screw top jar or a bucket or box labelled "odds and ends. " Or " Bits and bobs. "  Or "nuts and bolts. "

You know the drill.  But there comes a time in every household when the clutter becomes too much. The drawers won’t shut, the cupboard doors protest with a creak, and somewhere in the garage, an avalanche of forgotten treasures waits for the perfect moment to attack.

We all have that one drawer - call it the ‘junk drawer,’ the ‘bits and bobs drawer,’ or, as I prefer, the ‘museum of things I might need someday.’ 

Thanks Paddy, for the inspiration for today's article. 

It holds everything from batteries of questionable life expectancy to rubber bands that have fossilised into an unbreakable lump. There’s always a spare key whose lock remains a mystery and a pile of takeaway menus, even though we order from the same place every time.

Then there’s the grander clutter ....the boxes of ‘useful’ things in the garage, the wardrobe full of clothes waiting for us to magically become the size we were in 1997, and the endless supply of empty jars we’ll definitely use for something... someday.

But why do we do it? Why do we hold onto these things ‘just in case’? Well, blame it on human nature. We’re wired for survival, and in a world where our ancestors never knew when the next woolly mammoth might wander by, saving things made sense. But unless you’re living in a cave and fashioning tools from old mobile phones, it’s probably time to let some of it go.

Mum, Redhead, was not and never has been a fan of these treasure boxes of " goodies. " In fact, she is a great advocate of the " in doubt, throw it out " school. Dad and I, on the other hand, were very much members of the opposite school. 

But why do we hoard? Keep things " just in case?" 

I wonder if it is because we were born in an era that was post-war and where everything was worth something? 

My late Dad was a child of the Depression. He knew hardship. Mum was a teenager in WW II. She lived through the polio epidemic. Her life was impacted by school closures and quarantines in New Zealand all those decades ago. 

I did not, being one of the so-called Boomer generation. But I grew up with two parents who had been there and done that. Waste was not in our family vocabulary. 

Perhaps because Mum grew up on a farm in rural New Zealand, she did not suffer the same deprivation my Dad did in his Manx home. 

I don't know and will never know what made my parents who they are. But I do know that I grew up in an era of plenty. 

An era of fun. And laughter. Gratitude and joy. 

I taught my daughters the value of a dollar - passed down by my parents. 

Whether they do the same with their children and grandchildren remains to be seen. Somehow, I doubt it because they had it good as kids. 

Passing knowledge from one generation to another is not the sole right of aboriginal cultures, is it? We whities have that same right and responsibility. 

Some years ago, I had a big clean out.  An old " Office in a Cupboard. " 

PP sent me an email suggesting that I might find a stash of cash buried deep within the vaults of my old cupboard. 

Alas, I only found two feisty cockroaches and a rather old and fossilised piece of something unidentifiable. 

I might have to send it off to the Bruce Pascoe Institute for Sacred Sites. 

On reflection, I had better not. I don't want my office shut down for archeological digs, smoking ceremonies and protest marches. 

Next time I have a clean out, my Dad will be yelling from above saying  " Shaydee!  Are you sure you won't need that? " 

And Mum, on the phone, telling me to chuck MORE OUT!

Well, what can I say? 

The cockies were gonski and the petrified piece of who knows what was despatched to the great sacred burial ground known as the rubbish bin. 

Don't tell anyone. These days, killing a cockroach could be a crime. Meanwhile, Koalas and Brumbies? Peachy Dandy. 

It makes me wonder about using a professional.... Trump seems to be doing a great job in America, doesn't he?  What a shame he cannot come here and do the same in Canberra. Letting go of the things that no longer serve you is quite cathartic. 

In the meantime, someone PLEASE want to help me find a cable I am missing?

Oh, wait, that was tossed out in the last cleanout. Bugger. .