A Few of My Favorite Things

I’m house hunting. It’s not my first time, but this time is different. This time, it’s all about me. (Well, it’s about my dog, Annie, and me. But I’m confident that she’d be happy if we lived in a cardboard box, as long as I was home a lot.)

 

Also different this time: I “staged” my house for sale, first by myself and then with a professional stager hired by my Realtor. Staging basically means “going neutral” in terms of a color scheme, and packing away or covering anything remotely interesting. OK, that last part is somewhat of an exaggeration, but only a bit. 

My bedroom? “A lot of personality,” advised my Realtor. I was initially taken aback, but a Google search for “home staging” backs her up. “They need to see your home, not your stuff,” writes Matthew Finlanson, host of HGTV’s The Stagers. He says that “taking yourself out of the picture makes it easier for buyers to imagine themselves, and their stuff, in your space.”

Whateva. Their stuff. My stuff. It’s all just stuff. Like most Americans, I have way too much of it. Armed with Hefty bags, boxes and packing tape, I jumped on the “staging” bandwagon with the precision of a surgeon with no emotional connection to his patient. Every Sunday night for weeks, I filled my garbage and recycling bins to capacity and made regular runs to Goodwill. 

But a funny thing happened as I removed the Obama magnets from the fridge, packed away the framed construction paper self-portrait of my son in middle school, and transformed my meditation altar into a decorative shelf. I realized that I like my home like I like my friends -- with plenty of personality. And much of that personality comes from the things that surround me.

Before

After

 

Sure, they’re just things, and I was overdue for some weeding. But I don’t see the harm in appreciating those items that made the cut (even if some are stored in boxes until my house meets its new inhabitants). There’s pleasure and comfort in surrounding yourself with objects that you love, whether it’s because they’re especially useful, richly sentimental or just pleasing to look at. 

My home is filled with original art I’ve collected from my travels during the last 30 years. Among the most special are my oldest pieces: the onyx chess set from Tijuana, Mexico, that I lugged on the plane with my carry-on luggage after an internship at the LA Times; the Mayan parade batik from my honeymoon in Mexico (the marriage didn’t last, but the artwork endures); and the Montreal watercolor that my late father bought me from a street artist during a rare vacation together.

 I think, or hope anyway, that I’ve passed on to my son the idea that art makes the best souvenir. He’s off to a great start with a set of New York City skyline photographs from a family East Coast trip; a handmade sword he picked out from the factory in Toledo, Spain; and an official reproduction of his favorite painting, Goya’s The Third of May 1808, from the Prado in Madrid.

  Reproductions are fine, but there’s something particularly powerful about purchasing a piece directly from the artist whose hands created it. My mother and I do this about every other fall, at the St. James Art Fair in Louisville. I met the metalworker who designed my wall clock with the twisty second hand; the woodworker who carved my  desk clock with a swinging pendulum; the glass artist who blew life into my window vase; and clay artists who formed numerous pieces of pottery I use very day.

Sometimes, you don’t even have to leave home to find a cherished item. One of my favorite wall paintings is a print of Girl Reading by Lexington, KY, artist Linda Horvay, a friend and fellow church member.

Soon, that girl will be reading in a new home. I’ll be packing all my treasures with care, where they will decorate a new stage, worthy of the next act (or two or three) of my life.

*******

Anyone notice that this post is dated about 13 months since my last one? It’s hard to believe that it has been more than a year. As the months passed by, I had what I thought were some pretty good ideas. I started several posts. But I just didn’t make it to the “publish” button. Maybe my lofty standards got in the way of progress (a recurring theme in my life), or maybe I just wasted too much time watching back-to-back Big Bang Theory reruns on TBS. That’s the tricky thing about a hobby such as blogging. You want enough discipline to keep it interesting, but not so much that it becomes another “have-to-do” in a “have-to-do” filled life.

Anyway, I hope to be writing a bit more regularly. “Once a week would be ideal,” my good friend Bridget helpfully suggested. That’s not going to happen, but I will do my best to shoot for once a month. And I will take her advice to experiment with some shorter posts. Thanks to Bridget and all of my friends for their continued encouragement. It’s good to be back.

Growing up, UUCL style

From right: Alex, Graham and Miles at Camp Lackadogma

One of my favorite church services each year is the Religious Exploration celebration, which includes a farewell to – and from – the high school seniors, who are introduced by their parents.

That is, it was a favorite until this year. Because this year, this morning to be exact, my son was doing the farewell and I was doing the introducing.

We’ve come full circle. Fourteen years ago, it was 4-year-old Alex and his barrage of questions about God, religion and spirituality that led us to the Unitarian Universalist Church of Lexington. We didn’t find absolute answers to those questions, of course, but I can’t imagine a better place to explore them. And we found so much more.

As Alex prepares to graduate and leave for college, he takes with him a host of rich memories and valuable lessons from this dynamic community in which he has been privileged to have grown up.

Odd wise man

In fact, any reminiscence of his childhood would be incomplete without UUCL: The chalice lightings; Joys and Concerns; speeches and productions and performances (including parts as Jesus and a wise man with the giant gold lame' turban); overnight youth cons; the beloved retreat Camp Lackadogma; and themed Service Auctions.

The "nice young couple"

Even this year’s church directory photo shoot was memorable, when the apparently sight-impaired Olan Mills salesman taking us through the proofs referred to us as a “nice young couple” before Alex’s outburst of laughter let him know that something was amiss.

UUCL taught him about diversity and fairness and justice and social action and environmental responsibility. In short, he learned what it means to embody his childhood definition of Unitarian Universalism: “Loving Hearts, Open Minds, Helping Hands.”

He learned the beauty and comfort of tradition and ritual: the flower communion in which individual flowers of differing shapes, colors and varieties create a congregational bouquet; the water ceremony that signifies reconnecting after our summer travel; and “Silent Night” in a candlelight circle on Christmas Eve.

He explored his personal spirituality in the Coming of Age program and learned how to be a responsible sexual being in Our Whole Lives.

He learned the satisfaction of service by organizing the Crop Walk, being a teen mentor for new Coming of Agers and helping Sharon run the Service Auction kitchen. Occasionally, he even learned how to – and how not to – deal with controversial issues that have far-reaching implications.

Although his parents divorced when he was 10, Alex learned that successful relationships can thrive, sometimes  for multiple decades. A heartfelt thank you to some of the many loving examples: Bob and Ruth; Gil and Jan; Wayne and Shirley; Judy and Judy; Dick and Donna; Alan and Judy; Roz and Herm; and Joe and Elise.

Woodstock Service Auction '12

At UUCL, Alex has crossed paths with more interesting, talented, dedicated and downright quirky people than most middle class white kids from Lexington, KY, could dream of. He’s a better person for it. We often say that UUCL is the only game in town for one reason: because it is.

He’s made great friends, including some intergenerational ones. I’m not sure how many 18-year-olds have a dozen 70- and 80-year-olds among their Facebook friends. A fringe benefit to that: he’s encouraged to keep his Facebook posts clean.

Like my actual home, my “church home” will be a bit empty come August. I’ll miss sharing a hymnal and singing (off key, both of us) our favorite songs “Gather the Spirit” and “Enter Rejoice and Come In.”

But I take solace in the fact that Alex will be taking along a childhood full of memories from UUCL. I hope he hears the congregation singing the very tune that carried his youthful self to RE classes each Sunday:

Go now in peace; go now in peace.

May the spirit of love surround you;
Everywhere, everywhere, you may go.