Procrasti-blogging

Right up front I'll tell you I'm behind on my NaNoWriMo word count, so the obvious thing to do is put off writing and do a blog post instead. Of course, I can justify it as priming the creative pump. And thanks to my niece, Emily, for the title. She said she was procrasti-baking ---- an activity that I can certainly get behind ---- instead of doing her homework.

This morning feels like near normal. Jill went to work without waking us up. Jack is at the Heritage. Mom and I both woke up about the same time and had breakfast and did some housekeeping. She's at her best in the morning, so we were able to talk and laugh over blueberry smoothies and English muffins.

As we were tidying up, I started thinking about all the people and animals who are represented in this household. I have to admit that I have the gene for hoarding, though I do all in my power to keep it under control. Sort of. It dovetails my rock-bottom belief that material culture is what tells the story of the past. So you can well imagine who's the first in line with her hand up, when there are family heirlooms up for grabs. We have, in this 1800 sq. ft. house, furniture, books, letters, photographs and clothing that span 5 identifiable generations. And now, with the addition of Lucky Lu on top of the entertainment center in a wonderful little wooden box, the ashes of two loved ones.

That brings up the question for me ---- what's to become of all the ashes? Think about it. Many, many more people are being cremated these days. Now, I know that lots of times the ashes are spread across mountains and oceans and favorite park ponds. But my bet is that there is a growing number of households across the country who have forebears parked along the mantle piece or stashed on the dresser. When my father died, we buried some in the family plot, spread some over the graves of his parents, dusted the "graveyard" in back of the house and still had ashes left over. I have them in a Christmas box on top of the music cabinet that belonged to his mother, along with a couple of pictures of him. I like having him in the house. I like having Lucky here, too.

But one day, Jill and I will expire and we may have an entire shrine of deceased family members, human and otherwise, for somebody else to dispose of. Can you imagine the conversation?

"Who wants Grandma?"
"Well, I suppose I could take both of them, but I don't have room for everybody."
"Uncle Ralph? Anybody taking Uncle Ralph?"
"I'll take half if somebody else will take the rest. I've already got Aunt Barb."
"And what about the dogs?"
Dead silence.

I think about what a task it will be to dismantle our household one day. We have some splendid furniture that's already a century and a half old and probably should not be sat upon any more, though we do. We have mementos from all over Europe that the folks picked up and passed along. And I have quite the collection of my own things, though nothing that's of any dollar value, I don't think. Should I spare the kids the problem of disposing of my things, or leave it up to them? I have the advantage of having spawned a congenital, as well as professional, curator, who shares my archival sensibility. I pity her poor, future spouse, who will get a delightful partner and a houseful of STUFF!

For the moment, though, there is nothing that must be done besides unpacking the last 6 boxes that came with Mom and finding places to put it all. Oh yes, and write 4,000 Nano words.

Or maybe bake a banana bread . . . those bananas are getting mighty spotted.