Lee moved into his new man cave in January. His old cave, which was his studio/office/storage facility/private space while we planned and built the addition on my, now our home, was in our friends’ house around the corner. He moved there in October 2011 so that we didn’t have to go across the river and through the woods to be with each other anymore.
When I met Lee three years ago he was in the middle of moving from his home for over twenty years. His wife Caroline had died and his son had established his own life. He no longer wanted to be in a rambling empty house and he had recently renovated a two-bedroom apartment in a Victorian on a quiet but main street, in walking distance to all one could need — almost. One gathers lots of stuff in 60 plus years, and a lot of memories. He had filled his apartment with pottery and art and cool hand made things that he and his wife and son had created or bartered for. It was a very personal and comfortable space. We became the old couple who walked their big dogs through town.
Soon he made his second move, to his man cave around the corner. He minimized again, tossing some more, and moving large items into the barn he had built as the pottery studio at his old home.
Like Lee I’ve minimized several times. Even so, my home is still filled with furniture, dinnerware, blankets, and more that belonged to my parents and grandparents. I lived on the same street as my mother’s family, with grandparents, aunts and uncles, and cousins my own age who were playmates always near. We all spent summers together in a big house at the shore. Last year I broke the flowered pitcher that used to sit on my grandmother’s coffee table and I cried. I know the story behind every item that came from my family, or at least I once did.
Since my husband Clark was an only child, when his mother died, a moving van brought all of the contents of his parents’ house to our door. I still have much of it, and value it as a tangible connection for my sons to their father.
My sons Morgan and Alex saw my family and Clark’s family most likely two or three times a year, and once Clark’s folks moved to Florida, and the boys got involved in school and their own friends, perhaps once a year. We got together with grandparents for holidays and birthdays when they boys were young and the adults were healthy, and gatherings were always warm and fun. It was a different kind of family experience than mine.
I wear a wedding band from Clark’s family. I think it belonged to his grandmother – but which one? Morgan and Alex don’t know that my mom’s mother embroidered the raggy pillowcases in my linen closet when she was sick with cancer. They don’t know which dinner set belonged to my mom and which to Clark’s, or that the little scissors in the cup on my desk was the one my father kept in the middle drawer of his dresser, the only scissors in our house we could always find. They will recognize none of the people in the old photographs in the boxes of albums I have in the closet. I know so few in the boxes from Clark’s family. Sometimes my boys tell me stories that I passed on to them about people and things, and I look at them in wonderment. Did I tell them that? Is the story true?
Now that Lee has moved for a third time, into his new space on the first floor of the tower addition, he has picked through all he owns in the world after 66 years one more time. I don’t think he is as sentimental as I. Perhaps he is, but when thinking about it he is definitely more practical and efficient. He gets through it. I move on, but am never done.
His new space is a bit crowded and disorganized, and there are lots of unopened boxes and stuff piled under the staircase, but it looks great, is comfortable and cozy, and he’s enjoying it a lot. It will most likely stay that way until we’ve moved into the upper floors and all of our possessions mingle and spread evenly through the entire house. Then we’ll put pictures on the walls and sculpture on the shelves.
We did however integrate most of our kitchens. We’ve gone through the pots and pans and the dishes and glasses and mugs and mostly decided what to keep in the kitchen, what to store, and what to toss, although I haven’t yet made the plunge and tossed it.
The other evening we went through the spices and sauces. After combining jars and containers and throwing away items that had date stamps all the way back to 1998, we found we had:
- bottles of apple cider vinegar, as well as rice and balsamic
- canisters of sea salt, but no kosher or iodized
- jars of molasses
- extra virgin olive oils
- black bean sauces
- vanilla extracts
- baking powders
- crushed red peppers
- Lea and Perrins
- oyster sauces
- Hoisin sauces
- whole cloves
- herbs de province
- sesame seeds
- black pepper
- black beans
- sesame oils
We had singles of lots of common and uncommon treats, the most interesting of which are:
- Big O’s $787,000,000,000 Stimulus Sauce (contains no pork)
- Kotterin Mirin – did you know you only have to walk 11 minutes to burn off the 40 calories per serving of this sweet cooking seasoning? It is for glazes and sukiyaki. It has only 15 mg of sodium per tablespoon serving, but corn syrup is the first ingredient on the list. Funny thing – I just tried opening it see what it smelled like. It is still sealed. I didn’t open it. Maybe it’s a toss.
- Tiger Lily Buds – which he never has used, but how can one throw out something with such a sweet name. It may have to go though because I’ve looked at them on line and they are a different color than ours. Ours may be from Caroline’s mother’s kitchen which would make them at least twenty years old. Would Lee’s son want shriveled up flower buds from his grandmother’s kitchen, when he can just walk into a shop in Chinatown and buy them fresh?
- My favorite of all – Red Boat Fish Sauce. It is 100% First Press Extra Virgin ca cam (black anchovy) and sea salt.
Not wanting to take any responsibility or show any interest in what he considered a no-brainer project, Lee left the decisions of what to keep and what to throw away to me. We now have three cabinets full of sauces and spices as well as those in the refrigerator.
The only thing he did say as he flew out of the kitchen to hide in his man cave was “You can’t have two many extra virgins.”