On Horizons: The Junk View

 My brother has embarked on an operation that reaches most people sooner or later; he’s helping with the dismantling and sale of his late mother-in-law’s Boston house. They’ve allotted the clearance task a week. It can be done faster than this. I remember when he and I cleared out our mother’s apartment in one weekend. That was pretty drastic, too.

            My brother remarks that the biggest job will be clearing off the horizontal surfaces. “The horizontal surfaces are full of junk. Clutter all over. The junk on the horizontal surfaces is the stuff you want to look at all the time: photos, souvenirs, collections. It’s going to be painful because of the memories.” He points out that it won’t take long to clear out the closets: “Some things may be worth something and can be sold — we wouldn’t trust her sister, she’d just throw it all in the bin — but every cupboard, shelf and box is crammed to the top with junk; it’s going to take a week to get rid of it all.”

            I recall that in our mother’s apartment there were a lot of books, which were taken to the local library, and that brings me to my job at the Carmelite Library where my boss, Philip, collects libraries. Specifically, deceased estates may show forth magnificent volumes under threat from anxious lawyers and uninvolved heirs who threaten the tip to substantial and often valuable collections. (We don’t know how many of the dresses in the Boston closet may be designer items, a pity to destroy). But this, of course, leads to the problem of insufficient space to house all the library’s new treasures.

            I look around my house at my own books, pictures, photographs and dear possessions, and I feel sad at their eventual fate. Things on the horizon point to a future destination: the junk on the horizontal surfaces is the clutter of the memories, loves, desires, and joys of your life. These objects are part of the unique you that ceases to be in the world. One hopes for a gentle hand to have some consideration, but the horizon lies at a distance, a distance from all we have valued, as we move into the past: a different world.