Apparently there are some rules for moving. Axioms. All kinds of self-evident things that are relatively invisible until you enter the train wreck called moving.
It is one thing to be upsizing and have more than adequate space for things that require space, but have no useful purpose. And to be sure, there is an axiom that allows for the filling of that space even if it began its noble existence as a blank slate. Stuff begets stuff. That would be another axiom.
So here I am plowing through the infinite boxes ofnonsense stuff that must be kept for some reason or another only to find that most of it is drivel and has no capacity to speak up about why it landed there in the first place. I have sorted the children's papers, art and classroom artifacts from preschool on and tossed about 50% of it. What possessed me to save a piece of paper with one crayon mark on it, dateless and nameless, is a mystery to me.
Even with all that sorted out; I still have too many boxes.
I came across letters. Tons of letters, some very amusing. Like the response from former Gov. Kunin of Vermont to a letter of concern I wrote about the budget, assuring me that the budget would not, in fact, remove funding for kids and family programs but that things were tight and no promises could be made. Another letter is from Jerry of Ben&Jerry thanking me for a holiday card. When I moved to CA he sent along a bunch of peace pops that I gave out to my fellow United Way staff as a treat – those had not been distributed in the west just yet so they were new to people here. I had to first explain myself to the President of that United Way to make sure that the peace pops ice cream did not signify any particular political persuasion. I assured them it was merely Cherry Garcia ice cream on a stick. They weren't terribly assured.
Another letter is from Howard Dean assuring me that he will still be a reference for any job or graduate program I would try for in my new land (that would be CA). Do you think after all this time he might still do that? I bet he can't even remember my name, let alone that he wrote that.
There was another sweet letter from Gov. Hoff's wife, Joan after hearing about my youngest daughter's scoliosis surgery offering any help she could give. I must have known her well, but I don’t recall that.
I found my dissertation for getting our insurance changed from the HMO to the PPO for the child's pending surgery from Big Blue. Big Blue acquiesced. In that packet was a letter from a lawyer who on our behalf took on the HMO. I don't even remember that part at all.
There are numerous letters from a very elderly Aunt who was the beacon of the family tree. She was precious and died almost 15 years ago. And I found the letter my brother Eric wrote to my mom's friend. The family Rabbi had the letter and held it until Eric died. In my post about Eric, I mentioned the letter.
There are letters and cards from the children. All the letters from summer camp from the oldest are ringed with "I wanna go home" on the envelopes and on the edges of all the notes she wrote those summers. I guess camp wasn't her cup of tea. The other child only addressed her letters to her father. Apparently our mother/daughter battles began early. She went by several different names too. There are versions from "Sally", and some from "Elisabeth", neither of which is her real name.
There are lots of notes from my friend who enjoys talking about herself, back then on paper, these days on her cell phone.
I tossed those, as well as the thanks for the budget remarks. I kept Howard's note because you never know when you might need a reference from Dean. I say that with all due respect for fiction and fairy tales.
The letters from the children and most of their art is too precious to part ways. Letters and birthday cards from people, who obviously were a big part of my life, but for the life of me I have no recollection of who they are, get tossed. If I can't remember them now, do you think there is a chance of recall in the next decade? Forgetfulness only gets worse!
I found my youngest daughter's first Paddington Bear. Now that is a keeper. I located a pay stub from my old Head Start job when I was truly a brunette. The total gross amount was less than the cost of a grocery store trip these days.
These past couple of days was like exploring our own personal history channel in a box or two. It was exhausting. Now all of it has to get moved to storage. Seems downsizing means that not only do you rent a smaller place to live, but then you must come up with an additional home for all the vital history that must live on in boxes.
There are still piles everywhere. Where once things were neatly, ok, not so neatly tucked in closets or containers, they now litter the house everywhere. Closets are empty and I have to wonder how all this stuff that makes it impossible to walk anywhere but in a skinny pathway throughout the house, ever fit in those closets to begin with. Miles to go before we rest.
It is one thing to be upsizing and have more than adequate space for things that require space, but have no useful purpose. And to be sure, there is an axiom that allows for the filling of that space even if it began its noble existence as a blank slate. Stuff begets stuff. That would be another axiom.
So here I am plowing through the infinite boxes of
Even with all that sorted out; I still have too many boxes.
I came across letters. Tons of letters, some very amusing. Like the response from former Gov. Kunin of Vermont to a letter of concern I wrote about the budget, assuring me that the budget would not, in fact, remove funding for kids and family programs but that things were tight and no promises could be made. Another letter is from Jerry of Ben&Jerry thanking me for a holiday card. When I moved to CA he sent along a bunch of peace pops that I gave out to my fellow United Way staff as a treat – those had not been distributed in the west just yet so they were new to people here. I had to first explain myself to the President of that United Way to make sure that the peace pops ice cream did not signify any particular political persuasion. I assured them it was merely Cherry Garcia ice cream on a stick. They weren't terribly assured.
Another letter is from Howard Dean assuring me that he will still be a reference for any job or graduate program I would try for in my new land (that would be CA). Do you think after all this time he might still do that? I bet he can't even remember my name, let alone that he wrote that.
There was another sweet letter from Gov. Hoff's wife, Joan after hearing about my youngest daughter's scoliosis surgery offering any help she could give. I must have known her well, but I don’t recall that.
I found my dissertation for getting our insurance changed from the HMO to the PPO for the child's pending surgery from Big Blue. Big Blue acquiesced. In that packet was a letter from a lawyer who on our behalf took on the HMO. I don't even remember that part at all.
