1) There’s nothing like the potential of houseguests to goad domestic action. With a friend possibly staying here overnight at the end of the week, I knew I could put off no longer beginning Marie Kondo in the study/guest room. The day bed has been heaped with stuff for months, absolutely unwelcoming for company. I knew I had to take action today.
2) Mostly, that meant putting boxes of items Marie Kondo would class as “sentimental” back in the closet, photographs and letters and notebooks, etc. But I began by tossing out a lot of unnecessary papers and other trash, and setting aside a box of Items of Interest for another yard sale.
2a) Two of the more difficult items were framed photographs of my parents, Christmas gifts from years ago, their photos for the church directory. I love my parents (may they rest in peace) but . . . I have never really liked these photos of them. Mother was trying out different hairstyles in each that, ultimately, didn’t really suit her (which is why she chose to return to her classic look), and there are other pictures of Daddy that make him look livelier than these. But . . . they’re my parents, and these pictures are framed so nicely (even if one of them isn’t really to my taste). After a fraught moment I mustered up the courage to thank them both and put them gently into the trash. Still . . .
2b) In a less fraught vein, I went through a large scrapbook that must have come from Arthur Friedman (may he rest in peace), full of 8x10 glossies and magazine covers of movie and Broadway performers. There were about half a dozen from Death in Venice starring Dirk Bogarde, but the scraps were not organized with any rhyme or reason. I retained (as carefully as possible) several of the glossies; some of them might be considered collector’s items on ye Ybay.
2b.i) I met Arthur in 1988 or 1989 through my grad school roommate Tom. Arthur, while irascible, could also be very endearing, and he was very generous to me in invitations to the theatre. He taught me, among other things, that when you’re sitting in the front row at a theatre you must never turn your attention away from the stage, even to look at the program. When one is young, there is so much to learn . . .
2c) I also read through a letter Mother wrote me on November 24, 1985, on red paper that she said she wouldn’t buy again because it was too dark. Aside from news of her cousins and clippings about Edwin Edwards’s latest trial, she wrote about attending the funeral of Elnora, who had been Granny’s maid (and Aunt Kate’s, and cousin Audrey’s) all through my childhood. Elnora was so tall I remember, with catseye glasses and a noticeable mustache — very interesting to a young boy who had never seen a lady with a mustache before. And a very good cook, of course! I kept the letter, but tossed the clippings.
3) Late in the day, during the tea hour, I did a tarot reading for the first time in the long time, and the most enduring message that came from it was this (quoted from Biddy Tarot): “. . . you might be keeping yourself busy with small tasks, but struggling to make progress towards your bigger goals. [emphasis mine] It is time to take a step back and assess whether you are indeed focused on the right things, or if you need to shift your focus to bring your activities back in alignment with your broader goals.” Frankly, I couldn’t agree more.
