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November 30, 2005
history 
I had a click this morning. Not that it's probably a terribly useful realization, but...
Sara is visiting her parents and talks about the stuff she does there that she doesn't do at home, and she asked also what her readers do. I wrote a response which filled me with sad longing.
I remember loving visiting my dad's parents. The expectations there were different than on my mom's side of the family. My grandparents seemed very fond of me, but they didn't expect me to just hang out, speaking when spoken to. I absolutely loved going through their stuff.
Part of it was the exoticness of it. I maybe saw them once a year, and at most, for a couple hours. They lived in the country (even when they lived in town)—they had hunting dogs which lived in kennels, because dogs don't come in the house. Their house was full of old things that they loved.
I remember being fascinated by the perfume that my grandma kept on her bedroom dresser—it had some name that would seem very cheesy now, but it was exotic and wonderful. I loved poking around in the garage at all the tools and bibs and bobs of my grandpa's domain. And then there was the basement!
The basement had lost of stuff. Old magazines, photos, a guest bed, and old trunks. I loved this stuff. It was clear that they had come on a journey: from France to Quebec, from Quebec to Michigan. Everything seemed imbued with meaning.
It's only recently that I've realized that some of my mom's stuff is also imbued with meaning. Her style is very middle-america clean and clear and spare. It probably helps that she is one person in a house that is almost twice the size of mine, and with much much more storage, that she doesn't have a job, and that she feels compelled to clean.
Anyways, I wonder if that explains some of my clutter, as stuff reflecting me and my darling. Not that everything is imbued with meaning—I just have a clutter problem. Yeah, okay. So that's that.
The other thing that came out of my thinking about Sara's post is that I don't agitate very hard for what I'd like to do when I'm at Mom's. It's easier, though not more enjoyable, certainly, to go with her flow. What I'd like to do: more exercise (ice skating, walking, cycling [could we rent bikes?]), more riding around in the car around town and through the little towns nearby, more history. Like, wouldn't it be interesting to see significant place's in Mom's life? I know, well, several of them.
I tried to get her mother talking about her past before she died. I thought she wouldn't like it, but of course she did. To my great sadness, I didn't take notes or tape our conversations, and now that knowledge is lost.
Suddenly, it is quite clear to me that I want and need to make those kinds of connections to the past and present, to root me, and that I haven't done that with family. Since I really only have Mom left, I should snap to it. I feel frustrated with my relationship with Mom, I love her, but I don't feel like it's a real relationship. But it occurs to me that I am not being genuine with her.
This is hard. I was taught to keep my mouth shut and I tend to, with the grand and huge exception of here. And even here is heavily censored.
...
You know the movie Office Space? I love the premise of it, of a guy hyponotized and thereafter, he has to tell the truth. Well, okay, the premise is a little off from that (but not a lot, really). But I wonder what my life was like if I had less control over my tongue?
...
Monday I was so good. Yesterday, I was all about the rain. Today I still ache—gosh, who knew I had all those stomach muscles, and that they could get so pissed off. I'm gonna try to sneak in some exercise, though I feel like everything in my life is conspiring against it.
Posted at November 30, 2005
Comments
What a great post, VJ. Thank you for sharing. Makes me think of what it was like visiting my grandparents. And great reflection on Office Space too. Maybe I'll keep an "office space diary" in which I have to respond truthfully, at least to myself. Hrmm.
Posted by: Liz at November 30, 2005 5:35 PM
I know, its basically just my mom left now. Sometimes that makes me feel adrift, like I need more roots than I have. Making them is difficult, but doable. take care.
Posted by: neca at December 1, 2005 5:27 AM
After such an interesting and touching post, I have a stupid and mundane comment: Do you mean the movie Liar Liar? Because I don't understand the Office Space reference.
(http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0119528/?fr=c2l0ZT1kZnx0dD0xfGZiPXV8cG49MHxrdz0xfHE9bGlhciBsaWFyfGZ0PTF8bXg9MjB8bG09NTAwfGNvPTF8aHRtbD0xfG5tPTE_;fc=1;ft=111;fm=1)
Posted by: Marla at December 2, 2005 5:53 AM