The Closet Conundrum

I was deciding where to store my new Christmas tree. Considering the fact that what used to be childhood closets for my children have become vessels for outdated junk, I decided to clear some space in my boys’ closet so my newly beloved tree would have a safe resting space. It’s been many years since my two sons shared a bedroom with bunk beds, Cincinnati Reds themed bed sheets, and coordinating red carpeting. The bunk beds have since been donated to my son who now has 4 sons of his own, and the red carpeting was retired long ago for much more sensible and drab neutral color.

Despite the facelift of this storied bedroom outside the closet walls, the inside of the closet is a 30-year throwback. The shelves are filled with binders of baseball cards, high school yearbooks and remnants of accomplishments; soccer trophies belonging to one son and Science Olympiad medals earned by the other. Two brothers as different as can be are still reflected in the contents of this closet. The nostalgic remembrances were checked by the fact that I needed to make room. Christmas cheer in an oversized box needed a new home. 

I began to take inventory. Now, mind you, I have one son whose unattached. Soccer medals? Nope. Signed yearbooks? Totally over them. That son lives in the present and doesn’t hold on to things. My other son, conversely, is a bit more sentimental. I mean, his college freshman calculus notebooks and test review from his first semester Astronomy exam are still tucked neatly next to a beginner chess set he received as a Christmas gift around the age of 10. As the father of two young children, I’m certain (or am I?) he’s no longer attached to such remnants of a former, albeit very curious life.

As I moved the boxes of old stuff, I found myself engulfed in an existential conundrum. How long do I need to hold on to my grown, adult children’s stuff? I mean, I appreciate my son’s connection to the academic bits and pieces of his college educational journey, but do we really need to save an historical atlas of Ancient Rome, Vol.2?  As I pushed the big Christmas tree box perfectly into the newly vacated closet space, I made a years-in-the making decision. These boxes of antiquated memorabilia were not going back, especially when my two sons are in full-swing of cluttering their own closets in their own homes with their own family stuff.

I wish this particular closet was my only purge challenge. Truth be told, many other closets in my house need the same existential challenge embrace. In the next bedroom over there’s a cedar chest filled with scrap books that chronicle a very NSYNC-crazy teen-aged daughter that that loved to crop photos and adhere them onto fancy paper. I actually remember doing such things with her.

I realized I need to create a productive method to deal with the clutter of my life. And truth be told, my kids are no help. The last time I sat my boys down to take inventory of their childhood closet, it didn’t go so well. You can imagine which son lost interest and which son just rearranged the old piles.

For the sake of utter transparency, and just in case I might have a couple of kids who end up reading this, I’m going to say it out loud. 2025 will be the year of making space, one closet at time. Does this sound like a threat? Maybe. Or maybe the box with the historical atlas of Ancient Rome, Vol. 2 will be sent to a new home. I just happen to know the shipping address by heart.