SPRING INTO ACTION


Spring is a time of fresh starts, new flowers, the blush of green in the trees and the shaking out the dust of winter and breathing in the freshness around us. It is also the time for Spring cleaning - attacking the garage, the storage shed, getting ready for outdoor fun. And sheding some of the stuff that has gathered during the dark days of winter. This is no easy task, as we all know. And these treasures of ours are only things with an emotional attachment to us. Those wonderful summer floaties you used and your kids used, that have leaks need to go. BUT, they remind us of family trips and fun from days gone, long gone. It's time. You can ask your adult children to come, retrieve your baseball cards, trains, dolls, comic books. I have been preaching this even before The Last Gift Box became my passion and motivation. And I now have an ally. My friend and Gifter sent me this article by Robbie Shell. Read on.

How will you accept your family's kind "no thanks, Mom" of your garden chair?


By Robbie Shell


(Wall Street Journal) --

Now in my sixth year of retirement, I am about to

embark on a whole new relationship -- grandmother to a baby girl.


Anticipating the addition to their family, my son and his wife recently moved

into a house near Washington, D.C., the biggest home my son has lived in since

being on his own.


The new baby (my first grandchild) and new house ignited one of my

long-awaited projects -- excavating crawl spaces and basement corners on a

hunt for possessions to pass on to the next two generations.


It's easy to predict how this played out. My son and his wife turned down many

more items than they accepted. Much of what I had hoped to "upsize" to them

stayed in my basement and attic.


What wasn't easy to predict, however, was how complicated this seemingly

simple transaction could be. It involved multiple perspectives, across

multiple generations. It showed how possessions, when held up to the light,

often lose the very qualities that prompted us to set them aside. And, in my

case, it offered a glimpse of a future that I've thought about -- and looked

forward to -- for years.


I started with a set of eight bird-themed china plates my mother had ordered

decades earlier for each of her four children. The plates, still in their

original boxes, were beautiful in a dated, old-world way. For my mother, these

plates were an investment whose value would increase over time.


But I looked at them and saw something different: the result of a direct mail

pitch for a plate-of-the-month club.


Revisiting them tucked away in the latest of a succession of attics, I

realized there was also a dream behind these plates. I think my mother

pictured me bringing them out for elegant dinner parties at a country house

similar to the one her own parents had entertained in. That never happened. I

chose my own lifestyle and china.