Reactions to the "plan" were interesting. Basically, the reactions were polar opposites. At one end of the spectrum were the folks who said, WOW! That sounds terrific. I wish I could do that. The other end of the spectrum were more tactful. What they really wanted to say was No Way! Not for me. Are you crazy? What that end of the spectrum actually said was, "But what about your house?" "You mean you won't have a home base?" or "Oh, I couldn't give up my stuff."
Stuff. That is the crucial issue. Everyone (even the big time nesters) wanted to go see new places.........but, give up your "stuff" to do it? Even the most enthusiastic supporters of the vagabond idea began to waffle when I quizzed them about their furniture, their dishes, their china, crystal, pictures, and knickknacks and what they would discard. "Oh, I didn't think about that." "You're only taking 6 feet by 10 feet of stuff? That's not very much, is it?" No, it's not very much. I'm going to find out if it's adequate, or if I feel deprived or just uneasy without the visible signs of my life around me.
I have been continually amazed at the hidden stuff that's popped up when we got serious about the idea of vagabonding. Now, Drake and I aren't packrats by anyone's definition. I have always prided myself on cleaning out all the drawers and closets every 12 months. The St. Paul Garage Sale has been a big incentive in that direction, but truthfully, I was raised to keep things not only clean but orderly. You can't be orderly if you can't close the drawer or closet door or if you have to resort to stacking boxes in your garage instead of parking your car in it. (Sound familiar to anyone?) That lifestyle was totally unacceptable when I was growing up. If you couldn't neatly store it, then out it went.
Drake is even less of a packrat than I am. He moved roughly every 18 months throughout his childhood. The four years we spent at the University of Oklahoma was the longest he's ever lived in one place, and he got a new dorm room/apartment every year he lived there. When you have that childhood experience, you learn not to get too attached to things - especially heavy things. Another reason for Drake's lack of interest in possessions is that his childhood pattern was for his Dad to leave and go on to the new job in the new town leaving Drake and his mother to cope with the move. As he got older, Drake was the "muscle" doing the shifting and carrying required.
Basically, he and I have always been pretty much on the same page although I will admit to more of an attachment to sentimental possessions. Point in case: Drake sold his turntable and all his rock and roll albums - some of which he's had since the early 1970's. It didn't even phase him. There's the difference between us, when he finds his hidden stuff - he gets rid of it or sells it. Me, on the other hand....
I really thought that I was totally on top of the "possession thing". Then we went up to the attic, and we re-discovered the suitcases packed with toddler toys and Barbie detritus. I admit that I didn't throw them out - but I did cull them. (FYI: Dead, blond Barbies sell like hotcakes at garage sales.) I found Uncle Wiggly at the top of the game closet. I guess that's telling in itself - I have a "game" closet. A double top shelf filled with board games, puzzles, binoculars, dominoes, and playing cards. We drastically reduced those items realizing we don't need 10 decks of playing cards or 10 puzzles, most of which I had already worked. Hidden stuff.
I found boxes and boxes of greeting cards. Yep. That's where that sentimental attachment comes in. I have greeting cards that have been given/sent to me for the past 40 years. My first greeting cards are from 1969. What I'm really proudest of is that they are all dated on the back. What I'm not proud of is that they are totally useless. I organized them by year, and they covered by dining room table from top to bottom. It was interesting to see that we repeated some cards - liked them so well we bought them more than once. They are COMPLETELY WORTHLESS. I couldn't throw them away. Don't ask me. It's irrational. It must be the same knee jerk reaction packrats have about EVERYTHING. It makes no sense - and I can't even fall back on the old chestnut: "But I might need these someday."
Another group of my hidden, well, actually not so hidden stuff are my pictures. When you enter my house, the pictures in frames are everywhere. Now, obviously, I can't take them with me, and I really don't want to store them in the frames. Then I have the negatives and the hard copy photos. And, I not only have mine, but I have my mother's and Drake's Grandmother's pictures. It's a huge job. My next job, in fact. I'm going to have to take my hard hearted pills the day I begin to figure out what to do. Right now the plan is "scanner". I think if I can scan everything into a computer, then I can be ruthless with the hard copies - especially the 4x6 photos from my mother - she believed if one picture was good, then 5 more must be better. I've spent a great deal of time standing/sitting/posing for flash pictures while my mother said, "just one more."
And my rocks. Do I get to take them? (Probably not - too much weight.) Am I going to store them? Does anyone really need 50 pounds of pebbles? Yes........I do. They are momentoes of vacations. I have rocks from all over the United States. I even like to play with my rocks and create rock sculptures. Yes, you don't have to tell me - bizarro, but cherished.
When you take into account the greeting cards, the photos and the rocks, Drake starts to roll his eyes. He just doesn't know how lucky he is. I could save string and tin foil, oh, and cottage cheese cartons.
