19I realize that I’ve been a little overenthusiastic of Marie Kondo, the Japanese woman who is changing the world one tiny fold at a time. She is the author of Spark Joy and The Life Changing Magic of Tidying Up, and she has become a phenomenon around the world.

In fact, she is speaking in NYC next week and I will be there. As you can imagine, it is very hard for me to leave my four young children for the weekend as I will be missing soccer games and gymnastics and birthday-gift buying and saying things like “How come the violin is on the garage floor?” and “Why aren’t you wearing underwear?” but I will do it.

For you.

Because I am a good person.

I’m also an American. And will be as long as Donald Trump isn’t elected. Should that happen, I will move the family somewhere warm and sunny and nobody will have to practice violin or wear underwear.

And Marni Jameson is an American, too; her syndicated column appears every Saturday in the Denver Post and I never miss it. I even read it before my horoscope. Yes, it’s that good.

Jameson’s recent column is about the earth shattering news that children do not want our old stuff. For real. I know it’s painful for many grownups out there to believe this. And I am guessing that when my children grow up and then turn up their nose at something I cherish that I, too, will feel a pang of hurt. But pain is part of motherhood. A big part, actually. Better to understand now that even though that behemoth of a coffee table is very high quaility and in great shape and was so expensive and might be an antique someday, our collective offspring still DO. NOT. WANT. IT.

My childhood home burned down a few years ago. It was shocking and sad and so much work for my mother I can’t even begin to explain. But you know that silver lining? Well, there is less stuff she has to feel guilty over because most of it is gone. Her home is stunning in part because every single item was chosen specifically by her for her, the woman she is now, after children and marriage.  Actually it was always stunning because she has impeccable taste, but PF (Post Fire) forced her to start over. She can no longer wrap up our old stuff in fancy paper and pretend it’s a present and then give it to us at Christmas, which is a pretty mean trick that kept happening BF (Before Fire). I didn’t love opening my high-school yearbooks at the age of 33. Nobody would.

I am sharing Jameson’s column with you here. Please read it. And then read it again. It fits in nicely with Kondo’s lessons about letting go of things that no longer bring joy. Letting go of things doesn’t take away the meaning or the memory; it just opens up some space in your heart and your home.

See you next time at The Neighbor’s House and look for an upcoming post on my visit with Marie Kondo!