Have you heard of döstädning commonly called Swedish death cleaning?  

    Keep only the things you need. Rid yourself of the rest. Living with less is an act of kindness for your family and loved ones left to deal with your lifetime of things after you’re gone.

    “The Gentle Art of Swedish Death: How to Free Yourself and Your Family from a Lifetime of Clutter," written by Margareta Magnusson is the premiere guidebook. Her book inspired a program on the practice starring Amy Pohler, which aired on Peacock. (I haven’t seen it.)

      Recently, a friend told me how freeing the Swedish death cleaning experience was for her. She wished she had emptied all those boxes of things instead of moving them over the decades.

       For me, it’s easier to donate or discard stuff that hasn’t lived with me that long. But honestly, the age of something doesn’t matter as much as my memories connected with the something. Sometimes, I’ll box up donations and I change my mind the next day.

        I’d describe my dilemma much like the Butterfly Effect. If I change one small thing (get rid of one small thing) what will the larger effect be? Mmh, it’s ironic that I’m worried about chaos theory when I want to unburden myself and others from clutter and chaos.

       Let me introduce you to a few of my favorite things:  

1)                My first Mac computer in its original box sits on the top shelf in the basement. This computer (vintage 1990s) with its small screen, and soft hum kept me company as a freelance writer.  

2)                 A Prince tennis racquet with purple synthetic strings has hours of court time lives in my coat closet, ready for a game. Unlike the computer, this racquet still rocks. Every time I hit the sweet spot it makes a bonging noise.  Not only is the racquet too loud, but it’s also too heavy for me.  

L            Last year, I broke down and bought a new racquet but couldn’t part with my Prince.   

  In the upstairs closet hangs a form-fitting light blue denim dress, which I wore to the Kansas City premier of “Bird” about Charlie “Bird” Parker. My dress is not your grandmother’s long, loose denim jumper. This dress transports me back to 1988 standing in the theater lobby with bunch of jazz-loving friends acting as giddy as if Bird, the sax legend himself would walk through the door and thank us for coming to see him. 

Sadly, Parker died at the age of 34 in 1955. The most unusual thing he left was a plastic saxophone that resides in the historic 18^th and Vine jazz district, last I heard. An instrument made of cheap-grade plastic could have easily been discarded. Historians are grateful this sax was saved.  

    In my life, the less saved may earn more gratitude!