Fashionable Clutter

The hunt.  It involves dreaming of the catch.  How will you find out?  Where will it be?  If you manage to get your hands on it, will someone else come along and snatch it from you?  Will you have to beg, borrow, and steal to acquire it?  Will it be made of buttery leather that you can smell from outside your closet door?  Will the cashmere caress your body as you move through your daily cubicle maze?  What am I talking about?  Fashion.  Here we go!

I have a friend named Sue, and she is addicted to fashion.  If there is anything you need fashion wise, Sue has it.  Need a genuine Chinese dress to attend a formal Chinese tea?  Sue has that.  Have to have a pair of Stuart Weitzman pumps to do the white man's overbite in at your partner's company Christmas party?  Sue has those.  Are you into vintage furs?  Sue has a selection.  With all of these wonderful fashion confections in Sue's closet, I was starting to think she was a trust fund baby.  Nope.  One word, folks.  Goodwill.  Sue is the Goodwill Queen and King.  Hell!  Let's just call her Goodwill Royalty.  

I was perusing Sue's closet one day in search of who knows what.  I may have just been admiring.  She admitted to me that she had well over 100 dresses.  I don't think she had counted the shoes, but I had just watched her trip over a pair of fur-lined Calvin Klein boots, which were divine.  What's Goodwill Royalty to do with all of this fashionable clutter?  It can't go back to Goodwill because it was too good to be there to begin with.  Sue didn't really want the hassle of selling it on Ebay.  Wouldn't it be great to find wonderful homes for these fashions?  Sue yelled out as she tripped over a pair of Dolce and Gabanna sequined sling backs, "Swap party!"

It was on.  Sue was going to host a swap party for her friends.  The rules were simple.  Do you have fashionable clutter, which you love but do not want to send to Goodwill or bother selling?  Bring it to the party and swap it for something "new."  There were strict directions involved.  For example, Sue stated, "Don't bring a stained shirt from Walmart and think you are going home with Prada pumps."  I was nervous for Sue on the night of the party.  What if someone brought crap?  What if the one thing I really wanted was taken before it was my turn?  The horror!

The party began with fabulous food and drink because royalty was throwing it, after all.  The ladies noshed and sipped their way through all of the fabulous clothes, shoes, jewelry, and other accessories.  It was time.  Sue stumbled over a pair of plum colored espadrilles as she made her way to the center of the room.  She announced, "You will pull a number from this hat.  This number indicates your position in the swap.  When we get to your number, you may make one selection.  No one can take your selection away from you.  I hate those stupid Christmas parties where people can take away the stuff you want.  We will keep doing this until we run out of items or until you have made all of the selections you would like.  Whatever is left will be donated to a local women's charity."  Excellent! One lady was a bit disappointed that she couldn't steal.  She said, "I once took a beautiful Christmas ornament from a blind lady at a book club party."  Girlfriend don't play, so I was glad we had strict rules.  

The swapping began.  The chatter was happy, the wine was flowing, and the ladies were shopping!  I watched with amazement.  One lady slid her elegant hand into a suede Banana Republic blazer.  It fit her like a fabulous glove.  Another lady held an Ann Taylor dress up to her body and you would have thought she won the lottery.  A woman, who had a healthy obsession with all things animal print, was clutching a Kate Spade leopard print bag.  She looked like she was holding her first born.  

The night wore down, and we began to gather our new fashion and head home.  On the drive home, I realized what Sue had pulled off.  She Marched Fourth through her fashionable clutter and brought joy to so many people.  She brought joy to herself because she loves a good party.  She brought joy to the ladies attending because they got to trade some of their fashionable clutter for some brand new items.  She brought joy to the ladies at the women's charity because these were not your standard items that were left behind.  These ladies were going to get to paw through fabulous fashion just like we did.  In a sense, they would have their own swap party.  

Something as simple as having too much crap shoved in a closet had ended up bringing fun and fellowship to so many people.  It had a ripple effect!  I left the party with a smile on my face and two fabulous dresses.  I had brought 15 items, so I had "downsized," as well.  When we think of problems or issues which we have Marched Fourth through, we often think of great, life-changing events.  Sometimes the simple and fun things in life are just as important and bring just as much satisfaction to us.  Remember this lesson and keep marching...

Marching as a 10 year old...

