Seven Dumpsters and a Corpse

I watch much less TV than I used to, there seems like such rubbish on most days. So, I was not optimistic as I flipped the TV dials the other evening looking for something worth watching. The Documentary channel was just beginning a piece called "Seven Dumpsters and a Corpse" - now, who could resist peeking to see what that was all about?

The programme's storyline said:

"In this darkly comic and irreverent look at life and death, filmmaker Thomas Haemmerli is informed of his reclusive and somewhat estranged mother's demise on the eve of his 40th birthday. When he and his brother arrive at her flat they are horrified to discover that she was a pack rat of the worst order; her apartment is filthy and crammed with junk dating back more than 70 years."

I was a bit reluctant to watch at first, as I tend to be a bit of a hoarder myself ...hmmmm,in 30 some years will my sons arrive at my apartment to find bits of me rotting behind piles of old newspapers??? "Don't be silly Pauline", I sternly reprimanded myself, and bravely tuned in to watch the programme.

It was an amazing documentary!! Not so much for the content, but for the way Haemmerli had brilliantly edited all the many hours of recorded film. The reality was that their mother's small place in Switzerland was literally disgusting, and it actually took seven full dumpsters, plus much more burned in the fireplace, to clear out the apartment. The film shows the two bothers as they worked tirelessly for a full month at cleaning out the mess. But, another more enticing storyline wove through the film - their mother was an avid amateur photographer and the men found piles of old home movies and photographs from their childhood in the 60's and beyond, and these were intermittently shown as the brothers worked. Gazing into the eyes of the vibrant, happy woman on the screen there were few clues that she would end her life in such a dismal way ... alone, a rotting corpse, amongst the debris of her life.

Pretty depressing stuff, but totally fascinating at the same time. Old movies of her mother (their grandmother), a well-to-do Swiss Countess, showed her enjoying a full and joyous life, whilst their mother was languishing in a children's home after her father had died. Was this the beginning of her problems?

It seems hoarding rubbish actually has a medical name, 'syllogomania', and it is believed to be a type of obsessive-compulsive disorder - well, that makes sense! But, what about people like me who can't quite part with sentimental things ... cards which still bring tears to my eyes, little drawings my children did in primary school (I've boxes of those!) That's different, you say, "Ah, but is this the thin edge of the wedge???" What about my husband who saves every little bit of off-cut wood in case he needs it someday (Oh no, will we BOTH be found one day on the floor behind the newspapers, him clutching his wood and me my drawings?) Are we both aspiring syllogomaniacs??

When we moved from our last home, a very good friend helped me sort through the 22 years of typical family clutter I had accumulated whilst living there. She was great, as I picked up each item she sternly repeated the mantra, "Does it make you feel good?" I had to answer quickly, and only if it did was the piece put into the 'saved' pile. The only problem was, I ran out of time and with moving day fast approaching, I made the sweeping decision that everything that was left made me feel good and just dumped it all into a moving box and brought it here to the new house.

And here it all sits ... in boxes, in the basement, unopened for nearly eight years, silently gathering dust, staring reproachfully at me whenever I venture downstairs. Now you know why this film scared me so much.

Ummm, think I had better go and deal with some unfinished business ...!