Toys in the Attic
Attic in August 1996, right after
we moved in: a vast expanse of bare wooden
slats.
Attic in August 2006: Canyons of cardboard boxes. Five beat-up Army footlockers. Two dozen of my mother’s oil paintings. A plastic closet for off-season clothes. Plastic storage bins of toys, childhood
mementos, kid art works, family bric-a-brac,
tax records, books. A stable of
duffel bags, suitcases, carry-ons. More
boxes of off-season clothes and shoes.
So this is what happens when you stay in the same place for 10 years! Our attic is full. So is the basement, and every closet.
If you’re
a brat, I don’t need to explain the consternation and anxiety this can produce.
I want to
move. I want to rid myself of the detritus of living in one place too long. I want to start fresh. Inside
my house, I want to be surrounded by clean and spare. Outside my house, I want to be surrounded by
a world of new possibilities, undiscovered finds, new connections. God help me, I want to move.
One of
the benefits of moving, as we brats know, is the streamlining process: Not just the unburdening of
excess stuff, but the life examination that goes with it. It means sifting through everything one owns,
identifying which things are still important and which not. It means reviewing where I’ve gone and what I
want to carry forward with me. It means
taking stock of my location in life’s trajectory, and re-prioritizing.
That’s a
lot of work! Why on earth, when we brats
have lives as complex and over-full as anyone’s, do we take it on so willingly—initiate it,
even—and go for it over and over again?
I know, I
know—that doesn’t apply to everyone.
There are brats—I even know a couple--who have planted themselves in a
given spot and proclaim they have no desire to move ever again. In their sanity and wisdom they have decided
to grow where they’re planted. They allow
their lives to roll forward one day at a time, steadily building their
histories and their networks in their chosen place. Plainly, this commentary is not about them.
Right now
I am burning with a high fever of the got-to-moves, and there is no good
reason for it. My husband and I continue
to like the community where we live, as we enter our 12th year
here. He likes his job, and it likes him
back. We like our house well enough too,
if we overlook the repairs it needs.
We’re not in old age, ill, or averse to climbing stairs. Plus that, the local economy is not exactly a
seller’s market right now. See what I
mean? No good reason to move.
But I feel it comin’ on. Words such as inexorable, unavoidable,
unstoppable come to mind.
How do I derail this thing-which-makes-no-sense? Anybody out there have a word of advice?
Mary
Mary,
I too have the almost uncontrollable desire to move; again and again. Having just returned for two weeks of travel, one would think I would want to settle in. But, no......
Coming home from my trip this week made me want to clear out my excess baggage, pack and go somewhere unexplored. I have to admit that I love the "high" I get from packing and moving; the new beginnings.
I have also become very aware that after about a month and the "high" has worn off, I often feel compelled to return to the place I just left. A case of the "grass is always greener".
This is the reason I have moved from CA to HI and back over 5 times in 20 years. Once, I passed my baggage on Matson on it's way to the Oakland docks and I was already on a plane headed back to Hawaii. I got a 50% discount on shipping the baggage back as they didn't have to unload it.
What I try to do now, is recognize my need to move, using some techniques I've developed over the years. I allow myself to "Act As If" I were moving and I clean out my stuff, stuff and more stuff. I have a rule that says if I haven't used an item in a year, I get rid of it. Excluding of course any memory items from my children, family and other travels.
I also use the "Basket" technique. When I return home from traveling, my home always appears messy. I utilize baskets to put things away that are laying about. The rooms look neater, I've cleaned out the junk and I'm tired.
I also pretend my home is about to be inspected for a transfer, which means I have to really clean, walls, floors, etc. While I don't have to paste wax anymore, I'm so tired by the time I've completed it I'm less possessed to acutally pack and move.
All that being said, I too live in a comfortable home, on a beautiful piece of land overlooking the beautiful Pacific. Why it is never enough is my burden. I am now planning a road trip with my husband for next year to include all the Western States. Sometimes the planning is enough for me. I do have to be conscious that I am married to a Marine who lived in one place while growing up. I have to be careful not to bring my chaos into the relationship.
