Me in my room in 1972. I had a fishing net hanging from the ceiling. It changed the whole mood of the room. The bed is a double that was my Dad's. That was our first bed. I took it with me when we got married and moved. It was already 30 years old when we got it.
When I was a kid, my Mom would get mad at me about twice a month, and then send me to my room to clean it from top to bottom. I couldn't come out, of course, until it was all clean. I didn't figure out until a few years after that she got mad at me so that I would clean the room, not because I did anything wrong.
I would go in there all upset and angry, and then dig into it. I would go through every drawer, every nook and cranny in the place and throw out whatever no longer interested me.
Some things, I would keep because my parents gave them to me. Or, they would have other value, such as, I liked them or used them on a regular basis.
I learned how to clean things out without throwing it all out and ruining my life. I also felt better after it was finished because it was now clean. I would dust and vacuum along with trashing things.
My room was my home and I was proud of how I kept it looking good.
I would also rearrange my furniture when I could. It was tough because sometimes I had a very small room. In our second home, I had two beds. They were twin beds and I always slept on the same one. I could never feel comfortable sleeping in the other one, even though they were the same. I didn't have much room to move things around.
My parents never came into my room to check on things, or if they did, I never knew. The room was always the way I left it.
When we got married, I expected things to be the same for us as it was just for me. I expected things to be put away, and everything to be clean and neat.
Boy, that was a rude awakening.
Right after we got married, we had nothing. I had to get a job and I worked a very physical job, so I was tired when I came home. My wife was going to school at first, and then she went to work. So neither of us had time to do much as far as doing a super clean job on the place.
I remember tearing things apart and cleaning them. Donna pitched in also and soon we had the place as clean as we could make it.
Donna was going for her checkup because she was having trouble breathing. The doctor couldn't figure out what was wrong, and I got the opinion that he really didn't know what he was doing. So, I called a hospital in Philadelphia where my Mom died. They had taken good care of her there, but she was too far gone and they couldn't do anything for her. I thought they could do something for Donna.
They couldn't. It's a long story for another day, but after I did hours and hours of research in the library (before computers) about her condition, I determined they couldn't do anything for her in Philadelphia, so we actually snuck her out of there so she could come back home. I also pretended to be a medical records transporter and "stole" all of her medical records, x-rays, and blood test results.
We took all of this to her family doctor, and he was able to determine that she was really OK for now and that made us feel much better.
Donna had this problem recur over the years, and it wasn't until just recently that we learned it was a form of radiation burns to her lungs, and pleural space that was causing fluid to accumulate in her pleural cavity, affecting her breathing.
Just after I got her home, I went through this very strong feeling of loss. It was the first time in my life that I realized that we no longer had our parents to depend on. My Mother had died, and my Father remarried. He and his wife moved out of our home in Levittown and into an apartment. If I ever wanted to go back home again, I couldn't. It was no longer there.
This hit me very hard. I had no idea what was wrong, but I couldn't function. I didn't know what depression was back then. I didn't know anything back then.
Donna thought it was our relationship, and probably thought about leaving, but she stayed and supported me. I eventually came out of it, but I can still feel the desolation of that time.
I had accumulated a lot of junk back then that I didn't need anymore. I got out of the depression by going through my stuff and getting rid of most of it. I had some collections of things, and I really didn't get any pleasure from it anymore, so I got rid of it.
I couldn't convince Donna to get rid of her junk too, and we carried it with us through 7 moves. This is the stuff I am getting rid of still.
I just took 4 suitcases out to throw away. They were in the attic crawl space. I thought they might be used for equipment storage, but they were coated with the goo of time and I decided it was time to throw them out.
I found a file box loaded with cancelled checks from her parents up there too. I had thought that I got rid of them before, but I think they just grow back. They are so old that I might not even shred them. There are about 30 rolls of wrapping paper still up there that I will probably leave alone. I also believe there are two more suitcases, but they will stay too for now.
I piled about 12 boxes outside for trash along with the suitcases.
I am gathering up stuff the regular trash won't take. I have a friend who will pick that stuff up to take to the waste authority directly. I'll have to pay extra, but at least it will be gone.
