Your Custom Text Here
Several years ago, I was helping my mom clear out her garage, when I came across a box of toy soldiers. "Those belong to your brother," Mom said. "They've been in here for years."
I remembered my brother playing with them when we were kids, but that was a long time ago. We were all adults now, with families of our own. Surely he would never miss these items. After all, they'd been sitting at Mom's house forever.
Read moreI got into fly fishing this year. It was kind of an accident. Back in April, I had set aside a weekend to do a backpacking trip with a group from my gym, but the trip got cancelled due to lack of interest. Disappointed, and determined to use that weekend to do something else fun, I searched around on the internet and found an activity that caught my interest: a two-day fly fishing school in Wisconsin, run by a fishing store here in Chicago.
Turns out, the southwestern part of Wisconsin is a hot spot for trout fishing, with thousands of miles of beautiful trout streams.
I hadn't gone fishing since I was a kid. "I dunno, two full days of fishing might be way more than we're interested in, but we'll see how it goes," I remember saying to my husband. Six months later, we both now own fancy fly rods and reels, polarized sunglasses, waders, and a variety of accessories. We've fished in three states (Illinois, Wisconsin and Wyoming). We've caught actual fish, and have the "Hey, look at this fish I caught!" photos to prove it.
Did I mention I read whole books about fish and where they might likely be found in streams?
My first brown trout
Don't get me wrong, I'm mostly still a newb. There's so much to learn! There have been times I've gotten frustrated (like when I've gotten my line tangled or my fly stuck in a tree). But mostly I'm really excited about it.
So, what's so joyful about fishing? Well, for starters, it's something that my husband and I can enjoy together. It fits right in with our love of camping and the outdoors.
Fishing brings you closer to nature--to the fish, the insects and other critters they eat, the streams, the surroundings, the weather, the seasons.
Fishing is a skill. You learn by experience--and from other people. The hubs and I hired a guide to take us on a half-day fishing trip recently. He taught us so much & we had a blast.
Catching a fish is a thrill. There's this wild animal on the end of your line, all shiny eyes and sharp little teeth and beautiful colors, so alive. (So far, I've let most of my fish go. I've only eaten a few, with gratitude.)
Fishing is physically, mentally, and spiritually satisfying. It's all about being present in the moment, about focusing on what you're doing right now.
Fishing is an activity I hope to enjoy for the rest of my life.
What’s sparking joy for you lately?
You might not think of paper as the most sentimental of categories, but the papers in the storage space packed the biggest emotional whallop for Mom and me.
But after all, Dad didn't need these papers any more. Mom and I decided that he'd be okay with us letting them go. It doesn't change how much we love him, or how proud we are of his service as a state representative.
This August I visited my mom in Hawaii, where she lives (and where I spent my high school years). Of course we did the typical things we always do: go to the beach, walk the dog, and eat a lot of yummy "local grinds" (food, that is).
And then there was a non-typical, somewhat daunting vacation task: clearing out Mom's storage space.
Mom had been renting a 10 foot by 8 foot unit at a local self storage facility. She explained, "When your Dad's health began to decline, all this stuff was in the way. I just needed to get it all out of the house."
Dad had been gone seven years now, and Mom really wanted to clear the space out and be able to save the $244 monthly rental fee. But as a busy community organizer and activist, she hadn't been able to find the time. Every so often she would go to the space and tackle a few items, but most of the stuff remained. And she wasn't sure exactly what was in every one of those boxes and containers. After all, it had been a while.
We definitely needed to get the space cleared in one fell swoop, because I was only going to be there for a week. So we went over there and took stock of things.
The space contained three shelving units, each about 8 feet high. Each shelf was stacked with either plastic bins or cardboard boxes. As we began to pull boxes and bins down and investigate their contents, we found there were several categories of stuff.
First, there were household items such as clothing, decorations, books, and random knicknacks. These were mostly Mom's things, and she and I were able to divide them fairly quickly into "keep", "sell", "donate", and "discard" piles.
There were several boxes of games and miniatures that belonged to my brothers. We marked these as "keep", making a mental note to ask later if they still wanted them. There were also boxes of my brothers' high school and college notes. Mom and I felt confident putting these in the "discard" pile.
Then there were picture frames. Lots and lots of picture frames. Some contained photos, but many were new and still in their packaging. An avid photographer, Dad had always enjoyed framing enlargements of his favorite photos. Mom and I appreciated this, of course, as one of the many ways Dad showed us how much he loved us. But we also had to chuckle at how Dad's framing ambitions had turned out to be much greater than the available wall display space in my parents' modestly sized home.
The new picture frames went into our "sell" pile. We decided to remove all the framed photos and put them aside for later inclusion in a photo album, which takes up a lot less space. The reclaimed frames would be sold or donated.
Finally, there was the largest category: paper. My Dad, a retired Foreign Service officer and former state representative, had always had a thing about paper. He saved all of it.
We quickly realized that most of the papers in the storage space dated from Dad's time at the Hawaii State Legislature. He served ten years and was a prolific writer. There were many papers relating to bills he had helped pass, including letters to various departments and officials. There were also op-eds he wrote for the newspaper.
You might not think of paper as the most sentimental of categories, but the papers in the storage space packed the biggest emotional whallop for Mom and me. It was the way Dad had stored them. There were hundreds of large manila envelopes, each meticulously packed with letters, articles, and often additional envelopes full of more papers and business cards. We also found tax returns dating from as early as 1977, also carefully packaged in manila envelopes.
In his own way, Dad had probably felt that he was being organized and taking care of things for us, with his elaborately nested envelope system. And here we were discarding most of it, save for the best pieces of writing and a few photos.
But after all, Dad didn't need these papers any more. Mom and I decided that he'd be okay with us letting them go. It doesn't change how much we love him, or how proud we are of his service as a state representative.
And that's how Mom and I ended up getting the storage space cleared out. It took us several sessions of about 3 hours each. Now Mom has more money in her pocket each month, and the storage space is no longer an unfinished task hanging over her head. And we said goodbye to Dad, again.
It's never just about the stuff.
hello@organizedbykammy.com | ©2024 Organized By Kammy