Do you really remember what it was like to be a kid?  I know I remember the highs and lows, but I often forget how it actually felt.  I have a 10 year old nephew, and I absolutely adore him.  And, not just because he is a lot like me.  ;)  He is a neat little person, and his name is John Henry.  I find myself forgetting he could actually have fears or be uncertain about his future.  He's 10.  It's not like he has a mortgage.  

I was visiting him one weekend, which is something I should really do more often.  We always gather around my sister's breakfast island and just chat.  I had brought my favorite and well-worn tarot cards with me.  He asked me about them.  I gave him a quick answer as to what tarot was.  He asked me why I practiced.  I gave him another quick answer and did not even let my eyes leave my cards.  Silence.  I looked up, and he was staring intently at the cards.  He said, "I have an important problem."

Tarot

I asked him what his problem was.  It turns out he is very concerned about his career path.  John Henry has been involved in the theater from a very young age.  He has performed in small roles, large roles, musicals, plays, etc.  The kid belongs on a stage.  Even when he doesn't realize someone is watching him, he is performing.  He really wants to be an actor, and he has been having some concerns as to whether or not he is on the right path.  We sat at the breakfast island, along with my husband and my sister (JH's mom), and I read his cards.  He came to the conclusion that he was his own obstacle.  Fear was what held him back from pursuing his career path.  I was stunned.  All of this from a 10 year old boy.  

John Henry spent the night with us last night.  We woke up this morning and had to hobble together some sort of breakfast for him.  We fend for ourselves around here, so this is not usual for me and Big Al.  I was sitting at our breakfast table with John Henry and started to ask him some questions.  Since our tarot reading, I have really thought more about how he is feeling.  What does it feel like to be 10?  I don't remember.  Here's our conversation.

Me: "So, what's the hardest thing about being 10?"

JH: "Hair."

Me: "What do you mean hair?"

JH: "I'm starting to go through puberty, and I don't like dealing with hair."

Concise little fella!

Me: "What do you wish your parents would do for you that they are not doing?"

JH: "Nothing.  They support me."

Me: "How do they support you?"

JH: "Uncle Al!!!!  I need more sweet tea!"

That was the end of our conversation.  He's 10.  He might have more concerns than I ever stopped to think about, but he does have priorities.  Apparently, they involve sweet tea at breakfast because...why not?  I love that little man.  I love that he challenges me and makes me think in ways I am never confronted with in my daily life.  I love that he can simplify my concerns and priorities.  John Henry marches fourth as a 10 year old because he feels loved and supported, but this doesn't mean he has no worries.  Make sure you stop and ask some fun kid in your life how it is going.  You might be surprised with the answer.  Here's to my nephew.  My first interview for my new project: How do others March Fourth?  Oh, and I had to leave you with a proper photo.  

John Henry.  Future star.

Happy Valentine's Day

Here is a card that should make you giggle a bit. Enjoy!

Poetry in Motion

When all else fails, I write.  Writing helps me make my brain slow down.  It's similar to cleaning up a cluttered space.  You want to organize everything, so you can find it and use it.  My brain gets "spinning" so fast, and I have to stop it.  I write.  Then, everything is in one place and organized.  I can go back later and find everything I need.  Organized space.  

*April 16, 2013: Life changed forever.  I experienced a traumatic loss.  The loss is deep and ripples throughout my marriage and my closest friendships.  I lost my fierce and loyal friend, Lee.  That's really  all I can say about that day for now.

I deal with loss with writing.  Specifically, I deal with loss with poetry.  My sister reintroduced me to Mary Oliver, who happens to be one of my favorite poets.  Her piece titled Wild Geese has always been one of my favorites.  The day I lost Lee I found myself reciting this over and over in my head.  I found myself wanting to read it.  I found myself just wanting to physically have the poem with me.  For readers who have never read the poem, here you go.

Wild Geese - Mary Oliver

You do not have to be good.
You do not have to walk on your knees
for a hundred miles through the desert, repenting.
You only have to let the soft animal of your body love what it loves.
Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine.
Meanwhile the world goes on.
Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain
are moving across the landscapes,
over the prairies and the deep trees,
the mountains and the rivers.
Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air,
are heading home again.
Whoever you are, no matter how lonely,
the world offers itself to your imagination,
calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting-
over and over announcing your place
in the family of things.

My world has been forever changed in so many ways.  I've also had to painfully watch my husband and two of my most cherished friends' worlds change.  Throughout this tragedy, I have lost perspective on who Lee really was.  This poem always brought me back and gave me perspective.  We all have our despair.  There is no set way to deal with it.  The world keeps moving.  If you stop and take notice, your world has kept moving.  Moving doesn't mean that the memories go away.  I decided to make my favorite poem have motion.

