Cleaning House

The phrase "cleaning house" has all sorts of interpretations depending on its usage. Cleaning house in its literal form can mean ridding rooms of dust and dirt, whereas "cleaning house" in its newer Recession Era usage can mean having an excuse to get rid of low-performers at the office. Neither interpretation sounds particularly appealing. But just for fun, let's go back to the more literal usage. There are thousands of us (millions, even?) seemingly invested in this idea of cleaning house. We buy brooms and mops, storage bins and closet organizers, and subscriptions to "Real Simple" magazine (http://www.realsimple.com/) where we find advice on simplifying even our application of make-up. (Really?) Why are we all so feverishly cleaning and decluttering? Why the bumper stickers proclaiming "simplify" next to the ones giving "peace" a chance stuck to the bumper of every old faded car on the road? Well, clearly to make room...for more stuff.

This stuff/clutter/cleaning house thing is all the rage. On the one end you have retailers selling stuff to help us organize our stuff (i.e.Target selling large plastic bins by the pallet the day after Christmas) and at the other end, you have people like the man who threw nothing away for a year: http://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=17778816 who seemed to want to make a statement about all the stuff, and yes, the need to simplify. To simplify has become the mantra of the middle class. We say it in breathless whispers to one another...I just want to simplify. I'm trying to simplify my life, my house, my wardrobe. It's tempting to simplify because who the hell wants to complicate? But it is complicated.

Before we start dumping stuff overboard it seems we need to look at our motivations for doing so. I think we need to acknowledge that this is a middle-class behavior esteemed highest by those with the opportunity to acquire the most. (And yes, I include myself in this group.) Although I'm risking generalities here, I doubt that the poor kids I taught in Salem, MA (yes, I said "poor" which is what they were) hold the same affinity for ditching material goods. In fact, many of those kids were fixated on that elusive "American Dream," white-picket fence and all. I wonder how many of those kids 10 years from now might subscribe to "Real Simple" magazine? I wonder how many of them might realize that the dream of stuff, much like the dream of simplification is still focused on the thing, but is not the thing itself?

Forgive me for not remembering where I read or heard the following, but it seems an apt way to end this post: Our children don't want more stuff. What they want is us.