Showing posts with label hoard. Show all posts
Showing posts with label hoard. Show all posts

Wednesday, February 26, 2014

Hoarders - cause - cure?

CAUSES
   I used to think that I'd inherited my parents' view that you must save everything from the times of the WWII when you could not buy new goods, only Utility furniture. My late father grew up in the Nineteen Thirties when you have little money. You would make do and literally mend, mend shoes, darn socks.
   Then I learned about birds and nests. Feathering your nest. Saving for a rainy day.
   A third psychological factor, on Myers Briggs personality type, the fourth pair of contrasting types, the perceiver (I call it procrastinator) versus the judger.
   On retiring, or losing a job, or divorcing, when your source of income disappears, some types tend to cling onto objects with the excuse that they have no money to replace. The other partner may take the opportunity to downsize, and cast off clutter.)
   Now I've learned of another explanation. A blow to the head (trauma from outside), or narrowing of arteries - food inside causing blockages - can slow the movement or water and oxygen to the brain so that people suffering from strokes and dementia find it hard to make decisions. So deciding to tidy, to sort, to get things in order, to throw away, to clean, to do anything, becomes a chore, a struggle.

CURES
  An American TV programme on hoarding is showing how a team in Philadelphia is throwing away a man's possessions, clutter, a health risk, too heavy for the building.
   What a pity to throw everything away. What about recycling! Surely the Antiques Road Show could be brought in. There should be a museum which rescues things by era, a bit like the statistics of economics, for each year or decade, one umbrella, one teapot.
  There must be, or should be, museums of umbrellas, museums of teapots and china, museums of radios and electrical equipment. The Smithsonian museum should have a branch in every state.
   Some items could be sold to help the owner. Others could be donated to charity, or recompense the local authority and taxpayer.
    A few items of sentimental value such as photos, passports, ID cards, wartime records, wedding photos, could be saved and cheaply framed or recorded on the internet on ancestry .co and find a grave.

Saturday, January 9, 2010

Minimalist and Hoarder - which are you? A Poem.

verse 879
Michael the Minimalist and Hazel hoarder
version 1
by Angela Lansbury

You’ve heard of Jack who ate no fat
Who had a wife who ate no lean
I’ve brought this story up to date
The throw away and hoarder scene.

Things went so well when first they kissed
Because one was an optimist
The other was a pessimist
But neither was a realist.

Though opposites at first attract
Once married it’s hard to turn back
At first it’s fun, the other’s strange
Until you try to rearrange.

You’ll recognize minimalist
Whose wife liked to collect and hoard
At first the clutter fascinates
But very soon the guy got bored.

His great skill was making order
He loved to throw old things away
And each day she bought more and more
And each day he threw things away.

One calendar hung on his wall
One notebook sat upon his desk
An office, not a home at all
I hardly dare to tell the rest.

She filled the wall with ancestors
Documents and family trees
He liked the future, she loved the past
And neither of them felt at ease.

She liked the bathroom carpeted
Cosy and pink, it deadens sound
He liked grey granite, nothing pink
Hard, solid, quick to sweep around.

Her bedroom gave her great pleasure
She filled it with her piled treasures
So full that you could not get in -
His room’s sole decor was the bin.

She said that if she had a choice
She’d ride in a grand, smart Rolls Royce
She kept old things to recycle
He went off cycling on a bicycle.

He liked to trek, he liked to camp
She said that it was cold and damp
He liked a small, one star motel
She liked a big five star hotel.

Through changing health and changing wealth
Changing jobs and changing weather
What puzzles them and puzzles me
Is why they’re both - still together.

If you know, tell me - I suspect
Her life’s main aim is to collect
But he can’t leave until the day
When he has thrown it all away.

He needs a woman who’s like him
Grim-faced and extremely thin
She doesn’t need a wedding ring
She doesn’t own a single thing.

She, the one who likes collections,
Needs others who are like herself
The millionaires who build spare rooms
And poor craftsmen to build her shelves.

-ends-
copyright Angela Lansbury Jan 2010
Written in fond memory of all the stuff in the wheelie bin.

Angela writes poems to order for weddings, speeches, or business.
For fun buy her poetry books on lulu.com and / or join her facebook friends - on fans of angela lansbury author.