Abundance

Are you wondering where we are? Where I am?  It has been a long time since I posted though H wrote eloquently of what has consumed us. Actually, most of that is him. I am merely the little angel on the shoulder puttering along in his shadow.... Ok Ok stop laughing. Truth to tell, I too have been working hard, though not in as public a way. My work will receive less attention, but I am not complaining...exactly. I am closing down mom's house at the beach. Not for the winter but for good, or as best I can. You thought I was done when I finished the apartment in New York didn't you? Alas. I am sitting in the middle of the living room surrounded by... well, surrounded. I have taken milk crates of things to the street hoping that someone would find that poster of carousel horses compelling, or the glass hand juicer, or the coffee pot --oops, I dropped that putting into the glass recycling container. Or the pillows, or the teddy bears or the three bags of clothing - well, no. I stopped at t-shirt number 32  (that's the clean ones I was counting - not the ones with one coffee or rust stain). They are in bags to be taken to the Salvation Army or another non-profit on the mainland. To do that, I had to call the local contractors who have permits to drive on the beach and ask if they would do it. They agreed. I hope the bags don't end up in the ocean.

I am going to donate the 8 or so sets of sheets as well. All usable. All in need of a new home.And the fleece blankets in green and red.

I tried to donate the books to the local school library, but they can't take donations - of books or money. The last librarian was purging the collection and sent the books to be destroyed; they couldn't sell them. Something about taxes that are supposed to pay for services. Maybe the PTA would take them she said. Maybe they could store them in the library til the PTA has its big garage sale in the Spring. And there are two kids in Islip who are collecting books to give to charity. Maybe she can contact them for me. And she carries a tote bag on and off the island if that would be any help. (You know that line about the proverbial drop in the bucket?) So there is something about a librarian destroying books that sticks in the craw, know what I mean?

It has been an interesting if arduous process to examine what I value enough to keep it. There are small stacks of folding plywood architect-designed tables. They will be good end tables on the porch. There is the coffee table and chairs that came from Mom's office. They are useful, comfortable and will see many years of service once they are refinished with some sand paper and teak oil. There is a whale vertebra from an old boyfriend. There are blankets and linens that we don't need but that I appreciate because of the craft involved in making them. It is craft that has no value in today's world. Women's work you know. On the day when the chief of Citigroup resigned his $15 million  job, I m keeping some beautiful calendar pages that I will use as wrapping paper next Christmas, following in a friend's footsteps who wrapped our wedding present in calendar pages. It was beautiful (as was the teapot inside).  And I am keeping the whale windvane and a small corner cabinet that will sit on top of a chest of drawers somewhere.

But most of all, as I snuffle aimlessly through trash bags and refill other trash bags and am paralyzed with fear that I won't "get rid of it all", I am struck by the fact that I grew up with abundance. If my mother wanted three of everything to stave off her fear of being poor; if she lived with every light bulb lit in every room of the house; if my mother had more than 32 t-shirts at her summer place at the beach, the impact on me was one of abundance. And now I am dealing with the consequences of excess. I am watching a transition occurring in my heart. It is happening slowly and with some pain. I went to the little grocery and bought soup today, even though I had had some in the freezer. I wanted something different. Something that would make me feel that I had a choice. I am a product of abundance. I have always lived with many options - things to choose from. There are consequences to learning that abundance and choice can be a paralyzing place to live. And that sometimes, there is freedom in leaving it behind.

I am not there yet. I am getting better, knowing that someone who needs the t-shirts will wear them. I hate the idea of sending them to a landfill. I am getting better, knowing that someone will use those fleece blankets to stay warm. I am still worried about those books, but it is getting easier to put the cookbooks on the street...