Bill Cheng, whose late wife’s possessions have passed through three generations with ties to the United Empire Loyalists, admits he’s spent half a million dollars over 20 years paying for storage. He believed his wife had been hanging on to items of increasing value, and he had to be convinced by an antique expert that his wife’s figurines and other trinkets were essentially of value only to him.
Seniors, especially, come from a tradition of heirlooms, one often not compatible with the streamlined lifestyles of their children.
Nobody wants the stuff anymore.
Geeta Sondhi’s documentary, The Art of Downsizing, airing Sunday at 9:00 p.m. on CBC in Canada only, follows three seniors who, sometimes agonizingly, come to terms with the fact that they are drowning in possessions and mementos. They must learn to let go before they can move on.
The documentary looks at the challenges of what it means to pack up a lifetime of belongings when you’re grappling with a future that is destined to fall out of your control.
The three seniors take different routes to their less-encumbered lives – an online auction seller, an antique dealer, frank-talking family – but the end goal remains the same, the realization that “things” are not people, and that memories are internal and not strewn about the house.
In addition to on CBC, you’ll be able to watch the documentary on CBC Gem (only within Canada) or by downloading the CBC Gem on iTunes or the GooglePlay store. (I don’t know about international access to this program through iTunes or GooglePlay.)
It will also be available to watch on the CBC Docs YouTube channel — but only within Canada.
See viewing details here.
A trailer is available on Facebook, which should be watchable from almost anywhere in the world. It’s also available on CBC’s website.
Regarding: “things” are not people: While I don’t believe in keeping rooms full of family keepsakes, I do believe a small collection is valuable. They trigger memories and as we get further away from the time we last saw that person, the more we need things to trigger them.
My dad has been dead almost 31 years. Every time I pick up his hammer to use, I think of him and the many things we built together. Every time I talk about hitting the deer a few years ago in my ’86 truck, I explain that the front grill is from the ’82 my father owned, and I recall the many trips he and I took. When I drink out of my mom’s old tea pot, I think of the way she loved to cook and feed the family and every visitor.
Last summer, we had to go through the house I grew up in and dispose of things. It was difficult. I kept somethings — such as the large horse picture I grew up with — but it was a modest amount. These things were from my childhood, so mean a lot to me. They probably won’t mean a lot to my kids, so I will understand if they don’t keep them.