When an older parent passes, eventually the family must decide what to do with that parent’s “stuff” — not the big-ticket items that are specified in the will, but all the small things that someone accumulates over 80 or 90 years of life.
I had been warned by my friend Liz that these negotiations can be nasty, and she told me about a mutual friend who had actually slapped her sister after a violent disagreement over who got to keep their mother’s favorite music box, a tacky little chotzke which played the theme from “Dr. Zhivago” as tiny figurines ice skated.
I’d heard these stories, of course, but it never occurred to me that my siblings and I could be ensnared in such a rancorous debate. For one thing Mom, who passed almost two years ago, did not leave much behind. For another, my siblings and I get along amazingly well.
But then one day my older sister, who Mom lived with for her last seven years, asked my siblings and me over for dinner. She seemed a bit edgy and then as she served dessert to my middle sister, my younger brother and me we learned why.
She cleared her throat which she does before her most important pronouncements. “Mom’s been gone for a while now,” she began solemnly.
“God rest her soul,” we all intoned mournfully.
“And it’s time to discuss who will keep her dinnerware,” said my older sister. Immediately, 3 spines stiffened and 6 eyes narrowed because I suddenly remembered how much my parents loved to entertain. Over the years my mom accumulated service for 12 of bone china, fine crystal and silverware; she was always so proud of her beautiful table but, sighing, I realized that this was no time for sentimentality: I had to move quickly.
My siblings all had the same thought and we all spoke at once: “I don’t want it,” I said, just as my middle sister said to my older sister, “You can keep it,” and my brother said, “Well I certainly have no use for it.”
My older sister was equally adamant. “I have no room for it,” she said, “so one of you has to take it.”
“But you already have it,” I pointed out, and we all looked at her china cabinet where it was beautifully displayed. “Possession is nine tenths of the law,” said my middle sister.”
“And the fact that none of us want it is the other nine tenths,” said my brother.
“Besides,” I added hastily, “maybe one day you’ll want to have a dinner party.”
My older sister snorted. “The china has to be hand washed, the silver needs to be polished and the crystal breaks if you look at it. No way.” She looked at me. “You entertain a lot,” she said.
“Everything I use is disposable,” I said, “even the cookware and serving spoons.” My partner and I love to entertain but refuse to wash dishes. “You take it, “ I told my middle sister.
“I don’t have a dining room table,” she pointed out. “And I cut the power to my stove and cooktop.” This was true; she uses her oven to store non-vital paperwork and documents. “I’m not cooking for twelve anytime soon,” she continued. She looked at my brother. “I guess it’s yours,” she said.
He laughed out loud. “I live in a double-wide in Ocala,” he said. “On a dirt road. China and crystal would be kinda out of place.”
There was silence for a minute. We briefly debated selling everything on E-bay, but although none of us wanted it, we couldn’t bear to sell the stuff Mom loved so much. We looked at my older sister’s china cabinet again, then we all looked at her.
“Possession is nine tenths of the law,” I said softly, and my older sister, sighing, nodded in resignation.