My favorite poem in motion

Meet my wild goose.  Yes, it's permanent.  My tattoo reminds me that tragedy has touched us all.  Yes, your world may forever be changed, but your world keeps moving.  There are so many things to enjoy, discover, and explore.  Lee would want me to find my way to keep doing these things.  He would want me to help those he loved keep moving.  My wild goose keeps me on track.  My wild goose keeps me Marching Fourth.  What authors or pieces have kept you Marching Fourth?  

*My hope is to write about Lee in the future.  Those that love him and miss him just aren't ready to explore the loss yet.  We know you are with us, Lee.  We love you.

Treasure

If you were to look through my purse or my pockets, you would find so many odd things.  I see them as treasures.  Since I was a child, I have collected objects that hold meaning just for me.  The objects are not necessarily expensive or even things that a person would buy.  Most of my favorite treasures were given to me, so they are also connected to a person in my life.  My dad was the first person to start my treasure chest of odds and ends.  The very first treasure I remember getting from him was a buckeye.  He simply told me they were lucky, and I took his word for it.  I kept that buckeye in my pocket, my backpack, my tiny, sweaty hand, and on my bedside table at night.  It now "lives" in a special place in my house, along with other treasures.

Recently, my dad gave me a persimmon seed.  This particular persimmon seed is very special.  He handed it to me, and he told me to hold it until it was warm.  I have no idea why he said this, but I obeyed.  As I held my persimmon seed tight, he told me the story of how he found it.  He saw it sticking up out of a pile of dog shit on one of his daily walks around the lake.  He dug it out.  Cleaned it up.  And, now, it's lucky because it's gone through a dog's digestive system and found its way to me.  Does this really make any sense?  No.  Is it true?  I don't know.  I choose to believe him.  When I am having a bad day, I "dig" my persimmon seed out and hold it tight until it is very warm.  It makes me smile and giggle to think of my dad's story, and the journey of the lucky persimmon seed.

Yes, the deer are not facing you, but I like that.
The lucky persimmon seed, but with no dookie.

Another notable treasure is my U.K. Santa Claus button.  To really understand this treasure, I need to give you some backstory.  I am a cancer survivor.  During the time of my chemotherapy and radiation, I had a friend from the U.K. and had met her through blogging.  Her name is Amber, and her husband's name is James.  We exchanged emails and began exchanging fun care packages.  She would send me awesome packages full of things we just don't see here in the U.S.  I would send her Moon Pies, pork rinds, and circus peanuts.  I'm Southern, ya'll.  I had been having a really hard time, and Amber knew this through the emails I sent her.  I received a care package from Amber and her husband, James.  James had sent me a treasure.  There was a department store in the U.K. where he had gone to see Santa Claus as a child.  When the child sat on Santa's lap and spoke of his/her wishes, then the child received a button.  The button featured the name of the department store.  The button was one of James' treasures since he was a child.  He gave it to me.  I used to take this button with me for my chemotherapy treatments.

James' treasure.

 I would clutch the button in my hand during the treatments.  I am healthy now, and I keep this treasure on my bedside table right next to the persimmon seed.  It makes me smile.  It reminds me that you can have dear friends who you may never meet face-to-face.

Treasures are always special when someone else has chosen you as the recipient; however, it can be just as powerful and meaningful to find your own treasures.  I remember the first time my eyes met Olive's.  She was in an antique shop in Savannah, GA.  Her legs were kicked up in the air.  It was as if she had no worries.  She was also a really fun shade of pink and had a bit of a smirk on her face.  I had to have her.  I quickly snatched her up and purchased her.  She went everywhere with me throughout Savannah.  I noticed she liked the bars the most.  Who doesn't, right?  Olive was a party girl.  She came home with me, and she now lives on my fireplace mantle.  She likes to see what people are doing and has been known to join in if she spies a martini.  

Treasures help me through hard times.  Treasures help me remember happy times.  Treasures are connected to emotions.  Treasures are connected to people.  I always get a funny look at airport security because the TSA may find a buckeye or an old Christmas button in my jeans.  I'm sure they see Olive in my purse as she cruises through the x-ray machine.  No matter.  These are objects that bring me comfort.  Sometimes it's a way that I can continue Marching Fourth through my day.  I would love to hear what the readers' treasures are and why.  Can't wait to hear from you!

Olive