Everything happens for a reason. A cultural commentary with a lotta rock-n-roll, semitism, and parenting. See our Etsy Shop! Buy HeadyBands, Hoodies and more at www.wholephamily.etsy.com
"Moons and dunes and ferris wheels." - Joni Mitchell
Here's a bunch of stuff I recently purged from my elementary school files.
From my first summer at camp, summer 1981. I loved this stationary so much!
This stationary is still blank. Nistar will use it this summer.
This was from a friend who had a boyfriend in 5th grade. I stopped getting letters from her after a while. Years later I found out my mother had intercepted. She saw that this might have been a bad influence.
More boyfriend talk but my mom didn't intercept Lauren's letters. I wonder why.
And from the school year around this time.
Looking back I know I was sheltered, innocent, and good-natured. I was scared of anything too sketchy and trouble-making. When I heard of public high school and that it was like a "jungle" where people forced you to do drugs, I was pretty scared. I am glad I was the way I was. I did ok in school and I had nice friends. I'm pretty happy about that.
I saved so many notes and papers from my childhood. Over the years I have been whittling them down. I keep thinking I should save them for my children and grandchildren. Um... Seriously, Rach?
Now that I have memorialized these items in perpetuity (or, for as long as Blogger exists) I feel sortof ok with trashing my stuff.
And even if these pages are deleted, I really don't think I benefited from saving all they stuff.
As is often the case when I purge of stuff I have zero use for, I feel lighter and freer. New energy can flow in. Speaking of which it is time to get to the gym and do some sun salutations. Namaste to the recycling guys for picking up all my extra paper this week!
They make everything look neat, tidy, and current.
But do they know of the Whole Phamily? Nope. In the land of nod it's the whole family. In the land of purge we are the Whole Phamily.
A few weeks ago I got rid of 10 bags of unnecessary stuff, and yet the stuff keeps coming. Aside from the fact that we might move later this year, I prefer to keep things minimal. I loathe when things pile up. I learned well from my mom get rid of stuff you don't use. I wish I could do better. I admire friends who really do live minimally. Less is more is powerful Extra stuff isn't good for one's feng shui (wow, now that's a blast from the past!)
A tip of the hat to my blog title post
Goodbye to the following:
I tried teaching Nistar how to make these classic barrettes from my childhood. Ixnay on that one.
This is a kippah Nistar made at camp. Nice effort. Stango wore it a few times. She agreed to get rid of it.
This is a wallhanging Nistar made for me. Complete with an original baby picture of me she cut! No, she didn't ask! Don't have the heart to throw away yet.
This silly hat was sitting in the boy's kippa box for years. It is now relegated to its proper spot: the dress up box. Which only gets used these days when we have preschoolers over.
The hat maker is some famous company. It is from my husband's youth. Note the old school handwriting inside the hat, identifying my DH as its rightful owner. As if other kids brought this type of thing to camp. I guess Stango was long-outside the box.
This isn't my house but our friend's where we recently visited. Love this minimal, clutter-free room. An
inspiration.
Totally inspired now to finally get rid of my high school and college papers. Over the years I have been whittling them down but it is finally the time to recycle it all. Considering I was a poor writer in college, there is zero reason to save that junk. Maybe I will keep one or two papers. That is it!
Many years ago I was terribly impressed upon reading about Winona Ryder's habit of collecting old copies of Catcher in the Rye that I decided I wanted to do the same. Of course I loved Holden Caulfield just as much as the next gal, but I never thought of the Winona's very clever idea of collecting them. Since I always had great respect for her work and style, this seemed like a great idea. Not that I didn't trust my memory, but of course I did my online research about this topic, and indeed she spoke a few years ago about how many of her old interviews referenced J.D. Salinger. My desire to collect them, though, ended up growing to a few other titles, as I grew to love Salinger dearly the more I read him. In the mid '00s when Stango and I lived in New Haven, the city where I birthed Concealed Light and the Wolfman, I would envision myself in the 1950s waiting on the train platform in New Haven, as was detailed in a different seminal Salinger book Franny and Zooey. Girl can dream.
Then reality struck: it wasn't so easy in the mid 90s to simply pick up used editions of Catcher in the Rye anywhere in the northeast. Sure I had the time as a single working woman, but visits to bookstores in Cambridge, Providence and New York City were all quickly visits in vain. Ithaca? Maybe. Toronto, Burlington and the Berkshires were better scouting sites.
my 2 paperbacks and a hard copy of Catcher in The Rye
Funny thing about the original reader of this book I purchased in a used book store probably in the Berkshires is that I knew David Barash! Nice guy. I think I told him once that I had his high school copy.
Do I care that there is fraying on the binding?
From my hardcopy of Catcher in the Rye: not a first edition but I imagine this was published for a book club or library edition. Still a pretty good find for minimal money: I could not afford to spend more than $15
So, the hardback isn't in great condition. I don't care!
Yesterday I performed the task that many Jewish moms time immemorial have done once their daughters have gone off to camp: cleaned out the room.
And I have conflicted feelings about it.
Because I should take the advice of my own mother and sit down with her to organize together.
But I just couldn't wait until August.
I had the time yesterday, so I started seizing the moment.
Let me clarify a few things. I wrote to my daughter, Concealed Light, who is happily enjoying her 2nd year at camp for the month of July, to inform her that I would be tidying up in her room. And that was just a reminder. I told her before she left for camp that I would be cleaning up. I haven't been able to get in there in recent months even simply to dust, as she insists on leaving her play-school set up with school supplies, dolls, and various other props on the floor, thereby preventing a thorough cleaning job. I would just be moving things aside and putting like together with like to get rid of all the dust bunnies.
