Collections, justifications and the thrill of the deal

I've started reading Sloane Crosley's,  I Was Told There'd Be Cake, and got to thinking about my own random collections.  As kids we all collect stuff.  Younger kids collect rocks, Pokemon cards, Barbies, stickers, or in my youngest daughter's case, traffic cones. As humans morph into teens, the collections change into chapstick, music, Magic Cards, trophies, or paraphernalia relating to a certain movie star and movie, in our house, it was Johnny Depp as Captain Jack Sparrow and everything related to Pirates. 

But as an adult, what sort of odd collections do we tend to accumulate?  What would you be a little more than embarrassed to have some family relative come through your home to find?  Is it a stash of extra shoelaces? You know how they almost always give you two pairs of laces with shoes now, do you save those, just in case?  Maybe, you have a whole drawer in your dresser dedicated to all those extra shoelaces. 

I was going to say as I get older, but I don't get older, I am forever 23 in my head.  My body needs to get the message, it seems on fast forward, but that is a different story.  I have collected different things over the years, but the mainstay always return to purses.  They are impulses that I can't seem to quite get a grip on.  I go looking for these things.  Do I need them? No, most certainly not in 99.9% of the purchases. Will I use them? That is more like a 50-50 thing.  Do I want them? Absolutely! 

I have purses stashed, under the bed, in the coat closet, in my closet,  and in my craft room.  There is no way I will possibly use all of them.  I have purses that I have never even used, but had to have.  I have people giving me purses, I can't possibly say no to, so I smile, take them and say thank you very much.  I am not the type of girl who changes her purse for every outing, season, or reason.  So, what is my preoccupation with them?  I can't honestly say.  I just like having them, somehow it makes me feel more feminine, and I like the thrill of the hunt for the best deal. 

I love finding a great purse at the consignment store or at Salvation Army for a ridiculously low price.  I have found Vera Bradley at Salvation Army for $2.00!  It was in immaculate condition, how could I possibly leave it there for someone who might not appreciate it?  I HAD to have it!  The softness, the pockets, Oh My!  And then there was the bright red Coach bag at the consignment store for $20.  An unused Coach bag, tag inside and everything for $20!  The leather was so soft, the pockets and pouches and shiny metal.  I don't typically pay that much for a purse, but this was a Coach, so I made an exception, and justified with making the Dean's list on my first semester back to school after a 20 year hiatus. 

I love to come home with my new found purse, and strut my stuff to my family.  Who laugh at me, shake their heads and ask what I am going to do with all the other ones I have stashed around the house.  I pretend I don't hear them.  Instead, I clean out the old purse, and begin cherishing the new one, organizing my belongings.and leaving the old one on the dining room table for a day or two before trying to find a space for my old friend.  I can't give it away, it has served me well.  We have shared many experiences, found many a great deals.  The likelihood of me retrieving it for use in the future? Well, um, uh...

Alabama Adventures

This past weekend, we had the opportunity to be warned and prepared for a possible natural disaster. We had time to gather the necessary items and were braced for the worst case scenario. Although, the most that occurred in our immediate area were a few downed limbs and small power outages. We had warning, we were prepared and we survived perhaps the dullest hurricane warning in a long time.

However, this was not the case for five southern states this past April. A tornado watch suddenly appeared., alerting residents to the possible dangers that were unpredictably speeding towards them. Tornadoes do not necessarily follow a direct path as our hurricane or nor'easters tend to do. These people did not have a lot of notice to prepare themselves, gather their information, loved ones, food, gas, batteries and so on.

I watched the news, and was saddened by what I saw once the news crews could get the images out to the nation. What increased my sorrow however was the seemingly lack of response for assistance, compassion, and volunteerism towards our own countrymen. True, Osama bin Laden was captured, the was a tsunami in Japan, and the Royal Wedding that made headlines shortly after the tornadoes. But there were still people without homes, clothing, food, and loved ones to bury in our own country. FEMA appeared as did the insurance companies and Red Cross at first, the agencies do no stay long, nor is their assistance generous. The majority of Americans were burnt out on charity it appeared.

I connected with groups based in Alabama who were assisting people in the disaster cleanup and restoration. The larger cities were fairing better than the smaller towns. The smaller towns, as we well know, do not have the budget to deal with large catastrophes. I followed what was going on for four months until I could fly down there myself and give my time and labor to help these people rebuild. On August 10^th, I landed in Birmingham, Alabama, as my plane taxied the runway to the terminal, I saw a building that looked like a Salvador Dali painting, but it was real. It was torn in half, and the pieces that remained looked as if they were slowly melting in the southern sun.

It was just the beginning of eye opening week long experience in the Heart of Dixie. As I drove to my hotel, I saw a tall highway lamppost that had been pulled up, twisted as though through a metal roller, and deposited on the grass area of the freeway. As I settled into my hotel and explored my surroundings, I felt at ease. Southern hospitality includes friendliness, good manners, courteousness, humbleness and a genteelness that seems to make encounters with others very pleasant.

The next day, I contacted Andrea Pate, who headed up the Freewill Baptist Disaster Relief in Cordova, Alabama. She told me to come right on over, and she could put me to work. I drove through the town, the entire downtown section of Cordova had been lifted up and put down again, in a way that would not allow for rebuilding. The small businesses were closed, and the buildings would have to be imploded upon themselves. The grocery store in this small town was demolished, as was the bank, gas station and police station. The nearest places for these people to get services was 16 miles north in Jasper. The bank vault is all that remained standing of the bank, and the bank moved into a trailer type of facility, as did the police station. Many homes were removed from their foundations, or roofs torn off, large trees on top of houses, leaving many families homeless.

