Sunday, August 25, 2013
The Language of Stubbornly Refusing to Let Go
For Christmas 1968, when I was 14, I asked for a bookcase.
I seriously thought it over beforehand. Never had I asked for anything practical, or non-toy, or non-fashion, or unrelated to any pop boy band .... or anything non-fun. I wondered if I would regret using up a Christmas wish on an empty piece of furniture. But I kept wanting it, so I took a deep breath and asked for a bookcase.
This is it. It still exists.
But as early as the next house, 1972, it moved to the basement where it held jars of home-canned jelly, and where it apparently attained some damage from seepage through the wall. I'm not sure where it was after that, but it stayed with my parents as a utility shelf as they moved again, and was in the basement next door ten years ago. But I do NOT think it was in there through Hurricane Hugo. Hugo would have submerged it up to at least 3 feet in muddy salt water, and the damage looks too superficial for that. It must have been upstairs.
Beats me. But I asked for it, back when we moved into this house 10 years ago, and until today, it took the same role, sitting in our basement getting dirty and holding useful whatevers.
I see furniture in this kind of grubby condition in the bulk waste bins at the Recycle Center all the time. But that always bothers me. Yeah, it's not so pretty but sheesh, it still works! It's real, solid, wood, not veneered particle board. We're talkin' 1968, here.
OK, it needs some repair before it will hold much of a load. It's disquieting to admit that something I got new is now "old wood" but it has dried and the shelves are pulling in. The corroded back corner makes it a little unstable. It will still free-stand but a gentle push tips it. That's OK, it will go against a wall anyway.
I can't give it up. Giving things up is something I am not good at. I keep remembering how I loved it, and I did. I never for a moment regretted getting a book case for Christmas and adored filling it with cool finds.
So I've just given it one heck of a scrubbing, and Larry, who knows how, says we can get those shelves more secure.
I choose to consider myself thrifty and able to appreciate function over cosmetics. That's much nicer than admitting I absolutely hate to let go of anything.