There are numerous letters from a very elderly Aunt who was the beacon of the family tree. She was precious and died almost 15 years ago. And I found the letter my brother Eric wrote to my mom's friend. The family Rabbi had the letter and held it until Eric died. In my post about Eric, I mentioned the letter.
There are letters and cards from the children. All the letters from summer camp from the oldest are ringed with "I wanna go home" on the envelopes and on the edges of all the notes she wrote those summers. I guess camp wasn't her cup of tea. The other child only addressed her letters to her father. Apparently our mother/daughter battles began early. She went by several different names too. There are versions from "Sally", and some from "Elisabeth", neither of which is her real name.
There are lots of notes from my friend who enjoys talking about herself, back then on paper, these days on her cell phone.
I tossed those, as well as the thanks for the budget remarks. I kept Howard's note because you never know when you might need a reference from Dean. I say that with all due respect for fiction and fairy tales.
The letters from the children and most of their art is too precious to part ways. Letters and birthday cards from people, who obviously were a big part of my life, but for the life of me I have no recollection of who they are, get tossed. If I can't remember them now, do you think there is a chance of recall in the next decade? Forgetfulness only gets worse!
I found my youngest daughter's first Paddington Bear. Now that is a keeper. I located a pay stub from my old Head Start job when I was truly a brunette. The total gross amount was less than the cost of a grocery store trip these days.
These past couple of days was like exploring our own personal history channel in a box or two. It was exhausting. Now all of it has to get moved to storage. Seems downsizing means that not only do you rent a smaller place to live, but then you must come up with an additional home for all the vital history that must live on in boxes.
There are still piles everywhere. Where once things were neatly, ok, not so neatly tucked in closets or containers, they now litter the house everywhere. Closets are empty and I have to wonder how all this stuff that makes it impossible to walk anywhere but in a skinny pathway throughout the house, ever fit in those closets to begin with. Miles to go before we rest.
Comments
Priorities. . . .yours are right.
This was such a sweet post. It's amazing how the story of our lives can be found in what we choose to save. The letters from your kids at camp are too funny. I'm glad you saved those. :)
I'll look forward to your post on how you know Howard Dean (hint!)
I'll look forward to your post on how you know Howard Dean (hint!)
I've moved too many times and I still have too much stuff. I feel a big purge coming on. Thanks for reminding me of how long it takes to do that kind of emotional sorting, and how rewarding it can be (in small doses.)
Was recently watching "The Grapes of Wrath" (not the most hopeful fare in these economic times, but the movie apparently has ben zooming up the charts at Netflix!). Your post reminded me of the scene where Ma Joad is going through her stuff before they leave and she looks at this ceramic dog gewgaw they had got at some fair and that's one thing (plus her earrings which make her look 20 years younger in that shot) which she takes with her to Californy. Great movie. Great post.
WOOF
WOOF
My mother moved in with me about a year and half ago (she has the start of ALzheimers). The moving company arrived with 437 cartons of stuff (I like to refer to as crap). Each of those cartons was like those Russian dolls - inside there were smaller cartons and boxes. My mother never met a rubber band, book of matches or a pen she couldn't keep. I have only been "allowed" to get rid of about half the stuff. Now, what I keep, *that's* important......!! I feel your downsizing....rated.
awwwwwwwwwwwwwww Mommy!!!
I know, I know, I know ... only this year did we start throwing out anything from school ... and it breaks my heart ... but 5 kids equals a LOT of boxes ... :(
Moving is the pits! Sending you lots of happy love!!!
I know, I know, I know ... only this year did we start throwing out anything from school ... and it breaks my heart ... but 5 kids equals a LOT of boxes ... :(
Moving is the pits! Sending you lots of happy love!!!
I mailed off one box (ok, 2) to the kid who doesn't lose everything. For now, must hang onto the stuff for the kid who loses everything.
I saw the storage space this morning. Ohoh. It is 5x10 and when well packed can hold all these treasures for the mere price of $90/month. Prime real estate these days, storage.
There was one more letter that made me pause. An email I received almost a dozen years back from my dearest SIL - I received the email after I returned from her funeral. Sigh.
I will feel better once all that stuff is stored away carefully and I don't have to trip over it.
Thanks for all the nice comments and good thoughts. It is very much appreciated. Purge is good!
I saw the storage space this morning. Ohoh. It is 5x10 and when well packed can hold all these treasures for the mere price of $90/month. Prime real estate these days, storage.
There was one more letter that made me pause. An email I received almost a dozen years back from my dearest SIL - I received the email after I returned from her funeral. Sigh.
I will feel better once all that stuff is stored away carefully and I don't have to trip over it.
Thanks for all the nice comments and good thoughts. It is very much appreciated. Purge is good!
oh, sweetheart, purging can be great for the soul. this is a lovely and charming post. did you ever hear george carlin's rant on stuff? i'll try to find it for you. moving is awful but it is a great opportunity to take stock of one's life. love love love and rated!!
We have a storage unit....it holds all of my worldly posessions. I have all the photos here in the apartment tho...I was afraid..this way I have some control if we have to leave quickly.
I save the kids stuff, but due to space contraints, I have a tendancy not to save as you did. I have the art folders from the end of the year, and they are a lot of fun to look at. Once in a while I go thru the photos, I keep thinking I will have spare time and make albums..still waiting for that spare time. sigh....It will feel good in the end to purge all the stuff. It only hurts for a little bit.
I save the kids stuff, but due to space contraints, I have a tendancy not to save as you did. I have the art folders from the end of the year, and they are a lot of fun to look at. Once in a while I go thru the photos, I keep thinking I will have spare time and make albums..still waiting for that spare time. sigh....It will feel good in the end to purge all the stuff. It only hurts for a little bit.
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