Among Other Things

           Jaime was looking for something in the shed.  She pulled out all the Christmas decorations and then some.  Are you kidding me?  It seems like Richard and I just cleaned the shed.  I remember throwing away a bunch of garbage and now we’re doing it again.

          I have always been a nostalgic person and have hung onto things.  Items I’ve had since I was twelve!  I thought one day I could pass on my “treasures” Make family history more exciting for whoever.  There is so much I have saved through the years.  Jaime’s stuff, my stuff.

          She doesn’t want it.  I guess I don’t blame her.  I don’t want it either.  Not anymore.  If we were to move again I would be leaving 90% of this behind.  So why not just get rid of it now.  Who else would want a box full of journals – at least 12 volumes of Jaime’s life prior to birth until just after our move to Oregon.  I think she was twelve when I stopped writing for her and let her figure it out on her own.

          She’s not nostalgic.  Our oldest saves things like I do – saves in boxes but never looks at his stuff.  Always misplaced.  Always taking up space.  My second son is also nostalgic.  He saves stuff unnessesarily.  And then there’s our youngest boy who has always been able to throw stuff away.  Doesn’t save anything.  Not at all sentimental.  There were a few times I envied that.  Not to have an attachment.

          Piles and piles and boxes and now a lot of empty bins and still more to go through.  Richard wants to make a trip to the dumpster.  I would like to put everything in a rented dumpster and have them haul it all away.  And I mean all of it.  There are items that could go to a second hand store.  Too many items.  Most in good condition.  Some just fair.  And some – well I certainly don’t want it.  I can’t see that someone else was.

          The hardest thing has been throwing away the photographs – which I have saved digitally.  Some on CD.  Most on flash drives.  But those may become obsolete as well.  And then what?  I’m at the point where it just doesn’t seem to matter anymore.  No pictures, no journals, no scrapbooking, no memorabilia.  Enough of the clutter.

          Jaime wants to have a yard sale with a lock box and slot.  Pay whatever you’re willing or just haul it off.  We don’t need it.  We don’t want it.  We don’t have room – not that we ever did.  Why are we saving it?

          I remember one sister in our ward who had one son and boxes full of family history.  She wanted him to carry on the family legacy after she passed.  He doesn’t have the passion.  He didn’t want her boxes of “treasures” and Jaime doesn’t want mine.  Or hers.  It’s just stuff.  We’ll be fine without it.  My youngest boy would have no problem discarding it all.

More From the Shed

                Richard had decided to buy me a 12 X 12 scrapbook with extra pages as I had enjoyed scrapbooking. This purchase was made at the time when we still lived in West Valley.  8 ½ by 11 always seemed more practical for me though I had made up four or five 12 X 12 scrapbook albums when I was single.  After I had married I had made a couple of pathetic attempts of scrapbooking in order to preserve the memories of my new instant family – but I had given that up after Jaime was born.  I didn’t have the room I needed.

         Before we had even moved to West Valley Richard had given me a CD set to download to the computer. The program allowed me create scrapbook pages on the computer. No longer would I have to spread out photos and lay them out for placement and seek for stickers or die cuts to go with whatever themes.  I could see benefits for both. The pages I print from the computer don’t have raised borders or the third dimension sometimes offered by a hand created scrapbook. 

         I kept all my scrapbooking supplies in the event that I ever returned to pre-computer.  When Richard presented me with the 12X12 I decided to go through some accumulated photos (such as our trip to Disneyland) and create pages.  I asked Jaime to assist.  She made one page.  That was her contribution.  She does not love scrapbooking.  Not her thing.   

  I had started four or five pages.  STARTED.  I had placed pictures on the12X12.  I don’t know what year I had tackled that feat – if it was the year before my mom was put into assisted living, the year before we moved here or when.  Apparently I had packed up my scrapbook pages and supplies and even the new scrapbook album which Richard had purchased.  I didn't even realize that I had had it when we lived in West Valley but the receipt indicates that is where we lived. It sat in our Oregon shed(s) – eight years it lay untouched.  Honestly I had forgotten that they existed – until quite recently when Jaime and I were finally able to tackle both sheds and reorganize and dispose.