But one thing led to another.
Can I admit here that I was cleaning and organizing in there for 4 hours on Sunday morning?
I got so entrenched that I missed Will Shortz's puzzle on NPR.
Oy!
And I couldn't just tidy up.
I was putting so much like together with like.
I discovered things she couldn't find and could use at camp.
And then came all the scraps, a dead insect, tiny piles of dried up flowers, bits of yarn.
Time to purge some of it.
Time to scrape off the stuck-on glue stains, markers, mounting tape.
And there was so much stuff, my gut wants to convince myself that she won't notice.
Here are some things I found (and left a bunch behind):
Full box of silly bandz (isn't that fad like 2 years too late?)
Shredded tissue paper
American Girl self-help spiral notebooks and teeny tiny notes
treasure boxes filled with beads, gems, stones, craftable items
Pony beads.
scraps of fabric.
unopened birthday gifts from last summer
Mini oragami fortune tellers.
Baby clothing she took out of storage (for her dolls).
She will notice.
True to my word, though, I didn't touch the dollhouse.
And, there you have my conflict: The desire to clean up, and the desire to respect her space and retain her trust. Just when you start assuming that I violated my daughter's privacy, I must tell you that I didn't go through every drawer. I replaced personal items after dusting the area underneath them. I am not the nosy mom. I am not the controlling mom. I am not the I wanna-be-best-friends-with-my-daughter-cooler-than-my-own-mother-though-I-love-love-love-my-own-mother mom.
Again, the conflict: I sortof have some of those qualities.
I hope to remind Concealed Light that she still has tons of stuff and I was only trying to help clear some space (why hold onto sealed-shut nail polish bottles?) and she'll continually get new stuff and there is still purging that needs to happen and let's do that together when you get back from camp.
I remind myself that Other Moms do this on a continuing basis.
Concealed Light is lucky that I don't typically ransack her room.
And remember, this wasn't a ransack.
This is a delicate once-over.
A once-over that generated 5 bags of garbage and 3 bags of paper recycling.
I discovered that Concealed Light is somewhat of a hoarder, but I realize that we have only gone through her stuff together once or twice, so I can't blame her for not learning the skills. It is my job to do this type of thing with her together, and I feel bad that I haven't been able to find the time yet to do this.
Uh oh, The Wolfman's Brother came in to the room in the afternoon and said, "Mama, it looks like we are moving because there is nothing on the floor."
Yes, it is important to retain the important stuff, but to quote the song "Theme From the Bottom" which is the title of this blog post:
Toss away stuff you don't need in the end, but keep what's important and know who's your friend
Here are some other things I found and/or accomplished:
That laptop that she said wasn't working? Cable was simply unplugged from side of laptop.
100% cotton nightgown purchased in a fancy boutique store stuck under her dresser drawer, covered in dust bunnies
Shira Goodman's* school supply box, filled with useless pencil stubs about 2 inches long
nail clipper she misplaced from last year at camp: It was buried in her overstuffed LeSportsac cosmetic bag.
Goo-goned a ton of marker stains of her vintage white formica furniture (translation: my childhood handmedown) and mounting tape my husband thought would be helpful to use to mount her reading lamp
shook out the Pottery Barn braided oval rug. Discovered a lot of dirt stains.
sharpened all of her colored pencils
threw away old markers
gathered all of her temporary tatoos and Indian "bindi" facial stickers, putting them in a care package to her at camp with instructions to share with her friends at camp.
*name changed to protect privacy
I realize a difference between me and Concealed Light is that she is way more creative than I ever was, and certainly more intelligent than me. My sister, Reba, also expressed a creative streak from a young age, and her room, too, was often in disarray. My own childhood room was relatively tidy and I regularly went through my stuff. I also didn't have as much stuff as C.L. There were not Dollar Stores, Five Below or Claire's where we could get fun stuff for cheap. I treasured my Hello Kitty items, but there was no purchasing knock-offs in Chinatown, so I only had a few very prized Sanrio products. Concealed Light, however, has access to so much more stuff. She has a small library compared to her friends, but way more books than I ever owned: My mom was a staunch library patron. My sister was always making projects, as is Concealed Light, but I wasn't as much of the creative type. I treasured my rug hook set that I worked on for years, leaving it always safely at the top of my closet in its plastic Woolworth shoebox. I had only one or two sketch pads, and prized my smelly markers and Marvy markers that I received from my Manhattan cousins who lived in Lincoln Towers for years. Concealed Light is constantly making her own books, writing stories, creating doll clothes: a real independent, original, creative spirit.
I hope one day if she ever reads this blog post she will say, "Mama, I could have expressed those same thoughts in a very concise manner where your blog readers didn't actually tune out after the 2nd paragraph." Let this entry serve as a reminder that we can all learn so much from our children. I know she will be a great writer one day. She already is great at expressing herself through the written word at the young age of 8. Her stories are funny, witty, and to the point. Me? I always said that I liked doing the research and could improve upon my writing skills. I am more of the ideas person. I have a lot of ideas.
With that I leave you the title of this blog entry.
And if you are so inclined to view the video in its 7 minute entirety, fully check out this incredible light show. I was at the Atlantic City show the day after (this was a 3 day Phish festival in June). Chris Kuroda, the band's 5th honorary member and talented light engineer, as they say in Phish parlance, "killed it."