This is who we are and this is what we do. Reaching out and talking to someone who knows how we're feeling without having to explain ourselves is a gift we need to give ourselves on a regular basis in order to live comfortably in this civilian world. I am blessed to have Brat friends I can call on and I welcome contact with other Brats who need to talk.
Aloha,
Sandi
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Hi Sandi!
Back and forth from Hawaii to California 5 times in 20 years? What a brat! I'm going to try and take your advice about pretending the house is about to be inspected before a move, and see what happens. I'm having a yard sale this Saturday--the first in years--so I have that motivation as well. Some time next week I'll take stock again and see how I'm feeling about breaking camp and moving on.
I remember reading a news story once about a brilliant, eccentric mathematician who decided that having a home and even a job took too much time away from doing math, so he just travelled around with one suitcase and his bulging briefcase, going from the home of one top mathematician to another, staying with them for weeks or months at a time until the wife got fed up and the husband encouraged him to visit someone else. I'd wager that most civilians would think the guy lived a truly crazy lifestyle, but I saw in it an elegant, clean simplicity. I could never do such a thing myself--what? be dependent on other people? never!--but it does sound beautifully simple and focused, don't you think?
Stuff is such a dead weight on us, isn't it? Yet I continue to acquire stuff and fill up space. I probably deceive myself to imagine that moving would clear my head...it only works for a little while.
I think I'll post an excerpt from my book on this blog tomorrow--a part that has to do with following the instinct to roam. Meanwhile I'm going to do some more thinking about the nature of this anxious need to move that I'm experiencing. I have a feeling there's a lot more to be explored about this imperative of ours.
Mary
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The longest I've ever lived anywhere was 4 1/2 years in my entire life, and I'll be 43 this October.
I'm getting ready to move again soon and I've been here just under 4 years.
I would like to find that place that I could stand still at.
Maybe the next place is it...
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Hi April:
This last move to the Big Island has been the closest I've come to feeling like I might, just might belong. I think the attraction for me is that it is essentially an Asian culture, though many faceted. I lived for 4 years in Misawa, Japan, during an important developmental time of my life 10-14. I believe that the desire to re-live that time and place is what allows me to feel more at home here than in most other places.
Now at 55 years old, I'm beginning to know what I can't live with in a community. No cities, no traffic, no freeways, no far left politics in my face. I need a slow pace to allow my mind to slow down as I'm a type "A" and live so much in my head - I think this may be another character trait of we brat.
I hope you find your place. Perhaps you can determin what makes you comfortable - Have you ever gone on to www.findyourspot.com - It's great - check it out.
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New to this site, I still feel like I'm sitting in a room of long time friends. I really thank my fellow MB for tuning me into this spot.
I've been planted here for 30 years which is almost as many places I'd lived by the time I was 15 as an Army Brat.
Moving...I hate. I need these roots. My basement needs these roots...or a dump truck.
Travelling...I love cuz I can always come home till the next wild hare to boogie hits.
A fellow MB, who's so hooked into the life that as a civvie she is working onna Air Force Base, and I want to do a Thelma and Louise (minus the drive off the cliff) one day. SC to the wilds of a beautiful valley in the Jemez in New Mexico and back again...side tripping to the Grand Canyon and what ever lies betwixt.
I think us Brats NEVER get over the itch to roam that was ingrained as kids. I just happen to like to have a permanent base to report to from my TDY's.
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YES!!! Love travel, hate moving. My limit for time at one place, so far is about 8 years. I was about to set a new limit, at the place where I thought I'd set roots, when -what else? - I moved again.
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For years, I began to feel restless after 6 months or so in the same place. However, as a single mother with limited income and less job experience, I knew I could not move. So I rearranged my furniture! It worked for several years, and then my company transferred me to a place I had never lived before (I hadn't thought that such a place existed!).
I have now been 15 years in the same house, and have just recently started thinking about moving again. The prospect of sorting through all the accumulated stuff is still a bit daunting, however. Maybe 2 or 3 years from now...
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Mary,Cleaning the fridge is one of those moving things...I know I've lived somewhere too long when the tupperware sticks to the shelves...I rearrange furniture...when I can afford to I redecorate.It helps, but doesn't cure. Going on weekend volksmarches also helps...10K's anyone?
