what we leave when we die

Photo shows a white box with the word VOTE in big black letters and a small American flag image with a hand inserting a white card into the slot on top.

Elon Musk, the Tesla billionaire who bought Twitter, recently raised a ruckus when he agreed with a Tweeter who said people without children should not be allowed to vote. “Non-parents have little stake in the future,” he said.

Here’s the link to one of several articles about Musk’s statement. https://www.yahoo.com/entertainment/elon-musk-suggests-childless-people-195500862.html

My initial reaction: Of course we have a stake in the future.

My second reaction: What is it?

My third reaction: I made a list.

* We may not have given birth, but we love and care for stepchildren, nieces and nephews, godchildren, the children of our friends, our students, and our co-workers. Our lives are linked in one way or another with all the young people in the world. What we do and say and vote for affects their future.

* We share the same planet and suffer the effects of climate change, war, economic upheaval, discrimination, poverty, homelessness, and other problems. We can make a difference with our personal choices, our actions, and yes, our vote.

* We affect the economy with how we spend our money now and after we die. Because I have no children of my own, I can choose to fund a scholarship or grant or an outright gift to support organizations I believe in or enable a young person to do things he/she would not otherwise have been able to do.

* We affect the future of our world by our work and our service, by the things we make, the things we organize, and the things we do and say. The childless military veteran, pediatrician, mechanic, cook, artist, author, garbage collector, and firefighter all contribute to the future of everyone.

The voting bit only refers to the United States, but, wherever we live, we do have a stake in the future, as well as in the present, whether we have 10 children or none. That’s my opinion.

Your comments?

Photo by Sora Shimazaki on Pexels.com

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I sit on a folding chair in my garage surrounded by the leftovers of several people’s lives. This weekend I am holding a garage sale, where I hope to finally get rid of these things and make a little cash. The wares include 200 vinyl records, four cases of CDs, several piles of books, an electric typewriter, two FAX machines, darkroom equipment, Christmas decorations, wine glasses, mugs, and more. I have a basket of refrigerator magnets and knickknacks to give away. Where did it all come from? Some of it was mine, some my late husband’s, but a lot comes from his mother, father and brother, all deceased. All of the things that weren’t taken in the initial rush after they died have ended up with me.

There’s lots more in the house. I’m not ready to sell it, at least not yet, not my mother’s sheet music, my mother-in-law’s china, my grandmother’s tea cups and her rocking chair, boxes and boxes of photographs, slides and movies, more crocheted afghans than I have beds, and some of my husband’s clothing that I can’t let go. I seem to be the inheritor of everything. I give away or sell as much as I can. I distribute things to other family members, but I am still the keeper, the curator, the guardian of what’s left that is too precious to sell or give away.

I’m sentimental. I admit it. I can attach significance to the most seemingly insignificant things. The adorable little copper cup in which I keep my paper clips was part of my husband’s shot glass collection. I look at it and remember our antique store expeditions, so many happy days. Reminders of Fred are everywhere in this house, blended with my own cluttered collection of keepsakes.

I know people who would toss it all in a dumpster and forget it about it. Every sign of the lost loved one would disappear. I fear that’s what will happen to my own stuff when I die.

I have written a will and allotted the house, car, money and other big things to my stepchildren, my niece and nephew, and a couple favorite charities, but what will happen to the little things like pictures and jewelry? I suppose it will be thrown away or put out in a yard sale like I’m doing this weekend. I’m the end of my branch of the family tree. As a childless woman, why do I bother keeping photos and souvenirs? Who am I saving it for?

I’m saving it for me. Seeing these things, having these things makes me happy. It would be wonderful to have grown children to step in and take care of things when I’m incapacitated or dead, but I don’t. Still, I don’t see it being much different from what happened to my grandfather’s house and everything in it: dumpster, yard sale, relatives taking home what they wanted. He had children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren. Parent or not, the process ends up being the same. The only difference is who’s doing it and whether it’s a chore or a labor of love.

People who have children always tell me you can’t count on your kids to step in, so make yourself a will, choose an executor (my brother is mine), and make your wishes known as much as you can. Meanwhile, go ahead and save what makes you happy, just for you. Why not?

Have you inherited your loved one’s things? What did you do with them? Do you worry about what will happen to your things if you don’t have children? Let’s talk in the comments.

Childless by Marriage

In a society where most people have kids, some of us don't because our partners are unable or unwilling to make babies. That's what this blog and my book, Childless by Marriage, are about. Let's talk about what it's really like.

Without Kids, Do We Have a Stake in the Future?

I am the Keeper of the Family Keepsakes