My parents would not argue with the fact that they were pack rats. We had a family of seven. As someone else, in Cardiogirl's comments, observed: anytime there are a large number of children, there is an accumulation of things, papers, etc. Because my parents were Salvation Army officers, we were moved to a new location every two to three years and with every move we seemed to have more boxes accumulating in the next houses' garage. It was a problem, but we were always too strapped for time to go through the painful process of sorting and pitching. I know they tried. We always had garage sales. Sadly, I think they still are trying to sort through the years of accumulation.
My sister, on the other hand, runs a very tight ship and I have never really seen clutter in her home. My brothers all married women who are more organized and try to keep them organized (I know they, too, struggle with the "piles on the kitchen table problem." But, as much as I wish I had less clutter, I really love looking at the things I have saved over the years.
This short visit was a case in point. While my sons were playing in the basement, I noticed several boxes under the pool table labeled "J & W's things." I found a wonderful set of glass bowls which we received as a wedding present in 1990. I meant to bring them home. I forgot. The other things in the boxes were really cool. One box contained my old clanging cymbals monkey. A small jewelry box contained my Salvation Army epulets from The Oakbrook Terrace Corps (I suppose the reason this is so cool is that 20 years after removing those epulets, my oldest brother and his wife are now stationed as the corps officers at that corps). It also contained several key-chains my parents bought me - one from Disney World and one of a double decker bus, from their first trip to London. I found an adorable macrame insect. I don't remember what friend made it for me, but my MS fell in love with it and promptly absconded with it, quickly breaking off the eyes - groan.
I didn't continue to dig through the boxes, but thought I really must head back this summer and reclaim my things from their house. I know they are trying to declutter. They asked my husband if they could throw out our two bikes hanging in the garage. My husband said, "Sure." I chimed in, "Oh, could we bring them here?" My ES could ride the men's bike and I'd like to keep my bike. I'm sure there were inward groans, but outwardly they were very gracious. Then, I waxed nostalgic and said, "Remember when we didn't have kids and a visit to your parents meant long, leisurely bike rides over the country roads (once we even got lost)." My ES does actually need a ten-speed. However, I already have a different bike, so I should let them dispose of my old one that I kept there.
Then, after the boys had gone to bed, I peeked in the upstairs closet. I saw my wedding dress. I was hanging on to that in case I had a girl. I guess that's something I could try to sell on e-bay. Another box held all my music trophies and awards. Inside this box, I found my HS diploma and a plastic bag full of letters which friends of mine sent during the year prior to that graduation. Those letters were especially important because they carried me through a very difficult time.
You see, my parents were moved from Chicago to Sioux Falls, South Dakota, just prior to my senior year of HS. Up until now, it was the most difficult move of my life. I left behind my instrument, a class rank of 5th out of several hundred, a host of very good friends, a youth band I was privileged to travel with, and two brothers (one remained in Chicago and the other headed off to Asbury College in Kentucky).
I pulled out and read almost every letter in the bundle. Several times, I came close to tears. Many of these correspondents are still friends (several of them still go to the Oakbrook Terrace Corps). The letters were full of encouragements to hang in there. They held gossip (who was dating who). They held scripture verses. They held love and sympathy (many were also officer's kids and used to having their lives uprooted from time to time). They let me know that I had a host of people supporting me, even though I felt very lonely (I had five study halls a day and spent all of my time reading. One of my few classes was an independent reading class and I remember that I completed the assigned semester's worth of pages within the first two or three weeks.)
I tucked the letters into my luggage and headed to bed. I was sleeping in my husband's boyhood room, which contains two twin beds and a crib. My ES was already fast asleep in the bed next to me and was facing me. I couldn't fall asleep. Not only was my mind full of all those bits and pieces of my past, but it was now full of bits and pieces of my ES's past.
I stared at him. He is so tall and lank now (especially after losing 10 lbs. in wrestling). His body fills out the entire bed, even though I remember when he was in the crib. Where did all that time go? How did he get so big? Will I cling to little momentos from his childhood, trying to hold him back from leaving my nest?
I am knee-deep in the process of getting rid of the baby things. No more need to hang on. No just-in-case. We are done. What cannot be sold at the children's resale shop will go to the Crisis Pregnancy Center. I have already made several trips (and my husband is SO GRATEFUL!). I even took a photo of a toy I hated to part with.
A friend crocheted this turtle over a margarine tub filled with beans and gave it to me at my first baby shower. I hated to toss this without taking a photo to remember it by.
