The Things we Don't Throw Away - aka "The Vera Revolution"

It happens this time of year, each and every year.  With the incoming glut of Christmas giving, we realize our house is full of crap and we need to pare down.  This year was no different, and then again, in every way different than last, for I received, from Tim, for Christmas, a Vera Bradley bag.  

Never really being a "purse girl" it is interesting to note that  I have eyed Vera Bradley's for a long time, but have never been able to commit.  How like me, ideas a plenty, no follow through. Well this year, with Tim searching for a gift that could keep on giving (Vera's have a ton of coordinating accessories, making his subsequent gift giving simple and guaranteed)  I suggested a Vera bag and gave him two styles and two prints to choose from.  He made a great choice, and knowing that he ordered it and had it shipped to school, I have  a cute little vision of him and a bunch of 10th grade girls perusing the Vera website on his Smartboard - a fine use of taxpayer money if I ever saw one!

Christmas came and went, and Vera became my new purse,and all her wonderful compartments and pockets became my salvation as I realized how out of organizational whack I had become,and perhaps in a bigger way, how out of emotional whack I had become as well.  My emotional issue is actually the fact that I have grown and changed a lot as a person the last couple of years, questioning at every turn where my life was going.  I think I finally kind of "grew up" so to speak, in as much as I don't think I was that bad off before, but have in a lot of ways gone through acceptance of my teacher/mom/wife status.  I don't think it showed on the outside TOO much, but those close to me know what I mean.  

I had immense stress and anger to work through at work over a number of things ranging from being ousted repeatedly from grade levels, disregarded for a library job, and in the middle of a huge contract dispute.  I would say that I am finally over that, finally just enjoying my job for what it is.  Although tempted at a number of times, my job, I did not throw away.

What did I toss?  Well, I lost 20 lbs, which speaks in a lot of ways to change, and have kept it off for half a year or so.  That has happened before, sure, but this time feels different, like I want to stay the way I am for more reasons than just vanity.  Certainly a change, and a reverse type of growth as well, or a realization as I age of what must go.

There also seems to be a lot of clearing out going on in the world around me as I have recently watched some marriages fall apart, or be put through situations of public upheaval, and in seeing things like that one can't help but evaluate their own relationship.  I love my husband and my life in every sense, but I think people, normal  well adjusted people, often go through times where they wonder what might have been different.  If you don't then more power to you, but I do and did, have and probably will again.  Over the last couple of years I have just learned that this is ME and just because I question does not mean I am in trouble or that there should be change, just that I tend to reflect and to embrace reflection and not to be scared of it as it can cause growth.  I look at things critically at times, but think carefully before I throw away.

Lately as well, there has been the beginning and not ending of projects in my home...an immense frustration laced in joy over the last couple of years.  It is the product of living in any house, but in particular an old one...the project that it is is never ending, and a constant balance of what you keep and what you throw away.

We don't just throw away perfectly good old houses.  What else do we NOT throw away?  We don't just throw away marriage, or long old friendships.  We try not to toss memories in the heat of the moment, ideas.  Hopefully, if we live our life consciously, and conscientiously, we don't throw away WHO WE ARE.  We rid ourselves periodically of clutter, but try to remember to savor and stash those things that will help us find our way later in life - old cards, letters, personal things, journals, photos, videos, little notes, even Chinese fortunes.  Sometimes it can be cleansing to throw away those old things (Sue, this is a documented reminder about the journal you just tossed in the fire- you know my memory!!) but we don't do anything like that quickly or without consideration.  We must cleanse to be able to continue to receive the good in life, but we hold on to the past as a touchstone of who and what we were, as a compass towards who and what we may become.

And for those things we can't seem to part with can probably find a little corner, somewhere, in our Vera Bradley bags.