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I keep discovering things about living in a house long term that are embarassing because I think I should have noticed or figured them out long ago. The most recent shocker: One afternoon, when I clearly had too much time on my hands, I just happened to wonder if people ever vacuum their ceilings. I maneuvered the vacuum attachment up there as an experiment, moved it over to the large rectangular air vent, and was horrified when it peeled back the corner of what amounted to a thick gray pad of dust and fibers, leaving half the pad hanging down intact from the ceiling vent. Good Lord! Ten years' worth of gunk quietly collected itself up there as we came and went underneath. Who knew? As the machine sucked in the whole appalling thing, I imagined that settled civilians watching me would find my ignorance incredible. What can I say? They're right. So now, I have clean vents. And I wonder what the next revelation will be. I feel sure it will be something horrendously expensive--like finding out the roof needs replacing or some other horror that is bound to crop up the longer we stay here. I so want to move! The idea of a 10K hike is great, Donna--only I think at this point I would want to keep on going, and living out of a tent!
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Mary and fellow brats:
I just finished your book, Mary, and I have to say that I have awakened from an emotional sleep that began when my father retired in 1988. I lived in Germany from 1976-1978, and then again from 1984-1988. Like many brats, I moved around 10 times before the eighth grade. Although I have lived in my current town for almost 20 years, It has never felt like home.
Currently I teach. I've never gotten over that sense of depression, a curious angst, that has caused me to feel alientated even as I still live in this town at age 32. Friends have come and gone. I never keep in touch.
I have passed these years preparing for some "other" life, or set of circumstances, and I have reached the conclusion that I want to teach in English language schools abroad. I'm getting a master's degree (one more reason to stay here without really planning to stay). I teach a TOEFL class to Saudi and Turkish students in my spare time, which, I have come to realize, is just a way to "internationalize" my life a bit.
I haven't always managed things well, but I have come to realize that all I really want to do is travel and work abroad. I think this is the only way I'll get rid of that gnawing sense that I really don't belong. I've been in one place for almost 20 years and I still can't call it home. I have put off buying a house and starting a family because I keep telling myself I won't be here much longer.
For good or ill, I think my life will be best lived on the road. At least traveling from country to country as an English teacher will give me a bettter sense of things.
Or will it?
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Peter, I completely identify with what you've just written. I've lived in St. Louis now for 11 years--far longer than anywhere else--and while I do like this city very much, I can't say it feels like home. I do have a nice international dimension to my life thanks to my husband's academic profession--we have quite a few foreign students and professors come to our house, and we've spent my husband's sabbaticals overseas--but oh, how I long to go live in other countires, with a job of my own. Coincidentally, I just decided recently that if I'm going to stay here I have to do something that feeds me along these lines, so I collected some phone numbers to inform myself about becoming certified to teach English as a foreign language. Your comment, and my recent decision, make me wonder how many military brats are TOEFL trained.... I continue to struggle with the brat syndrome of not belonging...I will write another piece about it tonight or tomorrow and post it in this category.
Mary
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Mary,
Interesting reading, and some thoughts to share. When our moves were complete and we settled in Denver (Aurora) my mother announced that was it - she wasn't going to move again, and she kept her word. They lived in the same house from 1963 to 1993 when she passed away, and he only moved in '99 when it became too difficult for him to stay where he was any longer without assistance.
One memory that survives all this time is sealing boxes and footlockers at Sheppherd for the move to Aurora, I was fascinated by the strapping tape for some goofy reason (what did I know I was only 7). Skip forward to '99 when my brother and I are cleaning out the house after the sale. I found some of the same boxes and lockers we sealed in September of '62 prior to leaving the base. They'd never been opened, and I would wager that once they were put in place in the house they were never moved.
I had a bit of the desire to move initially, but a series of road assignments with my job (call them TDY's if you will) took that out of me. I still have a huge travel jones that overwhelms me from time to time and I just have to get on the road to go...somewhere. I don't know if that's a result of what we're talking about for you but it sure seems like it.