I had the 12X12 scrapbook in the yardsale.  It remained untouched.  Then I decided I would put some of the photos (particularly the cut ones – see here) in a scrapbook and send it to Ryan.  After I printed his name off the computer and inserted it along with his photo I found alphabetized stickers in the front cover – where they will remain because I don’t know how to get them out.  There are instructions for inserting the extra pages.  Evidently the spine needs to be broken and reset.  What the hey??!!! 

Anyway I have decided to get rid of the extra papers, stickers, die cuts, stencils and whatever else I happened to collect.  I took a picture of some samples and posted them on facebook.  I had a taker within five minutes.  Excited about the claim.

My Custom Heirloom Walking Stick

      Jenna and I first met Chris just over a year and a half ago.  We met him at Millsite Park.  Jenna and I had been walking around and Chris was looking for the perfect stick as he had a request for making a cane similar to his (see this post)

      I thought that would be nice to have a custom-made cane for myself, and thought I would start collecting words that might describe me and ask him how much he charged.  Chris said he walked in Millsite all of the time.  That was the only time that I saw him.  I don't even know his last name. 

      When Roland was playing Friar Tuck in Hi, Ho, Robin Hood, he had stripped one of our wild junipers to make a walking stick for the character.  I decided that when he was through with it, I would adjust it to my own needs.  I would strip the wood, sand the stick and start a decoupage.  I decided to use more photos than words. Instead of multi colors, I hoped to keep them in the same color as the wood.  It didn't turn out as I expected, but there you have it: 

My custom heirloom walking stick:

stripping down the bark

printing pages full of words and pictures

Before My Mind Forgets

I was looking for some photo pages the last week.  As I was searching, I came across a scrapbook that Jenna and I created together – or started to anyway.

A neighbor who had three daughters of her own had actually given the album to us.  I don’t know if it was something she intended to fill up eventually and life just got in the way, or if she just really wasn’t interested in that kind of thing – or why it had been in her possession in the first place.

I don’t even know how old the album is.  There is a copyright from Lansdowne Publishing.  It was first published in 1997 than in 1998.  The book itself is written and compiled by Deborah Nixon.  Designed and Photographed by Robyn Latimer.  Beautifully illustrated and very thoughtful.  It’s called  Mother’s Memories For my Daughter.

  I let Jenna pick out all the pictures that she wanted to use.  As I'd written down my memories into the book, she would cut out pictures and paste them in.  We had fun doing it – and I think it will be a great treasure for her one day – providing that she can actually read it.

When my mind is working faster than my pen, I tend to get sloppy.  The fact that cursive isn’t really taught in our public schools anymore has made it even more challenging.  Jenna can’t read cursive.

There have been several papers and stories that she has written on – sloppy print and misspells.  I have scanned many and have a picture in her original hand and a translation.  I figured I could do the same for mine.  And so I’ve started.  Barely.  Started.  My mind has raced with almost every page I’ve scanned.  There’s much more detail in my head than what’s been written.  I have been writing down memories, typing them, searching for more photos – which I know exist – but I cannot find them.  More searches.  More memories.  My fingers cannot keep up with my mind.

  

Corey has tackled the project of transcribing mom’s journal.  I am so excited for it.  I’m sure that it will take me longer to read than for him to copy it all. 

He shares certain memoirs every now and then.  It is fun to see them on facebook and remember when.  I love my mom.  I have great respect for her.  She was such an awesome woman!  And just so giving and compassionate.  I wish I were more like her.

The memories I have been writing down are about my grandparents and great-grandparents and then I started to write down what I know about Roland’s mom and then I asked him to change the things that I misunderstood and to add his own memories.  He wrote things about his dad.  I’m glad that he did, because I did not know him.  I was in high school when he died – just over twenty years before I had even met Roland.

As I’m typing or writing, I can think of more things.  I add thoughts, insert paragraphs, forever cut and paste.  I will easily fill up several flash drives.  That is where I am.  My blog is on the back burner – for a while anyway.