Sunday, June 17, 2007

A Sad Anniversary

I woke up Monday morning feeling sad for no apparent reason. That cloud of gloom hung over me all day, and it wasn’t until the following morning that I realized I had “forgotten” the anniversary of my late husband Wayne’s death twelve years ago. After twelve years, my conscious mind barely acknowledges the day anymore, but something deeper doesn’t allow me to forget it.

I was on four days of bereavement leave for my father’s funeral when Wayne’s cancer entered its terminal stage. Still numb from my father’s sudden death, I managed to secure the services of a live-in attendant to help me care for Wayne at home. That Monday I felt that everything was under control and returned to work; but I was at work for only an hour when the attendant phoned me to return home immediately. The trip took 45 minutes in the freeway traffic, and when I arrived, Wayne was dead. He was about the same age I am now, an unfinished life.

The world has changed so much in those twelve years. Wayne died before the O.J. Simpson verdict, 9/11, and the Afghanistan and Iraq wars. Very few people had cell phones then, or had heard of iPods or digital cameras. I have also moved on, so that my life is now at a better place than I ever could have imagined at the time. Reflecting on Wayne’s death reminds me not to take life for granted, or to expect that life-changing events won’t happen again, but to count my blessings and enjoy each day that I am given on this earth.

Tuesday, June 5, 2007

Clean Sweep: Too Much Stuff, Part 2

One of my first projects after retirement has been to do a clean sweep of my house, that is, to get rid of all the junk and then reorganize everything to be neat and accessible. It is a daunting task.

I spent a couple of days stuffing several garbage bags full of shredded bank statements, paid bills, cancelled checks, and old receipts, all dating back to the late 1990’s. That left enough room in the top drawer of the file cabinet to put away all the papers that were piling up on the coffee table. I could do even more with the file cabinet, but have moved on for now. Shredding is hard work.

I also managed to organize the entertainment center in the living room by trashing piles of old magazines and cassette tapes. I haven’t played any of the cassettes in years, and considering that I now have a large library of CDs and an iPod, I never will. The cassettes took up a lot of needed space and will not be missed. The magazines were a little more difficult to part with, however. I often hold onto a magazine if I particularly liked an article or photo in that issue. But then, I never go back and look at it again, and the “favorite” issues continue to pile up over the years. I now have room for more books because the magazines are gone.

The mystery junk in the bedroom was the next to go. Mystery junk is all that stuff you didn’t know what to do with when you got it, but couldn’t quite bring yourself to throw away at the time. It also includes stuff that was useful once upon a time, but you can’t figure out why you still keep it around now. I had mystery junk in boxes on top of the dresser, as well as in one dresser drawer. It’s not too difficult to identify mystery junk, and even less difficult to part with it. My dresser top looks amazingly neat now. Even my husband managed to part with some of his mystery junk when one of his dresser drawers got so full that a piece of junk fell out the back, lodged into the runners, and caused the drawer to become stuck. After forcing the drawer open, he filled a trash bag full of mystery junk. The drawer now opens easily and he admits that it felt good to get rid of the stuff.

Finally, as a symbol of my departure from the corporate world, I gathered up all of the award certificates, pins, company publications, plaques, manuals, personnel files, and commemorative toys that seemed to be everywhere in the house and packed them away in a special box that now sits in the storage shed, a large chunk of my life now neatly packed away and part of “the Past.”

The clean sweep isn’t finished yet, but it’s on hold. I need a long break before tacking that kitchen. . . .

Sunday, June 3, 2007

Too Much Stuff

In a world where so many people don’t have the basics for survival, we in this country are drowning in too much: too much information; too much food; too many things; too much waste. We can hardly keep up with the tidal wave of information we’re bombarded with on television, newspapers, the internet, email, and junk mail stuffed into our mailboxes. We go to a restaurant and are served a heaping platter of food that could feed a third world family for a week. Whole industries have been built around helping us organize and store all of the things we’re accumulating. And many of us constantly struggle with how to get rid of all the stuff we no longer need that seems to spill out of every drawer, box, and cupboard.

There are two types of people: those who love accumulating stuff and those who want to get rid of it. Being the second type, I spent several years clearing all of the junk out of my small house and garage, only to acquire a new husband of the first type. He brought with him carloads of stuff that we had to figure out what to do with. We ended up buying several new pieces of furniture to contain his clothing (over 100 logo T-shirts and Hawaiian shirts) and his collections of American Indian and farm artifacts, crystal, ceramic and resin figurines of all sorts, model cars and airplanes, souvenir magnets and drinking glasses, framed family photographs, lamps, plaques, clocks. At Christmas time, we also must make room for an extensive (and growing) display of holiday decorations stored in the garage. It has become my challenge to keep finding things to get rid of in order to make room for any new stuff he comes home with.

I suppose I could claim the higher moral ground by declaring that I place less importance on material things. But in reality, I can’t. My husband’s prized possessions are valued because they remind him of beloved people in his life, special events, places, and precious memories. I tend instead to rely on journals and photo albums to tell the story of my own life, with only a few special objects to supplement the memories. We all have our own ways of remembering our lives and telling our stories.