1387
viewsThe Simple Life
By ReneeCK, Friday, October 8, 2010I love my mom- a lot. My sister and I fight over who loves her more. I say I have more time invested, but my sister quickly points out that I went away to college leaving a void to be filled. My mom is my mom; she’s getting older and more sentimental. Actually, come to think of it, she’s always been sentimental. Sentimental is the polite word for minimal hoarder. My mom is a child of a depression era woman. Once Kool Aid started giving away things for Kool Aid points. My sister wanted a stuffed animal that was 1000 Kool Aid points. Within 2 hours of learning how many points we needed to collect for the animal, sis and I had found the 1000 points in the labels and wrappings that my mom kept in the basement in case she ever had a rebate for something. I think that was the only time the quarter-basement blanket of yellowed paper and deteriorating cardboard ever paid off.
Every holiday, major or minor, mom sends packages to us. At Christmas she sends many packages many places, carefully noting the last day she can get them to the post office in order for before-Christmas arrival. When our package came last year, we unloaded the gifts under the tree and waited ‘til Christmas day to see what NiNi had sent from Michigan. When I unwrapped my gifts, this was among them…
Yea. Rah. A decorative pillow. I set it aside and took another swig of my Christmas morning mimosa.
When it came time to find new homes for our new things, I looked at the pillow again. This time the irony struck me.
SIMPLIFY it states boldly. Yet, the message is embroidered onto what is essentially a piece of clutter. Hang it from your doorknob and see how long before the rope snaps off. Watch it fall from the banister railing each time you grab your purse. Oh, and don’t forget to dust it. Suddenly this reminder to simplify has become an opponent of the very message it is trying to convey.
Mom is also a good church-involved Christian. She plays the secret pal games and delights in finding a bag with her name cryptically written on it. Many of those bags are still sitting, undisturbed, on the back ½ of mom’s dining room table, and buffet, and patio. She can tell you exactly what is in them and who her secret pal was the year she got the gift. Outside of that, the gift sits unused. As much as I enjoyed gift swaps, I stopped participating years ago. I figured the chances of me coming home with something I would treasure were much slimmer than me coming home with a strange, triangle shaped ceramic dish with shells painted on it. (True story. It’s the last thing I got in a gift swap.) I realized I could take the same $10 and get myself something I’d actually enjoy and it wouldn’t diminish the friendships of friends who would be involved in the gift swaps. Even better, my gift would always be met with pleasure instead of becoming the “Oh, it’s a strange, triangle shaped ceramic dish with shells painted on it” rock that no one else would want to trade for.
Perhaps I’m bitter. I’m the anti-mom. Maybe I’ve seen too many previews for the hoarder shows and am afraid they would find that pillow and laugh at its irony. I just beat them to the punch. I do enjoy my trinkets of sentiment, but I prefer ones which are passed down to us like the china cabinet we got from my husband’s grandma’s downsizing. It is circa 1900 and belonged to his great grandma.
I’ve kept the pillow around this long but the neighbors are having a garage sale next weekend. I am torn now between putting 50¢ on it, thus allowing someone else to “simplify” or to just toss it on our burn pile and remove it from the universe.
Tell you what. If you want it, if you can use it, it’s yours. First one to get me their address gets it. Or, if you want, there’s a strange, triangle shaped ceramic dish with shells painted on it to be had too.
Enjoy!
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