Journey through my past thirty years–in ‘things’

….via two large boxes from home.

She warned me.  My mother sent an email after shipping off two boxes of  things she ‘would have scrapbooked but obviously won’t get to,” — the next logical conclusion was that I would want all of these ‘things.’

First of all, kudos to Mom for clutter-clearing!  Especially these ‘things’: papers of all kinds. These ‘things’ are usually the fire fodder kept in damp boxes and only opened when people consider what to do with them; too often they just get re-boxed, and perhaps labeled in a different way.

Box #1:  my first twenty years: report cards, reports, essays, My Sacrament of the Eucharist workbook, the letters my godparents wrote so they could become my godparents, pictures of people I never care to see again, programs of old plays—really, quite a load of ‘things’ that I narrowed down to one little pile to keep.  Mostly of baby things and my high school yearbook.

The interesting bits from box #1: how my godfather feels about religion (in that letter to prove he was worthy of being my godparent), the interim reports that said I would have a better grade if I did my homework or showed up for quizzes (then showed an A- average), the very conspicuously missing picture in my Eucharist workbook when they asked for a drawing of me talking to God, but the most interesting thing had to do with my high school yearbook.

I KNOW where most people are now.  It’s impossible not to; I know about my high school  acquaintance’s kids through facebook; I know their professions through LinkedIn; I know their dirty secrets through myspace and their utterly dreary thoughts through Twitter.

Even stranger, the closer I was to someone in my high school years (with one exception), the less I knew about them.  People for whom I occupied my house’s ONE phone line (remember those days) for hours–well, we weren’t even friends on facebook!  How can that be?

Perhaps for the same reason why I threw out their love notes and prom pictures without a thought.

Lesson learned from Box #1: It’s OK to block more people’s status updates on my news feeds and thank Lord I haven’t spoken to some others in years.

Now on to Box #2:

Papers.  A tour through my twenties via play programs.  Most I tossed without a thought.  I did appreciate the care with which my mother had stored them.  But they just felt like weight dragging me down–old ideas, old mild successes and some pretty large failures, lots of pieces with great memories but the work itself only served to push me into a different place artistically.  Or discover a place which I didn’t care to explore again.   Which is why they all went into the trash.

Things I kept from Box #2: a baby picture, my actual birth certificate and the program from a Macbeth production I had JUST spoken of two weeks ago.

Clutter-clearing Tip from this Experience: ALWAYS clear your clutter on trash nights.  Have the trash cans already out on the curb, if possible.  Then there’s no turning back and it’s much more of a clean slate.

And if you DO miss that dear friend to whom you haven’t spoken in years, just search for them on facebook.

My mother taught me……..

In honor of my mother’s birthday (go, Leos!), I am listing many things I believe she taught me.  There is no way to make this list all-encompassing.  I simply want to show my appreciation.  Here goes!

My mother taught me………..

1. I am beautiful.

2. If you’re going to do something, you really should do it as well as you can.  It’s not really worth doing otherwise.

3. Directing a play starts with making it an arts and crafts project (if you’ve ever seen my index cards, then you’ll understand this!)

4. If you say something behind someone’s back, be prepared to say it to their face.  Don’t back down about it, either – they probably need to hear it.

5. When you need to re-organize yourself or feel out of control, buy a new planner or a new bag.  Take the time to really clean out the old planner/bag and make the new one work the way you need it to work for this next stage of life.  Amazing how satisfying it will be.

6. Friends are important, but sometimes there are friends to let go.

7. Everyone needs their “time”: sometimes you should throw a party just to celebrate someone’s life.

8. Give gifts that people might actually enjoy.

9. When you like an author, immediately read everything they ever wrote.  Very satisfying.

10. Alone time. It’s important.

You can't see me, but I'm there!

11. Lions are beautiful.

12. Sometimes you just want to sit back and watch a week’s worth of General Hospital.

13. Gift shops are the best part of museums.  You want to take a piece of art home with you.

14. Sisters are special.

15. Psychic bonds exist.

16. You don’t always have to understand your spouse, but you should always appreciate them.

17. Sometimes you just need a good haircut.

18. A good story is invaluable.

19. If you feel like you need to go outside and take a walk before reacting to something, you should do it.

20. If you feel like you need a hug, you should go for it.

21. Questioning faith just means you are thinking about it. Don’t be afraid of it — the questioning or the faith.

22. Obstacles just mean you have to get more creative.

23. Follow through on promises.

24. Don’t be afraid of what you write.  However it comes out is how it was meant.

25. When friends you have let go come back into your life, accept them and hold no grudges.

I’m sure there is more, but you get the idea.   My mother gave me the courage to follow what I believed and the encouragement even when she did not understand.
Happy Birthday!  Sorry I can’t be there.

Your Daughter

Locking the door during the lesson

I just finished a grant.  But that’s not what this post is about.