-Cheryl 

Last week sometime, Oprah had Nate on her show. They were talking about how your home should tell a story about WHO you are the minute someone walks in. He said that every home should have a few key things. First thing was souvenirs from a trip that made you happy. Next: a special framed letter or note from someone, and then he talked about framing children's art work and getting if off the fridge. He said everyone needs something from the sea and also a weird chair that doesn't really match anything else in the room. Through it all, I kept thinking about my Uncle Dave's little apartment in CT. It was all of like 200 square feet or something like that. Even though I last saw it at age 8, I can still recall the layout, and what it all looked like. It told a story about who he was. It was great.

After the Nate show I set out on a mission to do some of the things he talked about. I still have deep regrets about the letters I threw away before getting married and moving out of my purple Murray St. bedroom. My Uncle Dave and I had written since the late 70s, tapering off slowly as I got older and ending with his death in 1994. I had hundreds of cards, letters and who knows what in a box under my bed. I am 99.9% sure they all went even though I can't actually remember DOING it. I did save a handful of cards and notes because of the fun or artsy cards they were written on. I knew they were in my desk at school.

At Kohl's that weekend I found a frame that I knew Uncle Dave would have loved. I had pictured one of the few remaining notes being framed and hung in my home, earning me a "Nate point". I felt this is where I needed to start, and I couldn't go on until I accomplished this.

I finally got around to finding the small stash at work. I was hugely disappointed in what I found. A few of the notes were on cards that I removed the backs from, thus losing half the message. The others were on strange postcards with nose cut outs in case you were in need of a quick Halloween costume. In other words, nothing suitable for framing from Nate's point of view, or my own for that matter.

This morning I searched the house frantically for maybe an overlooked note stashed in with my wedding cards. I did find a couple, but they were formal and not at all what I wanted. I was looking for the random, trivial ramble of his busy life. I again returned to my small stack of postcards. I spent some time wondering why the notes I wanted so much were gone, as was the person who wrote them, while I hung on to a few stacks of stupid school girl notes from friends I talk to every day. Then I had an idea. At Bed Bath and Beyond I found an 11x14 frame that floats a document between 2 pieces of glass. I got it and put together a collage of the cards and a favorite photo. I hung it over my computer where I will see it often. I am not sure I am happy with the layout, but for now I feel at peace with it.

Next project is to go through the stash of the kids art work and see what is frame worthy. Cheryl already told me that my little school desk qualifies as my 1 chair that doesn't "go" and I need to bring home my Florida shell from 1975 that sits on my classroom shelf. Aunt Barb and I bought that right before the car was broken into on the beach. So not only is it a piece of the sea, but a souvenir and a story in itself.

DORK that I am I found tonight that an iPod can make doing the dishes a hell of a lot more fun. Now, I should begin with the fact that dishes and I have a long and sordid history. I never helped with the dishes growing up, being a kept child with a, for the most part, stay at home mother. Then came college, and my dear friends will attest to the fact that my HotPot would sit on the corner of my desk ofttimes for a week (or more...I'll admit) at a time, much to the consternation of my roommates. Early marriage brought the sink pile that we both could ignore due to immaturity, independence of living on our own and by our own rules, and general stubbornness towards what neither of us wanted to be the first to do. Our marriage thrived, but the dishes regularly became a tower threatening to crash, wrecking our wedding gift stoneware. A few years into marriage, with our first baby on the way, the hubby and I decided a dishwasher would be a good investment in marital bliss, with the advent of baby bottles and such on the horizon, and it surely was a factor that kept the fighting and power struggles at bay during those early baby lack of sleep days/nights.

Well, let's just say a few years and two dishwashers later, our baby, about to turn 10, arrived home from his Cub Scout meeting finding his mother dancing around the kitchen, in plaid flannel PJ's and shearling slippers, iPod aglow in my pocket, and putting things in the dishwasher. After a little nod and a giggle, he, responsible young boy that he is, informed me that my music was much to loud, and I should turn it down, as he scurried off to bed. I though, continued to rock out, in particular to my new Lenny Kravitz, Culture Club, Colbie Calliet mix...two stepping towards the mugs, and sliding to the silverware, making the most of the things that must be done. It's how we get by.
-Cheryl