I got a good laugh today! I was chatting with my mom, who is still in “whisper” mode due to a “sprained voice” (a megaphone is soon to become involved) and she mentioned that my stepdad contributed a little bon mot regarding my shopping for “stuff” for the new house—replacements for the stuff staying at the house.
He said there is an old observation from back in the day that if you see a guy at the Goodwill buying a steak knife, a fork, a spoon, a frying pan, and a glass, he’s just gotten a divorce! I was picturing this shopping excursion and the visual was pretty amusing. Then, I pictured him on this shopping excursion on the occasion of his divorce in the early 1970s, and it became hysterical. And, while not reflected directly in my case, there is some parallel.
I guess I say that because my stepdad, who is a fabulous father and a terrific man, is like most straight men I’ve known and has fairly simple needs. Men seem to need their chair, a remote control, beef in the ‘frig, and their toys. Rich or poor, they are no different, they just spend different amounts on those needs. I don’t think he came into our home with much other than his gun collection, his clothes, his little color television (this was our first), and his dog. He was perfectly content that way too. I think when they finally carry him out, hopefully a long, long time from now, he’ll leave behind the same possessions he came into our life with.
It’s caused me some curiosity as to why women feel compelled to spend their individual shares of the billions spent each year on home decorating and improvement. Is it a throwback to our “nesting” instincts from days when we tidied the cave and decorated with hunting art or beautified our huts with a bearskin or two?
My plans are big for the new place. Primarily, de-wallpapering and painting will occur immediately; my sanity lies in the balance. The current paper is everywhere, and is circa 1985 “country”—ducks are involved. Then there’s the nightmare-inducing powder blue, white, peach flowery wallpaper all over my bedroom. Anyone who knows me knows how much I'm lovin' that.
As you might imagine, I had to envision the future in a fairly big way to finally decide on this place. It has “good bones,” is in a great neighborhood, has a convenient floorplan, and has great light. As a bonus, it has a place for my art studio and my desk. I’m almost giddy with anticipation on where I will hang my favorite art pieces and what kind of shelf liner I’ll select. Bed sheet shopping took me a full four hours yesterday. My “stuff,” of which there is way, way more than a single place setting and a .357 Magnum, goes happily. As a proud recipient of the nesting chromosome, I’m all about making a “home” and not a place to drop by to have a steak and catch a little football! But, while dedicated to the cause, there is still some small part of me that envies my stepdad’s simple needs.
When I speak of home, I speak of the place where -- in default of a better -- those I love are gathered together; and if that place were a gypsy's tent, or a barn, I should call it by the same good name notwithstanding.
~ Charles Dickens
Originally Published: Feb 27, 2006
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