When I met Andrea, I found a woman on a mission. Her home was not destroyed, but she was determined to help out her fellow citizens, and rebuild life in the town of Cordova. She came up with the idea to take homes that were abandoned in the town, contact the owners, and negotiate a remodel in exchange for one years free rent for tornado survivors. After which time, it would be up to the owner and the tenant to negotiate an agreement. She sent me out to one home to work with another group of volunteers who had come down from Connecticut to chip away mortar from the cinder blocks of a destroyed garage to take to another site for another project. It was hard, tedious work. But it was meaningful and rewarding also. The next day, I showed up a little better prepared. I purchased some tools the night before at WalMart. Again, I chipped away mortar, this time on bricks from a crumbled chimney to be used as a walkway for another home that was almost completed. As Andrea became too busy to remember what she had me doing, I began loading the bricks into the trunk of my rental car, and moving them over to the house, small loads at a time until I had completed the brick walkway. Another day, I helped move 2x10's so the roofers could cover roof of the historic landmark in town, and preserve it from being further damaged. Another day, I went to Pratt City, and volunteered with a group called the Alabama Bloggers. Again, an online connection. We helped people get food, clothing, personal care and house cleaning items.

I met many wonderful people during my adventure, heard stories that will stay with me a lifetime, had a lot of good laughs, shed some tears, and lots of hugs. My hope in sharing this story is that we will all realize that one person can make a difference. Whether it is local or not, if your heart is tugging at you to reach out, listen and stretch yourself. You will have an amazing experience.

Conquering Fears

Fears are usually related to one to two things.  No, make that three. 

One, there is a reason why you have that fear. For example, you might be afraid of dogs because you have been bitten or badly frightened by a dog in your past.  This is an understandable and rational fear that can be overcome with time and effort.

Second reason for fear is you don't know that particular dog, it is big and it is black. Which recalls some story or movie that you have seen that big, black strange dogs are ravaging creatures who eat people just because they can. This automatically triggers fear, which is a little irrational, but it is fear nonetheless and can paralyze you if you allow it that power, or you can choose to take charge in that situation and open yourself up to the reality of the present moment; which is neither a work of fiction or a film.

Thirdly, fear can be attributed to the unknown.  You have never seen this sort of dog, and are unaware of their behavior traits, therefore you are unsure as to how well they respond to new people.  This third type of fear is validated, and does call for caution and investigation.  This requires active participation and interaction.  It is perhaps the most challenging type of fear to overcome for most people.

This weekend, I conquered my fear of the riding lawn mower.  This may not sound like a big deal to a lot of people, however, for me, it was.  Fifteen years ago, when we moved into the house, my husband brought home a riding lawn mower.  We live on just under an acre of property, and I grew up in the suburbs in California, which has a considerably less property size lot than the suburbs of Massachusetts.  Trying to channel into my old tomboy days, I started up the mower, having no clue how to operate it, and promptly crashed it into the garage door.  No real damage was done, other than my ego being very bruised.  For the next 15 years, my husband has told everyone that story when they comment on the lawnmower.  He taught all three of our kids how to use it, but told me I was forbidden, in case I crashed it again.  So, this weekend, while he was gone, I decided it was now or never.

I watched a YouTube video on how to start up the mower properly, went out to the shed and rolled the mighty fearful machine out onto the lawn.  Safe from running into anything, just in case things got away from me in a hurry.  Recalling the details of the video, I followed the directions completely.  The next thing I knew, I was mowing the back yard, and I did a fine job, if I say so myself.  I rolled into the front and finished that too.  Afterward, I stood there looking at the mower which had intimidated me to 15 years and laughed.  I did it! I conquered the lawnmower and faced my fear of going anywhere near it.  I do feel stronger and more independent as a result.

Earlier this summer, I faced and conquered another fear. I submitted a piece of my writing to a contest held by the Carve Magazine.  As a writer, exposing your work, even on a blogging level, is in an essence exposing yourself, leaving you feeling very vulnerable.  Personally, I do not know anyone who likes the feeling of vulnerability.  That arena of uncertainty, risk, fear of failure or rejection is not a comfortable place to be.  I pulled out a story that I had been working on for a few months, dusted it off, polished it up, named it, and formatted it according to the guidelines of the contest.  And just like that, I submitted it.  I had put it in the back of my mind, until this morning when on my Twitter account, I read "We're getting close to wrapping up our first round readings for the contest. Some notices will go out beginning mid-August." 

Again, comes up a rush of emotions, but not fear, this time it is more like anticipation, excitement, curiosity and hope.  A lot like a small child at Christmastime, wondering and hoping that Santa will bring them exactly what they have wished for in their heart.  In my case, I am very hopeful for first place. But if I don't get it, that is okay, because I have taken the first scary step of submitting my work, and I am not afraid to do it again.  I now know how, and it isn't that hard.

As Evelyn Couch, in Fried Green Tomatoes, said when taking her first swing with her sledge hammer to knock down a wall that needed moving "Towonda!"  Find your inner strength and conquer those inhibitions, if I can do it, so can you!

Hoping you discover new found strength and peace,
Cindy