To the Editor:
I like to think I keep an organized home, but the home-organizing philosophy of Barbara Reich deserves an argument. Who would want to live in such a restricted and structured place?
I am a committed saver of mementos because they serve as a physical connection to my family that can be passed on to my children and grandchildren. Yes, I have kept some of my children’s toys, and now my grandchildren play with them. Letters and cards from my parents, husband and children can bring a family history to life.
Recently in one of my many boxes (all labeled and stored in a closet) I found my son’s school basketball shirt. He was thrilled, as he had no idea I had saved it. Now his 7-year-old son wears it. How great is that!
Ruth L. Krugman
Avon, Conn., Jan. 9, 2011
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To the Editor:
One would think, for $150 an hour, that Barbara Reich might devote some effort to recycling or reusing unneeded items. She says that throwing things out will “free the mind” of her client. What about the mind-freeing satisfaction of knowing that an unwanted toy will go to a needy child? Or that useful items are not being turned into landfill?
Laura R. Jarett
Madison, Conn., Jan. 9, 2011
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To the Editor:
It is a sad state of affairs when Barbara Reich, home organizer to the rich, cavalierly puts Candy Land into the trash because, as the article puts it, “between sporting events, music lessons and charity galas, who has time?”
Although my children are grown, our family has fond memories of heated games of Clue, Sorry, Monopoly and, yes, Candy Land. Discarding board games in favor of other scheduled activities does not allow for free play with family members and friends, and is just another nail in the coffin of childhood as we once knew it.
Marsha Berkowitz
New York, Jan. 10, 2011
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To the Editor:
“Organize This!” aptly zeroes in on the stress that comes with excess consumption. But the article’s description of Barbara Reich cheerleading as clients address too many Birkin bags trivializes the real goals of the professional organizer.
I’ve watched as clients let go of piles of accumulated stuff; it’s a real relief even for those who are neither as neurotically neat as Ms. Reich nor as rich as her clients. But the work can go much deeper if I resist declaring what’s “garbage” and what passes William Morris’s test of usefulness and beauty.
Finding a place of honor for a love letter from a life partner, now deceased, or getting to the bottom of papered-over financial problems is important work. And when the process teaches people to create their own sense of order, so much the better. My goal is for my clients to be able to open the mail without me.
