Category Archives: Personal Life

The Big Clear Part Deux

I knew it would come and, with my dear E no longer little, it came with a vengeance. She has moved onto another chapter and the Vietnam Veterans, along with others, will benefit yet again. Without prodding, box after box came in from the garage and went out empty. She culled with such determination, I was both proud and panicky. Some items added to the pile tugged on my heartstrings but I stopped myself from pulling things off. The temptation to say “Awww” was overwhelming sometimes but this was strictly her deal and, if she could say thank you and goodbye, I needed to stay strong. Well, mostly. A couple of things have found their way to the cedar chest. But only a few special things she may see in photos years from now and wish she had kept. A belated surprise just from me to her.

This drive to clear puts me into gear to mine my contacts for new dads and grandmas. I feel I have a direct line to a few because over the last 6 months, I have collected money at work for several new babies. It makes me feel like Santa. With the nod from my good friend, E’s Disney fairy godmother through the years, I sold the two 3-foot Mickey and Minnie dolls to a friend who was on her way to her grandson’s birthday party. He was turning 1 year old and loved Mickey. She would be the winner that day. Many of these things can fetch money but it’s not worth the hassle. It’s much more fun giving things away. However, selling those two meant money in E’s bank account as she moves forward.

I gave away Pooh and friends to a 3-year-old who just became a sibling, three little boys got Buzz Lightyear and more (I am still hunting for Woody. I found his hat but so far, he hasn’t answered my calls), and Dumbo went to a little one who was still on the way. It’s all so much fun. I am still looking for that little girl who loves playing with baby dolls.

Throughout all this transition, my garage shrinks. I have a donation corner that is growing like weeds in a neglected garden, empty boxes to the ceiling, and, for a time, cartons of flooring took up a slice of valuable real estate. The floor was done last weekend so that has simply moved from one side to the other onto my empty box pile. As my previous postings have clearly shown, nothing in this house happens consecutively – everything happens at once.

The flurry is now a trickle so there is undoubtedly a part three and beyond in my future. Now it’s about breaking boxes and organizing the donation, adding extra kitchenware since the Veterans come in a little over two and a half weeks. I had already relocated Christmas decorations down from the loft to its own area so that won’t be an issue this year, thank goodness.

I look forward to one day soon opening my car door without it bouncing back on me. It’s the small wins that make me smile.

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Death of Debate

Isolation isn’t just about COVID. Isolation can be about being separated from people by more than a glass window.

I am a reader. I take more of a scholarly approach. I read everything. I read all media stories showing different interpretations on the same argument. I seek out differing opinions on a subject to see what everyone thinks. I try to look at all sides. And then I want to talk about it. That is until this last election.

I have found this way won’t work this time. Either I am for or against. Either I vote for love or I vote for hate. There is no discussion. My different perspectives are suspect, I am part of the problem because I see both sides. I always considered myself straddling the line between left and right. Now I am expected to pick a side or I am just the enemy and part of the problem.

My friends. My family. My co-workers. I respect their views but can’t relay my own. I have to stay silent because raising a differing read on an incident or person or subject is not allowed.

There is no longer discussion or debate. Either you are on one side or the other. And I don’t know how to function. My process is no longer welcome or tolerated. And it is incredibly isolating. I feel alone and the effect is polarizing. I found myself gravitating to media that gives me comfort and it’s something I have to fight in order to keep deep thought alive.

But it’s hard, it’s sad, it’s painful. And it is isolating.

Something to keep in mind.

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Books Equals Life

I am a bibliomaniac and I have passed the gene onto my daughter.

Nicholas A. Basbanes titled his tome about the passion A Gentle Madness. A fine name for an exquisite affliction.

We both have those books that are tired and worn, read many times over, and sitting in a special section of the bookshelf reserved for well loved books.

One prized gem is the first edition Man O’ War by Walter Farley, a gift from my parents at 10 years old when I knew I could talk them into keeping a horse out in the back. Living in town was not a deterrent, I being convinced it was all so possible. The hardcover sits with the Breyer horse from my dad in consolation that Christmas.

And the paperback of Nine Tomorrows by Issac Asimov in my possession since high school, its brittle pages restricting any further outings in my purse. A meeting with (and a sweet kiss from) the author just adds more color to our history together.

My girl has her own touchstones, books as much a part of her life as her threadbare Sammy. These are the boxes we carry from place to place. They are the first into the van, and the reason everyone must have a bookshelf in their first apartment. After that, they have become a piece of your soul.

I say someone needs to develop and perfect a new techie book vault. Filled with the precious cargo, I would aim a hand-held unit at it to shrink it to a small key in my hand, transporting it to be refreshed at a new location.

I am aware that we already have the ability to carry libraries on tablets and cell phones. Thank you, Kindle. I use the program all the time. But that’s just convenience so I don’t have to carry each of Ken Follett’s three pound Century Trilogy books around (and I can read on the sly.) I need the paper, the physical relic that can share reflected memories of my heart by just a touch, a look, a musty scent.

Hermione Granger placed an Undetectable Extension Charm on her purse during the Second Wizarding War. When I saw her pulling books out of that thing, I knew it needed to exist.

That’s what I want. Apple, let’s get on it. That and Star Trek’s Transporter. I’m so over flying.

Credit: https://harrypotter.fandom.com/wiki/Hermione_Granger%27s_beaded_handbag

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