Crank

Several years ago, sitting at the kitchen counter with my dad, I asked him if some of my childhood books were still at our house. I had moved out to live with my mom when I was 18, and he had moved in with his girlfriend a short time later. I never gave a second thought to all the stuff I had left behind because I assumed it would always be there. When dad decided to rent the house, he put everything in bags on our back porch and shut the door. As time wore on, the back porch, which was neglected by all of us, gave way to leaks and started falling in on itself. When I asked my question that day at the counter, he seemed surprised and said, “No, kid. Most of that stuff was damaged by the weather when we moved it on the porch. We burned it all.” I was only slightly disappointed. It would have been fun to go through it as an adult, but by burning it all, he released me from the burden of holding on to things for their sentimental value. There wasn’t anything for me to get upset over because I didn’t even know what the burn pile included. It was all stuff I’d left behind anyway, which meant I could live without it.

I’ve been thinking about this because we’ve spent the past week packing up the house, and I can’t help but wonder how two people can accumulate so much crap. And I can’t get over how difficult it is to willingly get rid of something that has sentimental value—which means we don’t get rid of it—which means we’re packing it all in boxes and taking it with us—which means we have a shit load of boxes with a shit load of stuff that we probably wouldn’t know was gone if some neutral party came in and put it on the burn pile. God knows it would be easier than the tedium of sorting through stuff I haven’t looked at in eight years, and then deciding I can’t possibly part with it (granted, I’d forgotten all about it until now). Of course, there are the unexpected delights of coming across cards my grandmother sent me—she and I used to write cards to each other all the time. And when I read them, I can hear her. And if I can hear her when I read the cards, I’m keeping the cards. But, the truth is, I have nearly every card I was ever given since I was eight-years-old. If you’ve sent me a card, I probably still have it. I may not know where it is because my organization skills are worthless, but it’s in a box somewhere. And the only way I’m parting with them is if someone comes in and burns them without my knowledge (and the fact that they are in a box I can’t pinpoint means I may as well not have them at all…except for the delight that comes when I stumble across them).

I’m a little cranky from all the packing and learning that DS and I are pack rats (he has newspaper clips going back 20 years! From his first job!). So much stuff I’d forgotten about, and don’t really need, and haven’t looked at for years, but I pack it anyway.

Sep 3

funkified

This weekend I realized my taste in decor hasn’t changed since I was sixteen years old. This became apparent when DS and I were making our way through the chaos at Bed, Bath and Beyond, doing some last minute shopping for his daughter’s dorm room. We had finished most of the shopping before we went to Boston, but it was evident by the suffocating crowds that many of the students were doing their shopping that day. Anyway, we were walking around Bed, Bath and Beyond looking for light bulbs and body pillow covers, and what should I see but a bright red fleece blanket with the face of Julius the monkey printed on it. Julius is the creation of Paul Frank. I was first introduced to Paul Frank’s products when I found a pair of sky blue keds in Greenwich Village several years ago; Julius was printed on them as well. It was my immediate Oh I have to have this blanket reaction to seeing Julius that made me take note of my unsophisticated taste in decor. When my husband and I first met, I slept on a tie-dye futon and had posters of the Beatles and John Lennon decorating my apartment. This was seven years ago. He, on the other hand, had and has sophisticated taste–very clean and modern which stands in stark relief to my love for tie dye, polkadot and sock monkeys. As we pack up our house for the next move, and start looking for new houses, I’ve already told him I’d like one room to call my own in which will go my tie-dye futon, my Julius the monkey blanket, my enormous John Coltrane poster, my incense burner, and my four lava lamps. I guess my tastes have been forever cemented in retro/hippie funk.

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We spent several hours at the Met last week. I’d never been there before; it was beautiful and overwhelming. I captured this picture while I was there. I couldn’t have posed the two of them better if I wanted to:

Aug 26

lovely

Last night the sky was clear and the stars were breathtaking. It was hard to tear myself away from them and go inside. Right now I’m sitting on my brother-in-law’s deck. I’ve locked myself out of the house, but I have my book, my notebook, and my coffee, so I’m fine until DS returns. The weather is lovely. Sunny, breezy, cool. The house is tucked away in a lot surrounded by trees–I hear some construction work going on in the distance, but I have to really listen to hear it. For the most part there is no traffic, no voices, no sounds at all except birds, bugs, and wind in the tree branches.

Aug 23

Changes

We’re leaving tomorrow for a week long visit to Connecticut (with forays into New York City) before driving my step-daughter to her college in Boston next weekend. I’m looking forward to getting away for a while. When we return we have much cleaning and packing and painting to do. We hope to be out of the house by the end of September. We’ll be making a move to the midwest or the northeast–we’ll know for sure closer to the end of next month. Once I know, everyone else will know too. In the meantime, if you know of anyone who needs to rent a townhouse or needs to hire a photographer, send them this way.

Aug 2