Jackie Wells-Fauth
Hard as it is for me to believe, someday I will not be here anymore. I will be sitting on a cloud somewhere enjoying all of the pleasures of heaven, God willing (literally). And when I am gone, I would love to pass on all of my wonderful earthly belongings to my children. Isn’t that a lovely sentiment?
To my astonishment, however, my lovely daughters have been a trifle reluctant to lay future claim to some of my most cherished treasures. I simply cannot understand this. Why don’t my children want my bag full of broken crayons and unsharpened colored pencils? It was they and their children who got them into this state. But still, they turn their noses up.
I was puzzling about this when I came across an article on (you guessed it) the internet. The article gave me pause because it was entitled: “Things your children will not want after you are gone.” That seemed a trifle harsh, but I was sure that MY valuables would not be listed. Imagine my dismay when the list hit on a great many of my possessions; the things I am saving specifically for my progeny!
Things they do not want (according to the article) are listed below with my response. (Oh, you knew there would be a response!)
Boxes of old greeting cards – I happen to have a wooden box full of partial sets of Christmas and Halloween cards. There are also some random sympathy cards. Now, my children should fight over these—some of them even still have envelopes!
Every piece of their school artwork – If I hung something on my refrigerator for months featuring me with a few strands of frizzy hair and a demented smile on my face, then the child who perpetrated it can darn well inherit it!
Furniture that isn’t their style – Okay, I’m going to be the first to admit that my furniture is not stylish and it’s pretty worn as well. But the wearing on the “non-stylish” furniture was done by guess who? Not to mention the living room window shade which has fizzed-up Pepsi sprayed all down it from some long-forgotten fight that no one will admit to now. The furniture goes to the children and to heck with their style!
Unsorted, unorganized boxes of family photos – It just so happens that every single picture I possess was identified and dated…before it was thrown-unsorted and unorganized-into a box. Have fun, girls, those photos are yours, and just to provide incentive, I saved every single embarrassing picture you ever posed for—and stuck them somewhere in the middle!
Their old baby clothes – You must be kidding: the ones that weren’t too stained with baby food and formula went directly into the rummage sale as soon as they were outgrown! I’m no fool!
My reusable bag collection – Okay now; saying that my children wouldn’t want my reusable bag collection, that I and the grocery store and yes, even Walmart, have worked for years to accumulate for them, is just plain hurtful. Of course they will want that bag collection—stuffed conveniently in another reusable bag.
Travel souvenirs and mementos – That’s hitting below the belt. I have spent years traveling just so I could collect things like that little bottle of Bath salts from—where else—Bath! As for the magnets on my refrigerator; every one of them is a special lasting memory of a special visit—all five hundred and ten of them. Of course my children will keep them.
Clothes I stopped wearing ten years ago – Okay, they may have something here. My children frequently look at the outfit I have chosen for an outing with them and remark, “Mom, is that really what you’re wearing?” I figure that they will have a weenie roast using my clothes for the fire before they even have the funeral!
But as for the rest of these things, I just can’t see why anyone thinks my children would not want them. They will forever cherish the mangled old Christmas decorations on my shelves and the family silver—consisting of cheap stainless steel in four different designs. There is no way they would ever get rid of the outdated encyclopedias and those old jars full of ten years of collected spiders and dust in the basement.
Why, I know they are completely outraged by the very idea of parting with my things. I bet they have already thought about what garbage truck…I mean moving van…they will use to bring my things to their homes in the future. Did you hear that? I think I can hear my daughters laughing!
