The passing of this man is a landmark in my life. From an early age, our house was filled with song, all kinds of songs and music. While others my age were listening to Elvis or the Rock invasion, I was (and still am) at heart a folk singing woman. I have watched and sang Pete Seeger’s songs as long as I can remember. I admired his playing the fretless banjo, his enthusiasm for the causes of peace and the environment. At concerts and in life, he knew we were better when we worked and sang together. I am richer to have “known” him.
The main themes in my life recently have been the understanding and letting go (or not) of attachments, mostly to things. Three years ago, I inherited the house my parents had lived in and loved for the last 35 years. It needed a lot of work, particularly dealing with water. If you dam water up it find another way to flow- emotions work the same way I think. Recently with the news in Sandy’s wake, we are well aware of what water can do!
I believe the house issues are in a stable state now but this exercise has showen me that taking care of the house and yard really is more than I can physically (and financially) support. I have loved this house and all the happy and trying times spent here. My parents loved it and the 1/2 acre yard. Dad had fabulous plantings of organic vegtables and beautiful flowers. His beds were never straight but a labryinth of circles and curves. I have noted before that I believe my Father’s approach to rolling with life was “When in doubt, turn the compost.” The rabbits now have a warren where his compost used to be. Ten years ago when he passed, his friends planted a Magnolia tree in his memory because he always wanted one. Now it towers high, producing those creamy white fragrant blossoms. How do I leave Dad’s tree? Mom and I put his ashes around it The reality of how little humans leave behind when they pass away- except stuff. Things my Mother treasured are of no real value or meaning to me- so do we continue to carry this stuff just because?
I have taken the path of sending the majority of belongings on to others through sale or donation. I have gotten to help some local charities I believe in which feels good. Like many of you I have seen my collection of books as friends that have been with me for years for reference or just seeing them reminds me of a lesson or event. My Father also collected books but his are cloth bond , old and fragile. Most I can’t sell for the price it would take to ship them. Again something treasured for years which has no tangible value. So far I have invited friends to come and take books that interest them – about 15 boxes gone so far. Books have been the hardest so far.
Getting the house ready to show is an odd experience because I removed all the personal pictures and nick-nacks that litter my life. It looks like my house but different. well folks ending for today. I am glad to blog again. I have not even had time to read blogs and I miss the snapshots of other lives from the blogosphere.
OK – the post has little to do with the 50 shades of grey book (which I haven’t read) but my last post was about blue eyes so I see a slight theme here. Useless knowledge from Google: At Pablo Picasso’s birth he did not breath and was declared dead. A short time later his cigar smoking uncle came to see the dead child and blew cigar smoke into his mouth. The child started breathing on his own. Although the literature says his blue period was about depression, I wonder about the influence or memory of anoxia -lack of oxygen which manifests as turning the person a blueish color. Just wondering.