Life's story is not just `clutter'.

Byline: Jan Gottesman

COLUMN: REFLECTIONS

I saw something on the Fine Living channel this weekend, with an expert extolling the virtues of a simple, clutter-free existence. It reduces stress and makes you more productive, she said.

Apparently, life is only worth living if it's done in a barren home with only useful items on display.

The expert's head would explode if she saw my house. I have always joked I would need a mall to properly display all my collections.

They may not be what the expert called "useful," but each collection has meaning to me.

My aunt May bought me my first glass paperweight when I was 8 or 9. The following year, she bought me another, noting that two were a collection. My collection has blossomed to several hundred, given by friends and family, and purchased as souvenirs from my travels.

Each one tells a story to me. Now, with closed cases keeping out the dust, I don't have a reason to take them out and handle them as often as I used to, but that doesn't stop me from admiring each one and remembering a stop in Boston's Chinatown when I was in college (a hilarious trip where I ended up with a small, glass chicken) or touring Shakespeare's town of Stratford on Avon, where I picked up a multi-faceted clear orb.

My father used to collect Royal Doulton character jugs; so did my Uncle Milton. They used to compare collections and needle each other about the bargains they found.

When I took my first trip to England right after college, Doultons may not have been a dime a dozen, but they were very affordable. I brought my father several and my uncle one (to give my father something to one-up him on).

I don't know what happened to my uncle's collection after he died (I assume my cousins either took them or sold them). I have my father's collection and it has tripled in size since he died. I see a jug in a store or at a flea market I think my father would have enjoyed and I need to have it.

My uncle had Royal Doulton figurines, also. My father admired them and, I think, wished they were his. Now, a similar collection is mine. I think my father would have been pleased.

I became fascinated with carousel horses. My parents weren't carnival goers and didn't go on rides. But they did indulge their only child the frivolity of carousel rides.

My parents both fell ill when I was in my mid-20s. My father became bedridden as a result of cancer. Without him to bolster her, my mother slide into the darkness of the Alzheimer's, which began affecting her a decade earlier.

Visiting them in the nursing home, my mother used to love to go out shopping, wandering a tiny gift store where the owner doted on her and let her touch the items, which were all fanciful and beautiful.

The store featured a large collection of collectible carousels and my mother used to delight in my buying these. I ended up with an incredible collection of carousel animals. Today, they fill a bookcase and remind me of my mother being really happy.

My Pierrot clown and mask collections have similar stories. They may not make my house neat, but they make it a home, my home.

Several years ago, Clinton character Dick Harding wrote a book titled "Stressed-Out Again?" When he needed a cover illustration, he stopped into our office and took a picture of my desk.

It makes me laugh to see it now. I still have some of the same things on my desk, including a crumbled McDonald's paper cup I still use for paper clips. The Wachusett Chamber of Commerce directory is visible among the chaos (the same one is still on my desk today, somewhere).

Does the clutter make me stressed? I don't know if I would say that. After all, I have lived in clutter my entire life. And I have always led a life of stresses and deadlines.

But it is a life I chose for myself. I don't know if I could ever simplify it all away.

I don't think I would want to.

I like my clutter. I like the collections that tell stories of my life so far. And I love finding new pieces that add chapters to the book of my life I am still writing.

Yes, when I am gone, someone will either have a large yard sale - or buy a big dumpster. But, for now, I love every piece of clutter - every dust collector - filling my home.

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In today's Item we have begun to publish some of the photos sent in by our readers, in a feature we call "Picture This." Later this week, slide shows of the towns' photos will appear on our Web site, www.clintonitem.com. Some of the images are quite professional. Others are snapshots of family and friends, but all draw a picture of our communities.

Later this year, we will put out another call for photos, so start saving up the images to share with your neighbors.

Jan Gottesman is managing editor of The Item. She can be reached at [e-mail].