Moving into a new home has been healthy for me — both physically and mentally

Buying and moving into a new house offered a fresh start.

Fresh coats of paint brightened walls. My choice of hues and tones. Admittedly, I had no idea what I was doing when choosing paint colors but it worked out. I paid a pro because I am a non-skilled painter. Easily distracted. Story of my life.

New artwork brightened walls. You can get some cool stuff from the clearance aisle at Home Goods. As much as I wanted, I could not hang autographed sports memorabilia everywhere in the house.

Old family photos came out of storage to fill additional wall space and shelves. Dad’s old baseball team. My First Communion class at St. Philip’s Grade School 1966-67. Gramps. My two kids with Red Schoendienst.

Dad’s corkball rests on a prominent shelf in my main room.

I have moved a few times in recent years. I’m hoping my new home is my last stop for many years. Time to settle. Next stop? Let’s not go there.

Moving homes is a lot of work, though. I’m tired of cardboard boxes, packing and unpacking. Plastic totes. Rolls of tape. Bubble wrap. Lifting. Scooting. Sliding. The back of my SUV filled with so much stuff I couldn’t find my golf clubs.

I’ve noticed miraculous things happen when I move.

I’m not sure how I managed to move the huge, heavy chest of drawers from my walk-in closet to the bedroom. Push. Twist. Pull. Scoot.

How did I fit all those boxes and bags of shoes and clothes into my SUV’s backseat?

These two extension ladders? Sure. They fit in my SUV. Somehow.

Moving served as a reminder of what’s important to me. Look around. The personal keepsakes that I’ve moved from house to house, decade to decade. The little pieces that have not ended up in a dumpster in the driveway.

If there was a fire, and I had 10 minutes to gather my most important belongings, what would I grab?

Of course, my wallet, keys and cell phone. The challenge is that likely I would not remember where I left them. Finding them would likely take my full 10 minutes.

I’d grab an extra box of contact lenses or eyeglasses. I could not drive a car or see the scoreboard without eye assistance.

Shoes, of course.

A coat, if winter.

Maybe a snack. Probably the bag of Dot’s cinnamon sugar pretzels. Maybe Vanilla Wafers.

I don’t have a pet to save. I love dogs. But at a stage in life in which I don’t want to care for a dog. Also, it hurts too much when they move on.

I’d grab the envelope of important personal documents like my birth certificate and passport.

Memorable memorabilia

Furniture-wise, I don’t have any sentimental attachments. Maybe save that old 100-year-old hall desk that was my Aunt Marie’s. The hall tree that has been in every home since my children were born. The other stuff? Just furniture. You can have it, fire.

The bobbleheads? I’d go to my favorites. Musial. Gibson. Brock. David Freese. Ken Boyer. Simmons and McCarver. Jayson Tatum. Kareem. Walter Payton. Kurt Warner. Same for the sports memorabilia. I’d save all the Stan the Man stuff.

It’s the personal, sentimental tokens of my life that I’d fight through fire to preserve. All the photos of my family and friends. The 1904 World’s Fair plate from my grandparents. The plaster impression of my handprint when I was five years old in 1964. Same chubby little paw today.

The City of East St. Louis bicentennial commemorative plate (All America City). And photos. All the printed photos. They’re irreplaceable.

Moving into a new home has been healthy — physically and mentally. I’m hoping it becomes my new home and not just a place to live in the meantime.