Week #3 The Attic in Pacific Grove

Ah the attic. I have dreamed about what was crammed inside it. Two years ago, when I made the very impetuous decision to move to Oregon, I had 4 weeks to go through every single thing I owned.

I sorted it into 5 piles:

1) Stuff for Oregon (I knew the size of the small duplex I had rented)

2) Stuff to pass on to my children (just about anything they wanted) 

3) Things I wanted to keep but didn't make the cut to go to Oregon (this was the stuff in my attic)
4) Things to store in my cousin Pattie's garage - stuff for the annual Yosemite camping trip and other odds and ends that didn't fit in the attic.
 5) Goodwill - lots went to Goodwill. Why do we save stuff we never use?

One goal of this trip was to deal with what remained in California - items #3 and #4. When I arrived in early July I went though the 10 bins stored at Pattie's. I decided to keep about 2 boxes worth of stuff and will take these back to Portland at the end of the month. The rest I gave to Goodwill or to family members. All that is now left at Pattie's is my Yosemite camping stuff. Thank you, Pattie!

Now I had to face the attic. It is a small attic - maybe 15 feet long by 5 feet wide but with a sharply slanting roof. It is more of a crawl space than a true attic. In my memory it was stuffed with cartons, bags and 35 boxes of books. The reality was much better than I remembered. There were only 19 boxes of books and I could actually see space around things - it wasn't stuffed to capacity. It only took 20 minutes to unload it all into the small bedroom where the attic entrance is located. It took another 40 minutes, using the bucket brigade method, to pass all the boxes and bags down the narrow stairs to the living room, from the living room to the side deck, and from the side deck to my neighbor's driveway across the street (I didn't want to use my own driveway given that it technically belongs to my tenants)

My house

I thank Lee and Michelle who drove down from Oakland to help, Francia's friend René (who laughed when I asked him to please arrive at 4:00 American time, not Honduran time), and my tenant Albert. I couldn't have done it without them. René happily took all the bedding that I had saved - no need for it now - and some small pieces of furniture. What he could not use, he told me, he would pass on to people at his church. 

René and his daughter Frances

René's wife and Francia

Lee and Michelle took Lee's great grandfather's desk and chair and my old dog Bayley's very comfortable bed for Buloot.

What was left was piled on my neighbor's driveway. Several years ago my wonderful neighbor Greg had filled his driveway with the contents of his business from which he had just retired and odds and ends from his life's work. His equally wonderful wife, Robin, despaired that "Camp Greg," as she called it, would never disappear. It took 4 years but, eventually, all was stored away. I now asked if Camp Greg could reappear for about 10 days as a place for me to sort the attic contents. Robin is a good friend and not only did she agree, Greg had a table and dolly ready for me to use. These are great neighbors.

Views of portions of the New Camp Greg

Then the sorting began. It was actually much easier than I thought it would be. I tackled the boxes of stuff-other-than-books first. I opened a box, took out what I thought I would want then texted photos of the rest of the stuff to family members in California and Oregon. I described each item, gave approximate sizes and history and then asked the key question - do you want it? Here are a few samples:

My dolls and clothes - Candy took them.

Garden tool hooks - Mary took them.

Aborigine bark painting from a 1968 trip to Australia and my brother's clock -
Pattie took the painting, Mary took the clock.

China from my Aunt Ethel. Candy will repair the broken creamer then pass them on.

An odd combination - a crucifix from a church in Rome and
a boomerang and spear head from that trip to Australia.
Steph took the boomerang, Pattie took the spear, Candy took the crucifix.

Celtic angel from Ireland - Loretta took it.

All went smoothly until this image appeared on text messages in California and Oregon:

This is an oil painting done many years ago by my sister-in-law Melinda. She gave it to my parents. When my Mom moved to Canterbury Woods after Dad died, she took it with her and hung it in her living room. When she died there was much jockeying among the 5 offspring to get it. Of course Melinda had the most right - she was the artist after all, but all 3 sisters wanted it as well. While we tried to come up with reasons why it best belonged to each of us, I took it off the wall to look at it more closely and there, on the back, written in my mother's handwriting, was the sweetest message of all: "For Donna." Of course, if I had been gracious, I would have quietly acknowledged it and then, just as quietly, put it in my pile but of course nothing like that happened. I whooped and hollered and bounced up and down as I pointed out the message, made sure each one of them read it, reveled in it as I walked around the room, parading as if I had just won the gold. I ignored my brother, Melinda's husband, who pointed out that I had, on many occasions, forged my mother's name when signing papers that couldn't wait until I was actually with her. Of course this was her writing! Ridiculous.

For the past 9 years I have been the proud owner of this painting and it hung in my living room in my sweet house in Pacific Grove. Now I do not have enough wall space. However, I am not stupid. I announced, in the text, that it would still be mine but if anyone wanted to "store" it on a wall in their home I would gratefully consider it - but it must be understood it remained MINE. Pattie answered first, "Are you kidding??? Of course I could find room!!"  Mary was next, "There is ALWAYS room for another Melinda painting." But then Melinda came in with "I will take that one!" The artist won out. She assures me that she knows it is mine and I can visit it whenever I am at her house which is good because I love it. Thank goodness I have 5 of her other paintings hanging in my wee unit. I couldn't go Melinda Miller Collins free. No way. If you don't know her work, go online at melindamillercollins.com. It is spectacular.

Then it was time to tackle the books. At the end of the day I had 7 boxes set aside to donate to the Carmel library, 9 to send to Oregon, 2 to give to Candy for the Mercy Retreat Center and 1 to give to Pattie. However, during the night, when I couldn't sleep, I reviewed what was in the boxes for Oregon. I didn't need 9 boxes of books. In the morning I went through all 9 and removed enough to add 2 more boxes to the pile for the library. It was with great relief that I schlepped all 9 boxes to the library and took 7 to the post office to mail to Oregon. Phew. Greg's dolly came in quite handy at both the library and the P.O.

So now I have about 7 plastic bins of things to take back to Oregon plus the dollhouse that Gary built for Stephanie. It is fragile, parts have become unglued, but I think Stephanie and I can restore it. I filled the rooms of the dollhouse with plastic air bags and packed the whole thing in bubble wrap. Oh I hope it survives the ride to Oregon.

It is done. I can't quite believe it. My goodness. Stuff-free.