IN MY OPINION

Paul and his wife arrived at my house early on a Saturday morning prepared to repair the barrel paper box, the front deck and a couple birdhouses. 

House 2008. Deck holds old fashioned pump fountain and birdhouses. Barrel Paper box to the right of the gate.

After we walked around viewing the needed repairs, Julie said, “In my opinion….”

Not everyone is comfortable voicing their opinion to others—especially when it involves tearing down instead of repairing. But Julie’s opinion carried weight—lots of weight. I walked to the paper box—a cute little barrel with a roof husband put together years ago.

  

“You know I don’t use this anymore.” I pushed on the cute paper box and the whole thing fell over. The base had rotted—yes, the rest is good, but the roof needed repairs. Why not demolish.

It didn’t take long to remove the Old Fashioned Pump. Years before my mom bought it for husband’s birthday. The pump has Beatrice NE printed on it. Husband was born there so of course he wanted the pump. He thought himself super funny when he said, “I just love old things, that’s why Mook is still with me.”

Yes, he tagged me Mook years before. We grew old together like the aged pump out front. When I suffered with vision problems and needed to rest my eyes, husband turned the red pump into a fountain. Soothing sounds to my weary soul—but a few years back something happened to the electrical mechanism and now the once beautiful red treasure just sits peeling paint. 

The deck came down faster than removing the pump. Paul used a sledge hammer, Julie and I packed pieces to the pile out front.  The more Paul took apart, the more I could see we made the right decision. 

 Now what will happen to what once served as a cute deck that held a wonderful old-fashioned pump husband turned into a fountain? I put a FREE sign on the wood, some of it is quite usable—but no takers yet.

Today's photo, Oct 2013, shows the naked house.

No deck.

No birdhouses.

No old fashioned pump.

But then none of it was here when we bought the house nineteen years ago.

And God says to all downsizers:

Don’t panic. I’m with you. 

    There’s no need to fear for I’m your God.
I’ll give you strength. I’ll help you.
    I’ll hold you steady, keep a firm grip on you.  

Isaiah 41:10 (msg)

SHARE TREASURES WITH OTHERS

Opened my email this morning—found a note from my friend Shirley.

You have been heavily on my mind the last few weeks....I wondered why. Now I know. Downsizing must be the most dreaded geriatric malady next to shingles. Recently I have peeked into overflowing closets, extracted a coat hanger and said "enough for today."

Florida was our 9th move. The other 8 were less traumatic because I packed everything with me. 

Twenty-two years ago I left my treasures in an Iowa ditch. Up to that time Early American everything had been my life.  My consolation the neighbor, watching from her upstairs window, swooped in to forage things the moment we drove out of sight.

The same thing will happen when we leave Florida except I will not be angry. I am accustomed to seeing personal contents from other people's lives stacked on the curb by angry faced adult children. (Shirley has worked as a caregiver for ten years or more. Most of her clients are elderly or infirmed. She has seen many die.)

On the upside, our daughters-in-law will send their husbands. Those three will pitch and make baskets with my K-mart vases and their baby pictures. In anticipation, I am going to draw some beards and moustaches on the latter just to let them know that once again old mom is one step ahead of them. 

clothes closet from freedigital photos

Don’t you love Shirley, even if you don’t know her, the wisdom and humor she stuffs in a short email are priceless—a good reminder—I need to forge through photos this week or maybe copy them into the computer for future reference. 

Me? Procrastinat-Never

There is a sign hanging on my office wall, “I have not yet begun to procrastinate? To those visiting my home now and then, they might think I’m well organized and neat. But if they lived here a bit, they’d know better. I can put off a lot of stuff.

Years ago, before the steam iron, I’d gather the laundry from the clothes line and sprinkle those that needed ironing. I found out if you left those damp garments in a basket too long they mildewed. It didn’t take me long to figure out if you sprinkled, rolled and placed them in the refrigerator, they didn’t mildew and you could almost forget the need to iron.

Is that procrastination? And if it is, what does it have to do with downsizing?

Like sticking damp laundry in the refrigerator until tomorrow, I’ve attempted several times to clean out a drawer or closet this past weekt—I end up moving ‘stuff’ from one place to another—haven’t disposed of one thing yet.

In the process I found a treasure of my Grandma Dee’s. It hung on her wall from the time I gave it to her—about Christmas 1951—until died in March 1985. Some grandparents would be embarrassed by the simple gift written by a ten-year-old, but not my grandma. She loved me and my effort to create something just for her.

Over the years the glass in the frame broke. Grandma improvised with what looks like waxed paper. The hook on the back came off. Someone glued another one in its place.

In her later years, Grandma labeled all her belongings. When her heirlooms were divided up, I received my gift from thirty-five years before. It’s never hung on my wall, it’s been in the cedar chest? I had to keep it—well until now.

It’s only one thing going out the door, but that’s a great beginning for me—no procrastination here—took the photo, wrote the story and now it’s gone.

Wow, this downsizing is going to take a long, long time.

Five Downsizing Suggestions

Paddy ready to chase a squirrel 

When my Border Collie died I figured I needed to sell the house—after all, nothing tied me here. No husband and no Paddy dog. I met with Joyce my realtor friend. The next day grief slapped me in the face. Reality rained down my face. “Leave all my memories behind—once more?”

It isn’t the first time I’ve packed up to move. One week after the birth of our first child Husband moved us a  hundred miles away from family. Not fun—eighteen years-old with a new baby, no car and no phone. Yes, more than a few years ago.

I survived that move and ten more before we bought our present home. This is the longest I’ve lived in any of the homes. It’s also where husband invested his time and our money. He spent hours replacing ceilings, leveling floors and adding his texture/touch/paint to every wall in this house. To move means leaving all that behind.

Most people don’t let all their grief hang out for the world to see, but I’ve come to a place where I depend on my friends for support through times like this.

Last week when I sent out a “rather tear drenched” email, I received several suggestions on how to handle the necessary downsizing and preparation to move.

1.     Jami and Charlene said to take pictures. “Take your memories with you.”

2.     Deb said, “Give your prized possessions to people you know and care about.”

3.     Jan said, “This is a good thing. When you are done you’ll find a new freedom from those things.”

4.     Karla said, “You know Mom walked away from everything. It bothered me more than it did her when she gave everything in her house away.”

5.     Teresa said she’d talked with her husband and they were willing to store furniture husband made until our grandchildren might need or want them.

I’m thankful for friends and their wisdom. Now I’ve got to tackle the necessary—I’ll start tomorrow. 

This is husband reporting to work--I asked for his help more than once. He thought himself really cute. 

Let's face it, he was. 

He kept me laughing.