The Pack Rat Downsizes

How does a pack rat begin the uncluttering process? You accumulate books and magazines and articles, mementos and keepsakes, plaques and awards and framed things from a forty or fifty year ministry, and then one day, you begin to get rid of it all, piece by piece.

Fortunately, every time we move (change churches or offices or homes), we have to go through and throw out. So, it’s not like I’m starting from scratch. But still, you’d be surprised (depressed?) by the files and books and stuff I still cart around from one place to the next.

Even when you’re not trying, things just accumulate. For example, at this moment, atop the bookcase in this office are the following items, going left to right: a pewter bud vase (that’s empty); a ceramic angel a friend gave me a couple of Christmases ago; a “New Yorker” magazine coffee mug; a replica of a Toucan bird someone brought back from an overseas mission trip; a gavel received from when I was president of something or other; a small casket (?) with “McK” etched into it which plays “How Great Thou Art” (the signature on the bottom reads “Wilber”); a red clear whiskey bottle (empty!) with Harry Truman’s image in relief; a teak (i.e., wooden) beaver from a preaching trip to Canada a generation ago; a life-sized hand made of wood inside of which is the smaller image of a child from someone’s mission trip somewhere; several interesting rocks; a Louisiana Baptist Convention mug; a ceramic image of Jesus the Shepherd given to me forty years ago by a friend; a child behind a pulpit with a tiny dog standing nearby given by longtime friend Joyce Ponder; a bottle of brown water from Greenville, Mississippi, complete with a bug inside; another small angel; and finally, two metal (heavy!) University of Alabama bookends.

Still with me?

Now, lining the top of the office wall above that same bookcase are six framed items: a photo of Dr. Thomas Cox Teasdale’s tombstone in Friendship Cemetery in Columbus, MS, with photographer Sharon Sams Adams’ little son Boardman reaching up to the weeping angel; the original artwork from a Sunday “Gasoline Alley” comic strip given by artist Jim Scancarelli; the signatures of Billy and Ruth Graham above which each wrote their favorite scriptures; and three original daily comic strips, given by the artists: “Snuffy Smith,” given by Fred Lasswell; “Tiger,” given by Bud Blake; and “Frank and Ernest,” given by Bob Thaves.

And that’s just one wall!

Fortunately, we have regular meetings of our pastors around here, so little by little, I’ll lay out giveaways on tables and move the clutter from my office to theirs!


Years ago, I solved one little part of this problem by pulling out every plaque in my possession and sending them to the dumpster. Some were from the denomination, some from churches I had served, one or two from colleges, and some from various agencies I had done something for. (I wonder sometimes if pastors really put all those things on their walls. And if they do, what does it say about them? I knew the day would come when my children — bless them — would have to pull out every item left in Dad’s desk drawers and decide what to do with them. And assuming they will have their own clutter to deal with and do not need contributions, I did them a huge favor.)

Note to our associational administrative committee: When I retire at the end of April — no plaques, please!

The last time we moved our residence — that would be May, 1994 — I recall going through much of the same uncluttering process and telling a friend, “Everyone ought to move every four years, just to streamline his life!”

Around here, ship-owners arrange at certain intervals for their vessels to be dry-docked and hoisted aloft by cranes so the barnacles can be scraped off. Barnacles are crustaceans that attach themselves to the underwater portion of boats — don’t ask me why — and in time, as they build up, drag the ship back and down as it cuts through the waters. (Webster says some people are barnacles, too — those who “cling tenaciously.”)

Five years ago, as we moved from the pastor’s office at the First Baptist Church of Kenner to this associational office, I gave away a couple of thousand books, including a number of sets of commentaries. Now, on a smaller scale, thankfully, that process will have to be repeated. Pastors, get ready.

But which books to keep, that is the question. Some have been my companions for over forty years. Some I have referred to again and again and love deeply.

I’ll keep some commentaries on the various books of the Bible, of course. And I’ll be keeping every book on prayer which I’ve gathered (I must have a hundred), to assist with the book I’ll be writing after retirement. As for the books on fellowship and leadership also in the works, I’m still pulling together more books on those subjects. (Groan.)

Chet Griffin, retired USAF colonel and longtime buddy, called the other day while on his way to an estate sale in the Washington, D.C. area where he lives. I said, “What are you looking for at those things?” He said, “Nothing. Just whatever they have.” He laughed, “But these days, if I bring home something, I have to get rid of something.”

I know the feeling. That’s my life.

