perspective

Out With the Old

Out you go! In with the new. Cleansing is going on around me. Recycle, repurpose, redirect, reconfigure, remove, renew, etc.

Sometimes you need to reshuffle life. A fresh perspective. Some old items are sort of new these days. Maybe they were rehomed or repurposed. Meaning they will live another day despite their age. Maybe they just needed a new environment. Maybe some new paint. Maybe some buffing or waxing. Maybe even a recycling project of sorts. Taking older components to reuse in a different way making them new but still old. Recycling is good for the environment and has many benefits.

Speaking of old, I got rid of an old car. Not a super old car but one that still had many miles left to go. It was pretty. It was fun. It took many adventures. Only it was time for something new. Out it goes!

A new purpose. A different look. A unchartered kind of road ahead for its owner and companions. Nightfall has come. A new journey begins. Off we go.

Have you had to let go of something in the past to make room for the future? Many have to experience this in life. Sometimes with the arrival of a new baby something has to go. Maybe when aging something must go. Maybe if downsizing is needed something must go.

Cleansing is a process. Maybe you can just start cleansing your social media followers list as a practice activity. See who you miss and who you don’t. Out with old. Off we go. Go, go, go as Dr. Seuss would say.

family

A Cast From the Past

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Sometimes you run across a piece of paper that stops you in your tracks.

I was going through some boxes of old family “stuff” when I found a large old brown envelope of sympathy cards.  After sifting through several of them, I realized they were cards sent to my maternal grandmother when my grandfather, her husband, passed away.

Holding those cards transported me back to when I was about 6 or 7 years old.  He was the first person that I can remember dying.   I recall I had a solo singing Jingle Bell Rock in my school first grade Christmas program. I wore a green dress with candy canes on the bib and a white blouse with a scalloped collar.  I remember my mother wasn’t there to see me sing.  At that age, I couldn’t really understand what was happening.  Why my mom sat slumped over on the bed, her back to me, sobbing.

All I knew was my mother wasn’t there to see me sing.

Flipping through the cards now. So many beautiful cards, most simply finished with a signature. Names I didn’t know. People who loved and remembered.

Then, a different kind of card.  No lilies or angels or cursive sympathies.  Flat. Engraved with black letters. Someone had given a book to a library as a way to honor my grandfather’s death.  And it was a book about fishing.

It was a full circle moment for a couple of reasons.  First, I am a librarian.  So a book memorial has special meaning for me.  And then, my daughter, Dianne, who bears the name of my mother, loves fishing.  So knowing there is a book out there, in a library somewhere, all about fishing, to honor my granddad felt both sublime and bittersweet.

Finding that card was like a cord running through generations. A moment of connection with a long distant past. I had no idea my grandfather loved fishing, even though he lived a stone’s throw from Lake Chautauqua.  It was a smile down from a man lost decades ago as well as his daughter, to me and my own daughter who shares her name.

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