it is hard to imagine, but my dad has lived in the same exact spot for 36 years. his blue/green house on the hill is a fixture in the neighborhood but even more a fixture in his life. and mine. i love gilmer drive and i love that house so it is with more than a tinge of sadness that i watched him pack up his stuff and head for a new spot and a fresh start.
i had the pleasure of going over and helping him assess his belongings this past week, what to pack, what to trash, what to give away. moving sucks at any point, but after 36 years of accumulation, the task can be plain old daunting. it is so much easier to be objective about other people's stuff than your own. what to chuck vs. what to keep seemed pretty obvious to me, but then again, i hadn't developed the personality and the stories behind these objects over the course of my adult life. it is difficult to see the meaning in a stapler until you realize it was the one that sat on your very first real desk. you get my drift.
since this was the house of my childhood, i had many funny moments opening drawers and finding odds and ends and treasures from my past. in the bathroom that was once shared by me and my sister i found our very first "lady gilette" electric razor that my mom bought for us in our tweens when she didn't think we could handle the umph of a true razor. the entire thing is maroon and has a huge cord that is not detachable! i found 20 year old stray bottles of ultra swim shampoo left from my swim team days and vidal sasson "cream rinse", the only conditioner other than Aussie Mega allowed in the 80s shower, I'm pretty sure. i found my mom's bright blue plastic sewing box, still kept on the top shelf of the old closet and still full of seam rippers and denim iron on patches. i saw the first cds i remember my parents buying ( the Beatles Rubber Soul and Bob Marley Legend) as well as copies of recorded off tv onto blank VHS tapes of Max Duggan Returns, Princess Bride, Goonies, and Ghostbusters...the flicks I was raised on and could probably still recite verbatim.
it was a trip down memory lane and it truly was fun. i think i've been in such a mode of thinking of material possessions, STUFF, in a dreadful light: as a pain in the ass, a debter's prison, and just generally something with a bad connotation. and i think if acquiring things is what defines and stresses you then it probably deserves those monikers. but seeing all these relics of my past, sentimental and full of meaning, i felt so grateful that my dad isn't more of a purger, happy that i had the chance to revisit one more time my awkward adolescence, my parent's divorce, and to say goodbye to my childhood in a very official and cathartic way.
i guess the lesson in all this for me is that though i really don't want to accumulate for the sake of accumulating, perhaps there is a reason to hold on to that favorite stuffed animals your 5 year old isn't really playing with anymore, or to resist the urge to purge the tattered copy of williams carlos williams poetry that reminds you of your freshman year of college. perhaps treated right and protected, maybe stuff has the ability to develop and ripen, just like a fine wine; keep it in your cellar and then when you are ready and relaxed, sit back and enjoy the taste and the perfume of memory.
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"Oh, my sweet Wesley! What have I done!" (Princess Bride). I have spent many nights in that basement watching those classics and could probably quote them all verbatim as well. I feel so fortunate to have had Gilmer Drive in my life as one of my childhood playgrounds. I still remember the smell, Allison's miniature collection, and our pretend pet snakes. It was the sight of many hours of "summer school" with Amy as our teacher. We made a retro aerobics video, featuring "high, medium, low" levels and sweat bands. Did we really try to sell it? Thank you for the memory of a magical childhood. I hope our children find enchanted forests in ordinary backyards, as we did. I wish for them a "dirt hill" of their own...
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