Placing Value On Your "Things"

We've anxiously been watching coverage of the Southern California fires (and the residual cloud of smoke hovering over the city) that have devastated and displaced so many people and homes. During an interview last night, a poor man who had lost his home and his possessions shared "I'll have to learn to love things again."

He went on to describe some of his losses, including a tribute photo album he had made with imagery and photos of his late father. This incredibly sad and touching moment had us thinking about our own "things" and the value we place on them - our couch, our art collection, our grandmother's silverware.

Whatever these items are, it's the "value" that people place that brings them to life. It's an emotion about an object versus just an object. We've heard the idea that "things are just things" and while that is true to some degree, you place importance on it, then it's important to you. Think about it as the emotional description behind the furniture, decor or accents.

What "things" in your home do you place your value? Are they family heirlooms, like in Laure's home pictured above, or a combination of things?

Check out more family inspired posts from Apartment Therapy:

(Image: Flickr member Caesar Sebastian licensed for use under Creative Commons)

Comments (20)

seems kind of weird, the question "which 'things' do you love in your life and why/ how much?" Let's gush over the things we surround ourselves with...

kind of missing the point aren't we?

The quote I saw from this guy was different: "I'm going to have to figure out a new philosophy: how to live without loving stuff," he said.

I think "lab director" might be missing the point here, regardless whether AP misappropriated the guy's sentiments. It's not about loving "stuff" but about valuing items that have an important emotional resonance, like a photo album. My husband has a fireproof lock box filled with items owned by his now-deceased parents, items that don't have any monetary value but that are very important to him.

Peppercook has right the quote.

Julia B, I totally agree with you, and I am now thinking about about a fire proof box for my own important items. I was lucky enough to inherit a bed and a few other items of furniture from my late grandmother, which I would hate to lose, but putting some photos and some books from other deceased members of my family would save a lot of potential heartache. Thank you for giving me the idea, it was the motivation I needed.

I love some stuff in my house: the antique tiger oak card file, the cool antique school lockers I just bought at the flea market, the vintage paintings I've collected.

But... they're just stuff. The "love" I have for them is more a kind of fondness and aesthetic appreciation. I've sold things before, and there's no lasting grief.

I'd hate to lose family photos, though thankfully they're all digitized and spread among the siblings now, so I could replace them.

To lose your things to tragedy like a fire, though, is to lose more than the objects, I think. It's the loss of safety and security that having a specific place, full or our things, gives us. I imagine it's a lifetime's work to try to rebuild that sense of security.

I also agree with Peppercook - the actual quote has a much different meaning to that stated by AP.

When lives are at stake, perhaps it is almost insulting to be discussing the importance of 'things' (even if it has a spin on it relating to 'people')?

Agree with LabDirector - 'missing the point...'

I very much enjoy being surrounded by fabulous things, and there are quite a few items that i've worked so hard to accumulate which I would be VERY disappointed to lose...

(I'm not going to list them all - that's not the point)

...but there are very few items in my possession that couldn't be replaced with something similar or better - That's what insurance is for.

"You are what you love. Not what loves you."
-Charlie Kaufman

AP's consumption-addled writers often miss the point with these sorts of thoughts. One lesson from these fires is that consumer cruft is ephemeral and we could all do with less of it.

This is similar to a prior post (last year?) about what would you take with you in a disaster. Some commenters who had been through disasters noted that you have mere seconds to make decisions when you have to leave. Think about it now.

As for my items - my dogs are my most important and valuable "things."

As for photos, yes, to many they are highly valued. That said, there's no excuse to lose them with the technology we have today. Mary B C has the right idea. Digitize the family photos you can't live without. Share them with relatives who live elsewhere or at least place a back up in a fire and water proof box.

I have heard several conversations where people try to decide what they would save in a fire.

We had a fire two years ago because our neighbors downstairs set a closet on fire. The only things we grabbed were the cat carriers and our coats.

I think it's a little weird to have a "things are just things" and "what thing has the most value" in the same blog post. Even though I have things that I value, insurance can't get me a new husband or kitties.

