In Case of Fire

 There is a scene in a movie that the antagonist asks the protagonist "Your place is on fire, you have to leave immediately. What would you take?"  It always struck me because I think that's an important question to consider.  Not the easy stuff like the children or the pets.  

What would you be absolutely devastated to lose?

For me, I think it would be photographs.  Even though most are backed up online, there's something about having the originals.  Then I think maybe my books; not all of them but some of them.  Maybe some keepsakes; my childhood stuffy, our championship coats from racing, some knicknacks.

Now, because Kevin is wired for proactivity, he already has a plan if we were suddenly needing to evacuate.  Living where we do and wildfires becoming a season instead of an anomaly, we've thought about this.  

At first, it's going to make you squint but stay with me.  He would hook the big truck up to our car trailer and load the racecar.  This would take 15 minutes, under pressure, and would accomplish two things: three of our highest valued assets would be ready to go and then we can load stuff into the truck and trailer.  This also leaves my car to be loaded, of which would be happening while he was dealing with that.

And I have a plan: suitcase & some clothes, document safe, file cabinet contents, and all the electronics.  Between the document safe and our electronics, most anything that would be irreplaceable or needed in such a situation would be included. All of these, fairly easily accessible. It's a small house and I'm ridiculously organized with most things.  They will also fit easily into my car.

Then, if still time, photographs and keepsakes.  Dump out a big tote that stores decorations then arm sweep the cabinet where the albums live.  This is an example of how much I've thought about this, I've visualized it.  This remains undecided if that is a healthy or unhealthy thing.

In the past three years, I've closed - or in my bio family's case, helped with - two houses.  

With my in-laws, we each kept things that we wanted or could use.  We did our best to distribute amongst each other and extended family. Still, truckloads went to donation.

As I glanced through the house to see what I would be compelled to take in an emergency - and I had time - it would be items from their house.  The key rack, the pansy painting that Mom loved, the tiffany lamp from the Moody House, the mantle clock. Items that feel like home, to me.

I didn't bring much home from my parents house: two figurines that I heard my entire childhood that I could have when I was older - a schoolhouse penny bank and a Josef Angel figurine. They were high on a mid-century display area that my dad built.  I felt compelled to take a soup pot when we were looking through the kitchen; I don't know why.  I didn't take any of the antique dishes, even though many were designated for me.  (I don't have room, I didn't want them)  I brought home a bath mat because it was new and matched our bathroom; so more practical than sentimental.  A bunch of Christmas decorations, because I like vintage and because that's one of the few times from childhood  that feel happy.

We were almost done with the house and I was mentally getting ready to leave for the last time. I did one last scan to make sure everything had been addressed when it caught my eye.  A antique mission-style footstool behind the door in the bathroom.  It had been missed because it was behind the door.  I had an emotional reaction, most unlike me, and my niece reacted accordingly.  

This footstool was used to reach the sink to wash my hands, brush my teeth, get my hair brushed or cut.  It was the one thing out of the whole house that represented Me.   I've been gone from that house since 1988 and that was the only thing left that seemed to indicate that I lived there once. It's dirty and needs refinished but I haven't done that yet and I might not. It's under my big desk and I rest my feet on it daily.

My point being, yes I have one, is when it comes down to it: most stuff is replaceable. While sentimentally important, I would still be okay if they were lost; sad though for sure.  Also, with aging I think, "stuff" becomes less important.

Moreover, I've learned to think "Someone is going to have to deal with this when we're gone" and that has made an impact on what I've kept.

So, two things: have an emergency plan in place.  It doesn't have to be highlighted and laminated but a general discussion or thought process of what could happen in an emergency.  Secondly, think about what you would be devastated to lose and it's probably not what your first guess would be. Then include that in your plan.

Finally, have these discussions with your family.  My mother-in-law was so good at telling us what she wanted us to have or what to do that there was very little drama when it was time. My mom didn't have any kind of plan beyond labeling her antique dishes so we had to just figure it out.  

I have a notebook in the document safe listing every item in this house of value, including where it came from, approximate value and instructions for the kids about how to deal with all of it.  Mostly, if they don't want it: have an estate sale with "make an offer" and recycle or donate the rest.  

It literally says "Take any of it to the dump and I will haunt the rest of your days." And I mean it.