Over the years, I have lived in countless apartments and homes in four different states-- Ohio, New Jersey, New York and California. With each move, packing was fairly simple. The big stuff got loaded into the boxes then put on a truck; the important stuff, my mementos, were always hand-carried by me. It's been that way since the first time I packed my belongings when I was in the 6th grade.
By this time, the cigar box was replaced with a larger shoe box and included notes from high school boyfriends, my diary, a small carved bear from a trip to Yosemite National Park when I was 13, and the Christmas decoration my parents gave me each year since I was born. In my family, when you leave home, you have to take your "stuff" with you and that included Christmas decorations to decorate your own tree with.
When I was 20, I moved with a loser boyfriend to New Jersey, then promptly got smart, and dumped him. With this move, my mementos box grew into a larger cardboard box, but one still small enough for me to hand carry.
It was made clear to my loser boyfriend that the stuff in the box was off limits to him and I was not going to include or carry his mementos in my box. That really bugged him, so of course, when I ditched him, he took all of my Christmas decorations thinking I'd be back (to him) for them. He was wrong. He's the kind of guy who's probably still hanging my baby ornaments on his tree today. Like I said-- Loser.
Newly single, I lived blissfully in New York for several years, first with a wonderful aunt and uncle who "took me in" during my time of need, and then in a tiny studio apartment that I absolutely adored.
When you live in a small space you only have the things you really want and cherish. Plus your furniture is multi-purpose, like my hide-away sofa that I pulled out into my bed every night for years. I loved New York and my mementos and memories grew.
Sadly, when I was 26, my publishing job transferred me to San Francisco-- you know the one 3,000 miles away from all my family, friends and New York City. I was depressed but it was a great career opportunity. I packed up my tiny apartment and put everything on a truck that schlepped it cross-county to my new apartment on the Bay.
Of course, I carried my mementos, now in a wicker suitcase, on the airplane and cried the entire flight. I had started a new collection of ornaments, added more photos, letters, a program from a Bruce Springsteen Born in the USA concert, a couple of love notes and several important family heirlooms that had been passed down to me. I can't remember how many times, living in San Francisco, I went through my wicker suitcase. It was a lonely place for me and I found great comfort sorting through my treasures.
Fortunately, 2 years later, Los Angeles called with a better job offer and away I went with the promise that I'd be transferred back to my beloved NYC in three years. I met my husband four months after I arrived and, as they say, the rest is history. I never moved back to New York but I did live in two different apartments before we married.
Although the wicker suitcase was now very full, it sat on the front seat of my car as I made the drive south to Los Angeles. The afternoon I waited for the moving van to arrive with my furniture from San Francisco, I decided to work at "liking Los Angeles".
I unpacked some of the momentous-- something I had not done in San Francisco, and lined my fireplace mantel, and the nook in the hallway and kitchen. My treasures had grown to include a tiny hand painted watercolor of the Empire State Building, a small porcelain kitten from my father, pearls from my grandfather, many letters and cards from my family, and a lovely small jewelry box with an antique pocket watch from a dear friend who had since passed away.
I lived in this apartment for nearly five years until.... I was robbed.
By the time I moved into my husband's home, just before our wedding, my memento collection, despite the robbery, had grown. I'd done a considerable amount of traveling to Europe and across the US and gathered bits and pieces of treasures along the way. And I saved many things from my courtship with my now husband-- ticket stubs, cards from delivered flowers, silly notes and the likes. I tend to cherish smaller things, knowing I travel WITH my mementos, but my basket now required two hands to carry and a little muscle as well.
It took me a long while to unpack in my husband's home. Adjusting to married life and "a room mate" so to speak was foreign to me at first. Settling into a new home and dividing up "space" was a challenge too. My husband is "Mr. Clean" with no "stuff" anywhere. Suddenly staking claim for mementos was an interesting dance between us.
Nevertheless, after nearly 16 years of marriage, many of my most cherished mementos are close at hand and in eye-sight (thank heaven for an alarm system). Once I started pulling items out of the basket and putting them around the house--although I admit, most are still in our bedroom-- I felt much more at home, both in the house I now shared with my husband and in Los Angeles in general. I'm still thousands of miles away from friends and family but the bits and pieces of them I have near me help bring them closer.
My basket has grown to a small hamper that I keep in my office. I sort through the papers, notes, cards, and keepsakes, usually monthly, and I continue to add new things all the time.
My 12-year-old godson has also sorted through my mementos a number of times over the years. It was much more interesting to him when he was younger but he still enjoys going through it and pointing out the memories we've created together. I laugh now when he passes me a movie ticket stub or a napkin from the Disney Restaurant in Hollywood to "add to the pile of stuff" as he calls it. He knows we're creating memories that I will cherish forever.
Do you collect mementos?
Welcome to The Fifty Factor - Joanna
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