Still Clickin

I am not sure what being “old” means. Is there a special test you have to pass? Is a certificate issued? Does the white card from Medicare entitle you to claim the status? Who decides? We all know that to teenagers 30 is ancient. On whose authority is someone declared “old”, and what credentials do they possess?

I ask, because yesterday, I felt “old”. Every muscle ached, and every joint needed lubrication. I did not want to move.

I know that “attitude is everything” and that you personally decide each morning what kind of a day you are going to have, but I just wanted to roll over and go back to sleep. We are still unpacking after our move, and I had to reorganize the garage, move dozens of cartons, and relocate a number of furniture pieces. It took ten hours of work to achieve the goal, but once I finished, I knew I had overdone it.

In my fifties, I could have put in another day just like the first. Now in my seventies, the old body just doesn’t have that resilience. I hate to admit it. Like any certified geezer, I bridle at the “age” tag. I still want to feel that I am up to any challenge. But the old body is sending signals that it can not longer respond like it once did. Does that mean that I am old?

The answer might be, “Yes”, but I don’t think I will listen. I think I would rather ache and keep trying than to adopt the “old” tag. Staying active and engaged, even if the intensity wanes over time, is a far better choice than “resting”.

Three cheers for Peter Pan, who wouldn’t grow up! Let’s all endeavor to be engaged and engaging.

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A couple of weeks ago, I was bemused by an article in the Sunday NY Times about downsizing. What seemed bizarre was that the article was in the Jobs Section, and it was profiling a new group of workers, “downsizing specialists”. These people target their efforts at the ugly process of disposal. Effectively, they carry out the grunt work of your decisions, but the decision has to remain in your hands.

What seemed strange was that the act of downsizing was treated like an event. Nothing could be farther from the truth.

We are currently setting up a household that is half the size of the house where we raised our kids. We also have some additional items from other places. Now, we have to winnow this collection of all of the stuff that we or our kids will never use again. We have done this before, but never with the sense of finality we have today.

But this is a process, not an event. It may take six months or a year to ride the process out, but the process has its steps that should be respected. Specifically,

1. Find the downsized home that is workable for you. Err on the side of smaller square feet rather than larger.

2. Move everything you can to it. Now is the time to use those items that you were saving for special times. Your special time is now.

3. Place the items you will not actively require during the next six months into the garage or a second bedroom rather that in a storage locker. You do not want to be able to ignore these excess possessions; you want to be inconvenienced by them.

4. Segment these possessions into personal memories, family keepsakes, and those with some commercial value.

5. Attack the commercial value items first. Make a detailed list of all these items and share it with your children, relatives, friends, and neighbors. If none show any interest, list the larger items on Craig’s List and the smaller ones on eBay. Community garage sales and consignment shops can provide another outlet.

6. Keep at the commercial items until you clear them out. Some charities are kind enough to accept a wide variety of items, and you will use them at the end of the process to clear out the leftovers.

7. Once the commercial items have been addressed, you are finished with the easy part. Next come the family heirlooms. Now you have to struggle with the guilt of challenging the heirloom status. Does Uncle Vinny’s bowling trophy really qualify? If you don’t intend to put it on display, does it really qualify as a treasure? If these is another family member who would really treasure it, now may be the time to present them with this gift. There are some guilt issues here, but the process does make you focus on the few things that do really matter to you. The rest should loose their heirloom status and be discarded.

8. Items marked by personal memories, photos and small trinkets, should be kept till last. These are the items that remind you of the times when love touched your life. Typically, they don’t take a lot of space, but they do deserve a careful review during which they can be savored. During that review, you should resurrect some old items for display and make other more easily accessible. These items, and their stories, are what you should share with your loved ones during holidays and special events. The treasures are the memories themselves. The items have values because they ground them.

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This is going to be my last comment about moving, I promise.

I always told my dear wife that I had one move left in me, but this experience has shown that I may have been exaggerating. However, the big pieces are now complete, and most of the critical things are working. Note the word “most”.

My desk is in a good spot. I can even turn to look at the perch of our neighborhood eagle, as in bald. What I still can’t do is open the desk drawers. Somewhere, in some box, reside the keys for those drawers. They are certainly secure, but they might be more useful if I could open them.

Then comes the computer. I never thought when I switched our access for the Internet that I would also be switching from wireless to wired. When I did realize it, it did not seem like it should be anything major. After all, access is access. I didn’t mind the change to wired, but my computer has proven to be less flexible. Computers always seem to have an independent streak . . . especially when you need their cooperation.

So, the big pieces are in place, the kitchen is operational, the taxes are finished, and we have even entertained beloved guests. Now we only need to get a computer working, a network established, and a desk opened. I could also put up a shower rod if I only knew where my drill was packed.

Moving. It certainly is a humbling experience. And through the experience of new surroundings and the agonies of a move, we develop a new sense of self, striped of the trappings and the routine of former nests. It always makes us challenge ourselves in ways that we never anticipate. We reveal more of the mystery of ourselves to ourselves, and the discoveries can be rewarding.

After two and a half years of renting and looking, we have moved. And now we are rediscovering our former life as we open box, after box, after box. Despite the detailed inventory list of the items contained in each numbered box, I can’t remember what many of the descriptions refer to anymore. Each box always contains a surprise.

I wish one surprise would be the keys to my desk. At this point, I have searched the contents of more than twenty boxes to no avail. If we had resettled within six months, I’m certain I could remember where I packed them, but at this point I have no clue. I’m working on the “They will emerge” theory.

One delight to rediscover was an unboxed item, the molding from the door frame where we measured our growing children’s heights. The bottom was chewed by an over-eager Welsh terrier, but the rest remains intact. I’m sure it will bring yawns from my children, but my grandchildren will love it!

Some boxes also contain Star Wars characters and Barbie dolls. We have moved them across the breath of this country, from Narragansett Bay to Puget Sound, to adults whose interests have moved elsewhere, but the grandchildren will be intrigued, I hope.

Boxes also contain some things that should never have been moved. At the end of the madness called packing, it is much easier to pack than to make decisions. Now, we are faced with the folly of some of those choices.

In spite if all the human nonsense we uncover, it is a delight to finally find a nest on another shore. It is still unfamiliar, but all our children are here. We attend such magical events as pre-school graduation and Saturday morning soccer games. We would never be able to schedule cross country flights to participate in those occasions. Having been there, we know it was right to reduce our lives to boxes.

Now, what is in box number 87???