My house burned down when I was 13 years old. Everyone (including the pets) got out fine, but we lost everything. Of course the most important thing is that no one is hurt. And of course it's just stuff. That sort of sentiment is so rote there's almost no point in expressing it--at least not when you're a disinterested bystander. When you're going through those kinds of events, you should remind yourself of how much you have to be grateful for.

My point is that despite the fact that everyone can agree that stuff isn't the priority in these situations, the question posed by AT isn't without value. I still (and I'm 30 years old now) grieve for certain things that my family lost. Photos. Art. Beloved toys. My parents' wedding china. The ridiculous collection of children's books that I would've loved to pass on to my own children.

Like it or not, we as humans DO anchor emotions to material objects. We secure our hopes and desires to them as well. Losing stuff isn't the end of the world, for sure. But it does take away some sort of innocence. And it takes away the archaelogical evidence of your past. I don't know if that makes sense. But, I think at least for my situation, the fire left me feeling sort of root-less. I only have a nuclear family--no extended family to speak of--so losing everything we owned cut me and my sister off even more from our past, from our parents' families, and even to some degree, from our parents. As an adult now, I almost hate new objects purchased from stores, because I see that same root-less-ness in them. And the things I value most are the random objects that found their own way into my home--hand me downs, gifts, and objects with stories attached. But there are very few things I would really mourn--probably because I don't have anything connected to my family or to my childhood. So, I'm guessing that the more your past is exhibited in your home and belongings, the greater the emotional impact of losing that stuff would be. Sorry for such a long post.

I would have a lot of trouble letting go of my things. I don't consume or collect a lot, so most of my items are hand built or modified and normally have some sentimental value to them. The bookshelves in my bedroom are not something I thrifted, they were a gift from my father for my first apartment. I designed them and we built them together. They are practical, but like most things a father and son build together they have some history. Most of my art is also either gifted from friends or some of my own work. In a rush I would just grab my laptop, my boots, and my bike and be on my merry way, but my bedroom is a collection of sentiments. I don't do photographs, I prefer objects.

EveryTHING can be replaceable ..except my photos
so ...i just save them on the internet on various sites
this way i'll always be able to print them out.

My bedroom furniture, headboard, mirror, dresser and bedside tables were made by my grandfather shortly after he married my grandmother in the 1930's. They are beautiful and simple pieces of furniture that mean a lot to me.

I have things that can't be replaced. However I never love something so much that I can't lose it. It is just things and I place value on human life as the most important of anything. In the end that is all we have.
Bella

We recently had a fire-situation in the building I live in, so I know the answer to that question: I took my cat. Nothing else mattered at that time. I just wanted her to be safe so I grabbed her and put her in her cage so that she couldn't run away. Then I clung to the box like crazy and waited for instruction on the balcony, putting the bow on the floor so she could breeze.

Since the firemen asked us to stay put while they dealt with the fire but to prepare for an evac (which didn't took place in the end), I took a bag and filled it with my 27-years old teddy bear, photos my husband loves (he was absent that week) and has no digital copy of (since remedied), and jewellery I inherited from a beloved great-grand-mother.

So I guess, I'd save the living beings first, then souvenirs. Couldn't care less about ID papers or computers !

Thank you BlackFrancine, people who say things can be replaced have obviously never lived through a situation like this one and do not have a right to comment! It hurts to lose "things" in situations that cannot be controlled and then having people say "well atleast you have insurence" is a slap in the face, insurence will not replace old wedding albums or items passed down through many generations.

I think BlackFrancine's post made a very important point. We can say "oh, this thing or that thing isn't all that important", but to lose everything, all the bits and pieces of your physical life, is a true trauma.

If you've never experienced it, you have no idea of how strangely you can find yourself grieving for things that have no real value, except that they defined your home for you.

My grandmother always said to me "Be a turtle, carry your home with you every where you go", but even after almost 30 years, she would speak sadly of her father's books left behind when she had to leave her homeland.