Over the years, we collected lots of things in the anticipation of becoming financially successful. Then, we could buy our large dream home and have shelves full of nick nacks, antiques, and great things to look at. It never happened. We just continued to collect things, storing them in boxes.
I have an entire box of plaques from Donna's company. She received these awards every year for doing something or other, and they just kept giving her these plaques. Along with all the driving awards I received, they got stored. He plaques are just blocks of wood now, with a bit of lacquer and decoupage. My awards are paper suitable for framing. I also have a ton of little lapel pins. They fill up the drawer in my night stand.
Donna' plaques were too numerous for me to hang up anywhere in the house. I did try one time to put them on the basement wall, but that was kind of silly. The walls weren't painted then, and putting nails in the brick/cinder block just wasn't a good idea.
My father in law also had a pile of plaques and awards that were framed. They were stored in a box on the floor in the darkroom, so he they had no value to him either.
It feels good for me to touch these things. They had no value to Donna, but they are a part of her accomplishments, and I feel that. I was thinking of taking them to the attic and using them on the floor over the insulation to help keep the house a bit warmer this winter. I wonder what new owners would think if they saw that?
Donna's essence is still here. I can still feel her in the house. But, she is fading and soon will be gone. She died in a nursing home in Harrisburg, not here in the house, but both of her parents died here and they still haunt the place.
My stuff is getting ready to be packed up and sent to a storage facility. I will go out next week and get prices. I will then box everything I don't use and transport them to that facility. The house will then go up for sale. When people come to see it, there will be very little here that will give it our personality.
I remember the series of emotions involved with moving. I experienced them every time we moved. This will be the first time I go through it alone and it worries me. But I will survive. I go through the dread, the fear, and the excitement of moving to a new place. I go through the overwhelming feeling when I look at the amount of stuff I just can't live without.
I look at all the wires connected here. I look at the daunting task of cleaning a new place. I look at getting there and knowing that I don't have everything I need to live and have to go out and buy something.
I also think about employment. My job doesn't pay enough for me to live very well. So, I will have to compromise and lower my standards.
I hope my new place is secure. I hope it is quiet. I hope the heat and AC are comfortable. I hope the place isn't a dump.
Let's see what happens next.....
I would go in there all upset and angry, and then dig into it. I would go through every drawer, every nook and cranny in the place and throw out whatever no longer interested me.
Some things, I would keep because my parents gave them to me. Or, they would have other value, such as, I liked them or used them on a regular basis.
I learned how to clean things out without throwing it all out and ruining my life. I also felt better after it was finished because it was now clean. I would dust and vacuum along with trashing things.
My room was my home and I was proud of how I kept it looking good.
I would also rearrange my furniture when I could. It was tough because sometimes I had a very small room. In our second home, I had two beds. They were twin beds and I always slept on the same one. I could never feel comfortable sleeping in the other one, even though they were the same. I didn't have much room to move things around.
My parents never came into my room to check on things, or if they did, I never knew. The room was always the way I left it.
When we got married, I expected things to be the same for us as it was just for me. I expected things to be put away, and everything to be clean and neat.
Boy, that was a rude awakening.
Right after we got married, we had nothing. I had to get a job and I worked a very physical job, so I was tired when I came home. My wife was going to school at first, and then she went to work. So neither of us had time to do much as far as doing a super clean job on the place.
I remember tearing things apart and cleaning them. Donna pitched in also and soon we had the place as clean as we could make it.
Donna was going for her checkup because she was having trouble breathing. The doctor couldn't figure out what was wrong, and I got the opinion that he really didn't know what he was doing. So, I called a hospital in Philadelphia where my Mom died. They had taken good care of her there, but she was too far gone and they couldn't do anything for her. I thought they could do something for Donna.
They couldn't. It's a long story for another day, but after I did hours and hours of research in the library (before computers) about her condition, I determined they couldn't do anything for her in Philadelphia, so we actually snuck her out of there so she could come back home. I also pretended to be a medical records transporter and "stole" all of her medical records, x-rays, and blood test results.