I’ve said nothing about the closets filled with books and magazines containing my writing and cartoon-work over the years. For a long time, I tried to save every magazine or paper that ran something of mine. I quit that when they began to overflow every file cabinet and closet. But, still….there are books I’ve illustrated for writers and magazines for which I did the covers and there are the boxes laden with originals, as well as the things I’ve written.

An original — not everyone understands this, so pardon me for stating the obvious — is the actual artwork produced by the artist or cartoonist. These days when I draw a cartoon for publication (mostly for the Baptist Press’ website www.bpnews.net), I hand it to Lynn, our administrative assistant, and she scans it into her computer and emails it to Laura in Nashville. A minute later, she returns the original, which has done its work and for which we no longer have any use. It goes into the credenza file to rest with hundreds just like it.

Those, we don’t throw away. We keep them. For some reason. (It seems the thing to do.)

I’ve suggested to son Marty that with the crazy economy and the resulting depletion of my retirement account with Guidestone, maybe I ought to offer these originals for sale. It’s a thought. Not having done that before, we have no idea what the market would be or whether there would even be a market for them.

Anyone wanna buy a toon?

“Forgetting those things that are behind, I press forward…,” Paul wrote in Philippians 3:13. Or, maybe Hebrews 12:1 fits better: “…let us lay aside every weight and the sin which so easily ensnares us, and let us run with endurance the race….”

Twenty years ago, Ruth Bell Graham was staring at the accumulation of a lifetime of things and wondering what to do with it. “You need to get a bulldozer to clean out your attic,” husband Bill said to her one day. “All that junk — just clean it out and burn it. You’ll never use it. And what will the family do with it after you’re gone?”

Sound familiar?

What she did was produce a book, aptly titled “Legacy of a Pack Rat,” in which she shared clippings and stories and memories with a grateful world. Here is one of her vignettes, which you’ll find most appropriate.

Back in 1959, the Billy Grahams and the Grady Wilsons were in Europe for meetings. When Billy and Grady traveled to Moscow for something, they left Ruth and Wilma in Paris. As soon as the men left the house, the women headed for the junk shops. They bought several lovely items such as a silver inkwell adorned with cupids, needlepoint, and a painting or two. On their way back to the hotel, they began to connive about how to convince their husbands that they had not spent much money and that they would be bringing these items home with them. (I read this and can’t quit thinking of Lucy and Ethel on the old “I Love Lucy” show!)

What they finally did was to unwrap their gifts and put them up in the hotel rooms, like so much decor. Then, when their husbands returned and they were packing for home, the women said things like, “Oh, I like this inkwell so much, I think I’ll just take it,” and dropped it into the suitcase.

Later, the women got to laughing about what they had done. They had been so crafty. Grady Wilson said, “What’s so funny?” And they told him.

Silence.

“What’s wrong?” Ruth said. “We spent practically nothing.”

Grady said, “Well, it’s just that when Wilma’s back was turned, I took the inkwell out and put it back on the desk.”

One less bit of clutter.

7 thoughts on “The Pack Rat Downsizes

  1. Uh, Joe I’ll help carry those heavy U of A bookends to the trash….Geaux Tigers!!! lol

    My dad, when realizing his Alzheimers had ended his preaching days, gave his library to other young pastors. With your continued writing endevours it would be very hard to know what to get rid of. God bless!

  2. Joe,

    YOU CAN SEND ME ANYTHING YOU WANT AND i WILL SHARE WITH SOME YOUNF PREACHER BOYS HERE.

  3. You make me feel both better and worse. At 73 I have at least as much weird junk as you but recoil at the idea of giving my books away!

    btw, have you considered binding some of your columns into a published collection; likewise the drawings?

  4. I’m with you buddy, clutter has nearly ended my marriage. I mean well and get started. But it takes so long I have more piled elsewhere before I can manage one spot.

    Lara

  5. I’m siting in my computer room, listening to KLRZ FM from Larose, LA (over the internet) and reading your blogs. This one brought to me a since of pity for my daughter. My wife and I have been married for over 44, lived in the same house for over 20 years, and collected “stuff” for decades. I still have cables for printers that haven’t been made for 25 years. I have a 30 year old 40 mg disk drive that I sold to a client for $18,000. It looks like a lawn mower with the wheels off. Anybody need an Atari 800 computer?

    My daughter, Nanci, gets it all. I ain’t touchin’ it.

  6. From one Pack Rat to another … you have my sympathy. I learned my lesson in 2002 when I walked into the house of my late uncle. I am convinced that he and my aunt who had died several years earlier had never thrown anything away. I found bank statements from the early 50’s along with other assorted “treasures”. I resolved to become less of a saver of stuff and am still fighting that battle.

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