The kids don't want your stuff
This four-poster bed and nightstands were my parents' when they got married in 1948. Eventually they were in my childhood bedroom, and moved with me when I left home. Then the set became my oldest daughter's growing up, and now it's in her apartment. She plans to paint it.
( Photo courtesy of Marni Jameson.)
Parents of grown children, please sit down. I have some harsh news for you.
Your kids don't want your stuff. Don't take it personally. It's not that they don't love you. They don't love your furniture.
Story by
Marni Jameson
Special to NOLA.com| The Times-Picayune
The china hutch, the collectible figurines, your antique map or thimble collection, the sideboard, all those family treasures may hold many precious moments for you, but for your kids, not so much.
Ouch. Yes, I know you think you're being generous. Yes, I know you paid good money for these things. Yes, I know kids can seem unappreciative. Yes, I know it was part of your family's history. And, yes, I know it still contains some useful life.
I also know that deep down, you believe your kids will change their minds.
That is pure fantasy.
This topic hits home, so to speak. That became clear last week when, at a book signing and author chat for my new book, "Downsizing the Family Home: What to Save, What to Let Go," the subject stirred up a fine fuss.
It began when one woman among the group huddled inside a small independent bookstore asked what I thought about this situation: She wants to give her Drexel bedroom set -- which she has had since she was 16 -- to her daughter. Only, her daughter doesn't want it and has made that abundantly clear.
"It's a wonderful bed, and I want her to have it. What should I do?" she asked.
"You don't give it to her," I said. "She doesn't want it."
Groans of recognition rippled across the room.
As boomers downsize, declutter and empty their nests, many are facing the painful fact that their millennial offspring don't want the king-sized carved headboard, the box of handmade Christmas ornaments, the 12 place-settings of china, the nostalgic memorabilia or the silver tea set.
Don't believe me? Walk through your local antique, consignment and thrift stores. They are overflowing with brown wood furniture, porcelain and china pieces, embroidered table linens, and marginal art.
One of my readers, Mickey Kavanaugh of Denver, is smack in the middle of this painful awakening. Kavanaugh's mother died in December two weeks' shy of turning 104. She had many beautiful antiques, as does Kavanaugh, who is 80.
Combined, their belongings fill two storage units, in addition to his fully (he sent me pictures) furnished house.
"I saw this coming," he told me over the phone when I called him. "I feel overwhelmed. Lordy, I have so far to go."
Predictably, his son, 48, wants almost none of the accumulated goods, beyond a roll-top desk and some military medals that were his great grandfather's.
"I'm leaning on what you experienced when you went through your parents' stuff," Kavanaugh told me. "That is helping my sagging morale. I don't want to burden him."
I know I am on touchy turf, but to save generations of strife, I offer the following advice for deciding what to pass on or let go.
- Ask, don't assume:
- Believe them:
- Your kids want to create their own lives:
- Accept that stuff has a lifespan:
- Times have changed:
- They are practical:
- Don't guilt them:
Syndicated columnist Marni Jameson is the author of two home and lifestyle books, and the newly released "Downsizing the Family Home - What to Save, What to Let Go" (Sterling Publishing 2016).