Friday, March 11, 2011

I'd leave it all behind except...

 My family, my pets and my crappy, ratty, flannel over-sized sweater jacket thing.

Let me explain...

Just this morning as I was searching for an alternative for my daily cup of coffee which I've given up for Lent (only three days into the season and I'm already bitching about and threatening to break my sacrifice), I knock my head into the kitchen cabinet (which as far as I know has not moved in five years), and whining what a rotten day lies before me when I open my lap top and read about about the 8.9 Earthquake and Tsunami in Japan.

As I continued to watch the devastation, the reporter interviewed a man in Hawaii who was evacuating his home for the inevitable tsunami to hit his area in the next several hours.  He was so calm.  So accepting.  In a little while, everything he has will be swept away in a wave.  He was discussing this with Anderson Cooper as if he were sharing a cup of latte on his back porch (I really need to stop obsessing about coffee).  Anderson sounded more upset than this man did.  And then it hit me - this guy has it all figured out.  He knows what's important to him.  No stress.  No running about shoving everything from his house into his car.

Of course my family and my pets would be the first in the truck.  I would already be wearing my last item and that would be my crappy, ratty, flannel over-sized sweater jacket thing.  You see, for me it's never been about stuff.  So I would be done relatively quick too and I could enjoy a nice cup of umm...tea or something.  I've always wanted to chat with Anderson Cooper.

Yes, I suppose important paperwork would be nice but in all honesty, I'm not as organized as people make me out to be.  I'd be found dead, floating around in my basement with a confused look on my face. The last thought on my mind would be, "Really? Now that I'm dead, why did I need to find my Birth Certificate?"

Photos Albums?  I never take good pictures anyway and for the life (or death) of me I can't remember who half those people are sitting next to me (Mom, do not give me your 65 photo albums, please!).

The rest of it, chachka.  Trinkets.  Things you can't take with you when you die so why take it with you when your house is going down?  I don't want it.  Besides, it'll only sell for ten cents on the dollar at a yard sale anyway.  Yard sales are way too much work for that kind of return on your investment.

New England 1997

My crappy, ratty, flannel over-sized sweater jacket thing. It took me to New England and kept me warm along trails dotted with Autumn leaves. I hid in it at work, sipping coffee (damn it!), with cubicle lights low helping me through the tedium of office work.  It held me the night my father died and many nights later as I cried in its sleeves and rocked me to sleep.  It still comforts me when I'm sick and gives me inspiration when I write.  It's my bathrobe and also defines me as the neighborhood character. 

Now, how could I possibly leave this nasty thing behind?


Brenda said...

You said chachka. I love when you speak Yiddish. ;)

What you say is true. What does it all boil down to in the end? Your favorite this and that and your family. I was in a flood once, a friend just put a couple of pictures of me in it on FB actually. I could go back in once, but what would I get? It had to be something I could carry. My dog was already safe at a friend's house. I swam back in, among the rats and dirt and who knows what else. I grabbed a small laundry basket and in it I put a few articles of clothing and my Brownie Bear. Once I got back out of it, I looked in my basket and realized that of all of things in my house, this is what I chose. No pictures, no papers, no collectibles. My teddy bear. That bear has a history, as does your sweater jacket thing. It's good to know that we have them.

Bri Potts said...

That's the truth of it. The memory behind it and the way you feel when you hold it or wear it, that's what's important. Not the things, the trinkets (the chachka LOL!) Hangin' with my girl lately ;)