I'm sitting at my desk, staring at the piles and files of tasks to complete. I'm feeling tired because I haven't been sleeping well. Working alone today, I feel a bit dreary.
I work in a church office, and I love it. I love to see the members come and go throughout their day as they attend to their tasks. Over the last several days, two women have been cleaning out the kitchen of unused items—dishes and other objects that have been there for over 60 years. They got rid of most of the items: some were given to other businesses in town, some were thrown away, and some were simply given away.
I'm all about clearing the clutter, so I thought what they were doing was great. As the Pastor said, "clearing space in the church opens space up for new beginnings," or something to that effect. She's great with words, while I'm not so eloquent. She’s also a Gen Xer, and we are usually on the same page. I spent the time watching these ladies come and go, feeling extremely thankful for their work.
Now they’re finished. I put a notice in the bulletins informing members when they could come and take items that would otherwise be thrown away. The two women made it clear that nothing could be returned, and I wasn’t really sure why they had that concern. But after Bea came in today in tears, I understood a bit better.
Bea is a 93-year-old woman whom I admire greatly. She is very smart, dresses well, and gets around like nobody's business. When she looked at the Sunday bulletin, she stood around, clearly deep in thought. “I have to get something off my chest,” she said. I told her I was always happy to listen. She was very upset about the clearing of the kitchen space. Most things, she said, didn’t bother her. What upset her most was that they got rid of all the plates—since they now use paper plates. She kept insisting that the plates go with the cups; you can't get rid of the plates. She explained that those plates had been serving families in this church for over 60 years. We used to wash them by hand, and even though we now have a dishwasher, they still got rid of the plates. They should have stayed with the cups—they go together. One day, we may not be able to afford paper plates, and they are wasteful. The plates should have stayed. I don’t care about the rest—they should have just kept the plates.
This situation highlights the generational differences among us—three generations, really. Bea's generation, known as the Silent Generation, grew up in a time when things were cherished and made to last a lifetime. The women cleaning out the kitchen are Baby Boomers, while the Pastor and I are Gen Xers. Boomers have shifted from valuing items as status symbols to embracing a minimalist lifestyle, one that provides more freedom from "things" (as discussed in Why Boomers are Seeking Minimalism – The Minimalist Boomer). Meanwhile, Generation X, having grown up during economic uncertainty and rapid technological change, often prioritizes convenience, adaptability, minimalist designs, and experiences over the accumulation of material possessions (see Understanding Different Generations: Key Traits – Culture Partners). This is why the clearing of the kitchen doesn’t seem like such a big deal to the Pastor and me.
My heart really went out to Bea, and I hope that spending time with me helped her feel a bit better. I told her I always have time to talk with her. Those plates that belong with the cups represented something very important to her because she comes from a generation in which material things were cherished. I believe we would all be better off if we cherished and owned items that last a lifetime.
Just look at all the garbage our world produces today. Televisions used to last a lifetime, and someone was always available to fix them. Cell phones, however, are designed—by some companies—to last only about two years. The amount of clothing, trinkets, home decorations, and other items purchased today is staggering. Most of these items end up in landfills in our country or are shipped to other countries, where they contribute to environmental waste. We live in a consumer-driven world—a world so different from the values of the Silent Generation. My dream is that we stop buying so much junk and start cherishing items that can last a lifetime—or at least a long time—just like Bea's plates
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