The grant made me think about 1999, when I traveled through Romania, Bulgaria and Croatia to study theater.

To say it changed my life is the epitomy of minimization.

But I was really thinking about this woman on the plane.  Direct lift from my diary:

Wed., 5/26 (continued)

I’m on the plane now and sitting in between two of the most interesting people I’ve ever met.  The gentleman to my right is a native Argentinain, though he claims that Buenos Aires is the most European of all the Americas — North, Central & South.  He started learning languages at the age of four, and now knows five.  He teaches at a university in Germany (I think) and is disgusted that when he enters the amphitheatre (his word) that the students do not say “Good morning” back to him.  The three of us got into a heated discussion about how you really cannot blame the children today for their actions.  When the only examples they have of life come from music, TV, video games, etc., where else can they turn to?  He said that they need a family, and gangs provide that sense of family.

The woman–goodness, I don’t even know her name–and I have been chatting for a good portion of the three hours of the flight so far.  She is from Germany originally, but has spent forty-one years in the U.S.  Her father was a German colonel, and the only way she could rebel was to marry an American GI.  But he charmed her father, so it didn’t end up being much of a rebellion.  She had a self-professed American fetish.  When she learned English in school, her teacher hated her work, because she snuck in listening to American radio.  So when she was called on in her English class, she would use American slang.  Now her teacher was an Oxford graduate and he would get sooooo angry that she was slandering the English language.  The other children loved it, and egged her on.  But the teacher couldn’t give her a bad grade, because she did know her English.

So she married this GI who was quite a charmer–which led to their eventual divorce, actually [from me in 2009: Ah, the hindsight, if only I had paid attention] and he was stationed in Florida, then Mississippi.  Man, oh man, did she hate that place.  Besides the constants bugs and gators, what she really despised was the blatant racism.  She would be walking down the street, and a white man was in front of her, also walking.  An 80 year-old woman coming the other way, who was black, had to get off the sidewalk and walk in the street.  She would apparently go home raving.  They only lived in Mississippi from January until June, when they were then stationed in Illinois (two hours outside of Chicago), her husband would joke that he had to get her out of there because she wouldn’t keep her mouth shut.

Then she said that the US had just held the Nuremberg Trials at this time.  All she could think was: take care of your own problems.

When she talked about how important it was to vote, she discussed how Hitler got into power because no educated person took him seriously.  She believes (as do many) that Hitler fed off the cultural discontent started by Versailles.

Many people have asked her how could you (the German people) have “let the Holocaust happen?  Didn’t she know what was going on?” And she had to say no.  “You Americans, born and raised,” she said, “don’t understand what it’s like to live under a dictator.  As many problems as it has, democracy is still the best government around.  But dictators….well, no, we had no idea what was happening.  We didn’t know what was going on until bombs started to drop.  And I don’t know why they only talk about the Jews who were killed.  Anyone who spoke up–priests, men, anybody — were hung from the nearest tree.  And that’s when the people started realizing how many trainloads of people were being taken away.  And then I was eleven years-old when the war was over.  Our teachers were ordered to teach the children collective guilt.  We were all, every single German alive, responsible for what happened.”

When I asked her how they could teach that, she answered, “That’s what they were told to teach [I assume as part of the terms of ending WWII] : collective guilt.  One of my history teachers, though–he would lock the door during his lessons and explain in more detail.”

I raise my glass to teachers never having to lock the door–to the flawed but great democracy in which we live.

Except it’s really a republic, not a democracy.

But I suppose that’s a blog post for another day.

A good adage for Clutter Clearing – Day 2

One very tricky thing about clearing shared clutter is that sometimes you don’t know how attached your partner is to different items.

For instance:

I have gone through three phases of streamlining my comic books, and it was down to about twenty.  Once I confirmed with my guru of all-things-comic Corey Blake that no one would pay more than $1 for mediocre Wonder Woman, or the women of Chaos Comics – poorly written but beautifully drawn, or The Maxx – which defies description, I sat down to say goodbye.

I read a few of them.  They were entertaining but I remembered most of the plots.  That’s what comes of re-reading twenty sheets over and over and over again over thirty years.

Except I haven’t touched them in at least ten, except to decide whether or not to keep them.

So I have decided to take my husband’s outlook.  When texting him to ask whether he wanted his Theatre History Lecture Notes, he said: “Overall, if you have to ask, the answer is no.”

So, as much as I love Evil Ernie, Lady Death or Johnny the Homicidal Maniac, the only comic book that made me pause was Lenore.  And so “Lenore: noogies” shall stay in my library.

If only for the ‘little bunny foo foo” story.

clutter-clearing question of the day

If I thought I had thrown something away that used to be very dear to me, and I didn’t feel badly about it then, should I feel badly about throwing it out now that I have the choice?

There should be a clutter-clearing buddy system.