When I was a child I loved to read…I still do. Although television had a big impact on me, books also played a part in how I learned to see the world. The Bobbsey twins and Nancy Drew were favorites. In the houses of the books of my youth the attics were always filled with mystery. On rainy days or long summer afternoons, the characters would explore the attic, open an old trunk and find a clue that led to fun and mystery.
I was raised in southern California…we didn’t have many rainy days, attics or basements. I always wanted that attic filled with old trunks and treasures from the past.
I’ve wondered if I hold on to the remainders of family life that clutter up our home because I am creating that scene that I only read about in childhood. My grandchildren live 2,000 miles away…they’re not spending rainy afternoons in my attic, trying on Nana’s old clothes and hats. Nana still doesn’t have an attic or a basement.
I have a hard time getting rid of anything. I can always think of a situation where it would come in handy. As soon as I throw out that adapter to a long-lost piece of electronic equipment, someone will be desperate for just such an adapter.
I love watching those clean-up shows on television…Clean House and Clean Sweep. Instead of encouraging me to clean up, I get reassured that I’m not as bad as those people on TV. I’m always afraid of throwing away something valuable. I blame this on years of watching Antiques Road Show. My rational mind knows that there are no priceless possessions to be unearthed in my clutter. So why do I still have that original Batman charm bracelet from the 1960’s?
Maybe I don’t need an attic full of junk for my granddaughters. In the garage there isn’t Nancy’s blue Metropolitan Nash convertible, but I do have a green MG midget..maybe the granddaughters can drive around with the top down, their hair streaming behind them, and have adventures?