Some historians argue that the 50-year rule is too limiting. They have lobbied to put more recent sites, like the Oklahoma Bombing Memorial, on the National Register of Historic Places, despite its lack of age. Others argue that we cannot dispassionately assess the value of buildings and structures until they are at least 100 years old. The latter support a theory known as the “Darwinism of Architecture”: by culling out the less important buildings over the years only the most valued and well-maintained structures make it into the ranks of protected properties listed on the National Register.
I think it’s a policy by which we, as a culture, would be well-served, as applied to our stuff.
As a nation, we hang on to everything. Maybe it’s due to our pioneer and rural roots. Early settlers had to store up for hard times. Farms were remote, and goods needed to be purchased in quantity in order to keep people alive over harsh winters. Maybe the Great Depression also created a shift in our buying habits: people who were forced into poverty and starvation felt the need to amass goods when times got better.
Regardless of the roots, we as a nation accumulate far more stuff than any other nation in the world. We are a culture of consumption, and our homes reflect this. They are three times larger than the world average, and growing. Yet our families are shrinking, as compared to the rest of the world.
So what is filling up these vast spaces we build? Stuff. Years and years of stuff that we’ve collected and can’t seem to part with. Wherever one travels throughout the U.S., there are boxes of baby toys, kept unused for decades. Grade school report cards waiting to be bequeathed. High school track trophies. Breast-shaped beer steins from long-past bachelor parties. Clothes that we loved once and outgrew. Unused snowmobiles; car parts for vehicles we no longer own; pieces of art we no longer relate to; five sets of dinnerware we never use. The list goes on, and now as a nation we’re witnessing the latest phase of expansion: acres and acres of farmland covered over with privately owned storage units.for our personal stuff!!!
This level of consumption is certainly affecting our planet: the more stuff we produce, the more waste we create, and the more pollution. The degree to which we are expanding our built environment to house this stuff is equally, if not more, problematic. Experts globally agree that our built environment, and especially our homes, have a greater impact on our environment than any other single factor. If we need 1800 square feet of space to live in, but are building another 3000 square feet to house unused books, worn out sports equipment and Grandma’s antiques that we keep only out of a sense of obligation, then we’re spending an awful lot of money and causing an awful lot of damage to our planet for…stuff.
Virge Temme
Do we really need to hang on to everything we acquire, for decades on end? Wouldn’t we be better off if we set aside one day every year.maybe the first day of spring.for a good old-fashioned cleaning.a grand purge, in which we pull out everything in our closets, our garages, and our storage units, and go through the items one-by-one? We would decide what is still important to us: what is loved or needed. Anything that doesn’t fall within those categories could be bequeathed, donated, sold, recycled, or otherwise eliminated.
Those of us who go through these regular purges find them to be therapeutic and enriching. Taking the time to touch and reflect on those items that have come into our lives gives us the opportunity to remember and celebrate (or mourn) past people and events. And allowing the stuff to flow back out of our lives as it came in gives us the freedom to move and change and become.new. The first time you do this, it could take weeks; but after three or four cycles, you will find you just stop accumulating unnecessary things.
Once the purge is complete, then pause and reflect before you buy more. We have only a short time on this planet, each of us. Do we want to use those few decades in the frantic acquisition of unnecessary stuff, thereby damaging the very place on which we live? Are we just piling up stuff out of habit? Are we so addicted to our stuff that it’s actually hindering our enjoyment of life? Are we working long hours simply to pay for the extra space to house our stuff? These are legitimate questions, and worth asking.
Before you buy a home. Before you remodel. Before you expand. Before you buy another item. Take the time to inventory and assess. Adhering to Darwin’s “survival of the fittest” in your stuff could open up whole new spaces in your home and your life. And Mother Earth would be grateful.