What to Save?

I've made several decisions over the past few weeks about stuff to keep and stuff to let go. I told FFP yesterday that I wanted to keep my Ultimate Talking Buzz Lightyear Room Guard.

"I think he'll look good in the condo," I said.

"OK. Sure." He said. Not sounding really sure.

He gave Buzz to me (one Christmas, I think) and that's part of my sentimentality, probably.

I packed Buzz in his original box. He's ready to move. I'm pretty sure he won't be one of the objects that we use to decorate the house to interest buyers.

I also decided to keep an old cardboard cracker box covered with magazine cutouts and painted with some sort of decoupage varnish. I made it over thirty years ago. It's old enough to evoke a lot of things with me. I think, when I move, I'll keep letters in it or something.

The other day I almost threw away several notebooks in which my parents had meticulously collected columns clipped from The Dallas Morning News. The columns, by the late Frank X. Tolbert, recounted history and lore of Texas as he traveled around the state. Then I thought why not give them to my dad. I figured he'd enjoy reading them again after all this time. Indeed, he's been having a ball reading them and he's loaned out two of the three notebooks to friends who are enjoying them, too. It's amazing, that. In a day and age when dedicated book store owners are burning books, that people would read aging clippings. I think that some of this material was collected in a book that is out of print. Ah, yes, here it is at Powell's City of Books in Portland.

I was fascinated by an article in the June 11/18 issue of The New Yorker about the Harry Ransom Center and all the important archives they preserve. I'm not really much of a preservationist myself. I toy with the idea of saving things for posterity and then somewhat happily toss them. I think I'll leave preservation to others. The space for it and the dedication to saving just aren't in my nature. I'm keeping Buzz, though. For now.