I’m not exactly letting go of this puzzle of the Sistine Chapel, but I’ve decided not to frame it.
Instead, I am hoping to pass it on to someone reading this blog. The
bagged pieces and accompanying print are ready to go.
Just give me a call or an
email and it’s yours to enjoy, and then, to pass on (or frame).
Wednesday, October 31, 2012
Tuesday, October 30, 2012
Today we reviewed our finances, or rather, I got another lesson on the subject. My idea is to keep only current bills and statements, whereas my husband likes to save. I have to defer to him on this one; it’s his field of expertise. However, I was delighted that he was willing to let go of a file folder of utility bills dating back to before the year 2000.
On the other hand, it occurred to me that if we keep them just a little longer, maybe a member of the Ephemera Society of America will want them. Both my husband and I continue to be haunted by those comics of our youth that got tossed away.
Monday, October 29, 2012
We certainly don’t need two of these; in fact, even one is almost obsolete. My address book is on my phone and computer; if I need a commercial telephone number I go immediately to google and there it is. When my car needs a tune-up, the number for Patriot Automotive Service appears in less than twenty seconds.
However, my mother’s file box of addresses and telephone numbers is another story. It is a sweet, sweet snapshot into her life with my dad, beginning soon after they were married. On file cards, Mom recorded marriages, births and deaths (and sometimes jobs) of everyone they knew over almost fifty years of marriage. If they sent a Christmas card (and they sent many), she wrote the number of the year, and when they received a card back, she circled the number.
Over the years Mom culled the box, removing the cards of those she had lost contact with. Most likely they were people who hadn’t kept up, or who had died, for you see, my mom would never have been the one to cut off a relationship.
Of course she never threw any cards away. When the wooden file box got too full, she bought another one. Toward the end of her life, when sending Christmas cards became too daunting a task, some of the file cards ended up in a plastic bag. That was when she was 98. She decided that it was okay not to send cards any more. It was one of her ways of letting go.
I’m thinking that this winter I will go through the box, remembering, reminiscing and learning. But I’ll never let go of one single card. In due time, I’ll pass the boxes and bags down to my daughter, who, like her grandmother, loves the U.S. Postal System.
Sunday, October 28, 2012
Another relapse. Never my fault, of course. I came home from stocking up on groceries in preparation for the upcoming storm, only to find this in the kitchen.
“What?” you ask.
Well, so did I, to which my husband replied. “I just couldn’t resist it. Maybe we can hang it on the wall. Perhaps we know someone who has a horse.”
Next I’m invited into the dining room to try out a make-shift ping pong table. Fair game. The grandkids are coming today. And besides, all of this gets me laughing, which is usually a good thing. “Don’t be so serious, Bobs,” I tell myself.