We took all of this to her family doctor, and he was able to determine that she was really OK for now and that made us feel much better.
Donna had this problem recur over the years, and it wasn't until just recently that we learned it was a form of radiation burns to her lungs, and pleural space that was causing fluid to accumulate in her pleural cavity, affecting her breathing.
Just after I got her home, I went through this very strong feeling of loss. It was the first time in my life that I realized that we no longer had our parents to depend on. My Mother had died, and my Father remarried. He and his wife moved out of our home in Levittown and into an apartment. If I ever wanted to go back home again, I couldn't. It was no longer there.
This hit me very hard. I had no idea what was wrong, but I couldn't function. I didn't know what depression was back then. I didn't know anything back then.
Donna thought it was our relationship, and probably thought about leaving, but she stayed and supported me. I eventually came out of it, but I can still feel the desolation of that time.
I had accumulated a lot of junk back then that I didn't need anymore. I got out of the depression by going through my stuff and getting rid of most of it. I had some collections of things, and I really didn't get any pleasure from it anymore, so I got rid of it.
I couldn't convince Donna to get rid of her junk too, and we carried it with us through 7 moves. This is the stuff I am getting rid of still.
I just took 4 suitcases out to throw away. They were in the attic crawl space. I thought they might be used for equipment storage, but they were coated with the goo of time and I decided it was time to throw them out.
I found a file box loaded with cancelled checks from her parents up there too. I had thought that I got rid of them before, but I think they just grow back. They are so old that I might not even shred them. There are about 30 rolls of wrapping paper still up there that I will probably leave alone. I also believe there are two more suitcases, but they will stay too for now.
I piled about 12 boxes outside for trash along with the suitcases.
I am gathering up stuff the regular trash won't take. I have a friend who will pick that stuff up to take to the waste authority directly. I'll have to pay extra, but at least it will be gone.
Over the years, we collected lots of things in the anticipation of becoming financially successful. Then, we could buy our large dream home and have shelves full of nick nacks, antiques, and great things to look at. It never happened. We just continued to collect things, storing them in boxes.
I have an entire box of plaques from Donna's company. She received these awards every year for doing something or other, and they just kept giving her these plaques. Along with all the driving awards I received, they got stored. He plaques are just blocks of wood now, with a bit of lacquer and decoupage. My awards are paper suitable for framing. I also have a ton of little lapel pins. They fill up the drawer in my night stand.
Donna' plaques were too numerous for me to hang up anywhere in the house. I did try one time to put them on the basement wall, but that was kind of silly. The walls weren't painted then, and putting nails in the brick/cinder block just wasn't a good idea.
My father in law also had a pile of plaques and awards that were framed. They were stored in a box on the floor in the darkroom, so he they had no value to him either.
It feels good for me to touch these things. They had no value to Donna, but they are a part of her accomplishments, and I feel that. I was thinking of taking them to the attic and using them on the floor over the insulation to help keep the house a bit warmer this winter. I wonder what new owners would think if they saw that?
Donna's essence is still here. I can still feel her in the house. But, she is fading and soon will be gone. She died in a nursing home in Harrisburg, not here in the house, but both of her parents died here and they still haunt the place.
My stuff is getting ready to be packed up and sent to a storage facility. I will go out next week and get prices. I will then box everything I don't use and transport them to that facility. The house will then go up for sale. When people come to see it, there will be very little here that will give it our personality.
I remember the series of emotions involved with moving. I experienced them every time we moved. This will be the first time I go through it alone and it worries me. But I will survive. I go through the dread, the fear, and the excitement of moving to a new place. I go through the overwhelming feeling when I look at the amount of stuff I just can't live without.
I look at all the wires connected here. I look at the daunting task of cleaning a new place. I look at getting there and knowing that I don't have everything I need to live and have to go out and buy something.
I also think about employment. My job doesn't pay enough for me to live very well. So, I will have to compromise and lower my standards.
I hope my new place is secure. I hope it is quiet. I hope the heat and AC are comfortable. I hope the place isn't a dump.
Let's see what happens next.....