I know that I keep way too many things. For example, when we lived in an apartment in DeKalb, we discovered that the gal across the hall grew up in Sioux Falls, SD. One night, I said, "Hey, you should come over and visit because I have all of the HS newspapers from the year I went to school there." She was blown away. She had a great time seeking out names and faces of people she knew. She now has four children, so I know she wouldn't have wanted to hang on to those newsletters, but I probably should have tried to pawn them off on her (I didn't even like that school or know many people, since I spent most of my time in silent study halls). Perhaps I'll look through them again this summer and then, throw them out! But, maybe I need Cardiogirl to come visit and help me in that process.
5 comments:
Both sets of grandparents are pack rats. My maternal grandparents were clean and orderly packrats- meaning all the clutter was hidden in closets and 'storage rooms'. The house was tidy and clean- they just had 'stuff'.
My paternal grandparents are also pack rats- but more like hoarders. There is filth everywhere and if they can't find it they buy a new one (pan set, towels, knives, car- not kidding, my sisters found a car buried under boxes one summer that my grandparents had forgotten they had!)
I feel like when I'm cleaning and orgnaizing I'm fighting my natural inclinations and my genes. It's hard though to not hold onto everything.
Amber - I wonder what it is that makes a person either a pitcher or a saver. Is there truly a gene? Will they one day eliminate us savers (since it is obvious that we are more of a problem than the pitchers)? I know my tendencies, but don't know that I really and truly want to fight those tendencies. Part of that is what makes me who I am. However, I will say that being more of a pitcher would make life easier (especially living with my husband).
I love your trips down memory lane, Wendy! You have such an interesting past. One day you and I are going to do a word association game and write posts for the next four days on what we come up with.
Wendy, coming from the same set of family genes, I found this post very interesting. Grandma's house was always tidy. My parents are packrats, maybe even considered hoarders. When I was real young, I never remember the house cluttered and when I see old pictures, the house is neat and tidy. However, as we got older--I think the storage places where everything was being stowed away were getting more full and so the house began to remain more cluttered--to the point I was embarrassed to have anyone over to the house. For my dad, its books, newspapers (piles upon piles--to go through--cut out articles and recipes to keep) and containers (for his gardening produce). For my mom, she loves to collect things she loves and have them around to look at and see. But then there are clothes with no closet spaces--because they are full of outgrown and outdated clothing and children's books in a bookcase even though there are no longer children at the house (only my son once a year). There's only about 4 square inches of counter space at my parents' to prepare food on. They take home all the disposable cups, lids, silverware, courtesty shampoos and soaps from hotel stays. 2 bedrooms are so full of storage no one can sleep in them when they visit and you can't walk through but a path in the full basement. My mom does love books and she loves the children's books--at least they are in a bookcase! My younger brother is showing some of my parents' tendencies. My parents are very frugle and I do believe that many things were kept for re-use down the road--but then they became comfortable with living with all their stuff. Sadly, they saved all our childhood toys for grandchildren, yet when the time came and they have one--they could only find a few to share--and never passed any on to him--only to play with on his annual visit. It's a treasure trove in their basement and I both look forward to and regret the day I can go through some of the items from my childhood. I am about 80% different from them. I like my house neat and tidy. I make regular trips to donation centers, our annual church rummage sale, give things away--yet I still have too much stuff stored away that I haven't been able to part with or may need someday. Even as a kid--I wanted my room clean, it's calming to me. I think that in my case, it has something to do with my organization skills. I am pretty well organized so I have a lot of stuff that is well organized, but its also how I organize my thoughts. When the house is cluttery, I feel edgy. There's a bin for newspapers and when its full I recycle them. When my parents visit--the coffee table and kitchen counter tops are full minutes after their arrival as they make themselves comfortable spreading newspapers, catalogs coffee cups around the house, bring their perishable food to fill my fridge and counters, medicine containers, bags... I know it drives my parents nuts that I clean the kitchen up completely after a meal rather than let dishes sit or pick up a coffee cup that they would use again later in the day, for instance. My mother-in-law is a neat nick and constantly cleans. I did pick up some good habits from her when she lived with us for several months. I think my son thrives in a cluttered room--he says he knows where everything is and his idea of clean is different than my idea of clean--he says. My husband has issues with papers and periodicals and books. I don't know the why's but it is interesting how different people can be. ~Karin
Cardiogirl - bring on the word association game - sounds like fun! I still don't know how you blog every day. Sometimes I just don't feel like it or can't get into the groove (there's where disciplined writers JUST DO IT!)
Karin - loved reading this response. I'll probably have to e-mail all my thoughts. Thanks for checking my blog even when I know tax man cometh and your days are mighy BUSY!
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