Much to think about, and thanks again for helping me walk that path.
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Mary, 11 years in St Louis and it still doesn't feel like home? Ha ha, In Seattle it took 20 years, and one day driving down the freeway, I thought, "huh, this must be home" but really more from a... feeling of default. I live in a 1920's house, filled with 1940's stuff, which is my way of creating what appear to be roots! On the other hand... I have this mysterious need to change my environment every couple of years, so I recycle my furniture and sell most of my antiques on ebay, and then get new old stuff! Yes I want a Norman Rockwell type of "home", with relationships that go back decades, but for we privileged ones, it's just different. I've had people comment on my apparent stability, reliability, dependability... and I think it's a heritage of my bratedness... you become confident and self-centered, despite your ever changing surroundings. (And we become expert at concealing the inner storms that almost constantly plague my type of MB.) Anyway-- this is gonna sound kind of HallMarky but home is not the town I live in or the box of sticks I sleep in. Home is you, and the bubble of warmth and caring you extend to those who are near you at the time. Michael.
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Wow. Just wow. I'm just reading 'Military Brats' and was seeking an email address for Mary so I could pass something along. Stumbled onto this blog. Wow. Feels like home....absolutely terrifying and comfortably familiar at the same time. This string especially....I am 48 this year. Moved to New Zealand 7 years ago. When I did, it was the 30th move of my life. I have been here longer than I have ever been anywhere. I am committed to staying, to growing roots. To seeing a place in video rather than snapshot. It has been an amazing experience. Every place I have lived I remember as a still image...nothing ever changed, nothing ever shifted because I wasnt there long enough to experience that. Now I look around my 'home' and I remember things not like they are now. I see this place in 'video'. It is dynamic. It breathes. Does anyone understand that? But it's a challenge. I have never had real friends because no one has been around long enough to develop into that. Every one and everything has been transient. Now I find myself stumbling through the unknown territory of.....duration. There are people here that I have history with. I'm not sure I know what to do with that.
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Maggie-Lee, I love the way you put that: Stumbling through the unknown territory of...duration. I also love your Every place in the past feels like a photograph, trapped in stillness, and the place you've lived now for seven years, longer than anywhere, is everchanging, like a video. That's perfect. It precisely expresses how I feel about the places I've lived versus the place I live now. Thank you, Maggie-Lee, for your insight. I wish I could add some wisdom about how to deal with "duration," as you put it--but I am as baffled as you.
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It is baffling isn't it. My workplace commonly has visiting academics that come for a 3 month period. I am the supreme hostess for visitors. They love me. I love them. Because I know that this is going to last for 3 months and then they will go away again. Its the other people that are a problem. People that belong here. (What is it to belong?) They just don't go away. It's hard to shed skin and reinvent yourself when everyone around recognises the old skin.
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I was driving home mid-day for a quick lunch break with the radio on. The DJ was commenting that they were repainting their laundry room and taking care to avoid painting over the marks on the doorframe that documented the yearly growth of her children. It struck me that this is something I never experienced. The passing of years on doorframes seems only relevant in the civilian world.
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Good point! My husband, who basically grew up in one house, was the one who would put marks on the doorframe to mark our children's growth--but I could never be bothered. It was a nice, cute thing to do, I could see that--but I couldn't retain the idea long enough in my head to follow through on it myself. In fact, even though there are a few marks on a doorframe measuring our sons's growth over the last decade, I can't remember which doorframe. Your comment makes me see why. Putting marks on a doorframe is done as a way of marking time in a given place. What a concept! Way too challenging for a lot of us brats. So how did we mark our own march through childhood? Stamps on passports? Stickers on footlockers?
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Hi, I am reading, "Military Brats". It just speaks to me. My father was in the Navy. Moving was a black hole for me, although the experience of travel was great in many ways. I still feel invisible and like an outsider at times. I recently counted up my various addresses - 39 by the time I was 40. (18 states and 2 foreign countries). And I know that some people moved more than I did!
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I do think it is a little sad, that in these days of increased security, most brats, unless they have an ID card, cannot drive by the quarters that were, to them/us home on bases all over the US. Connecting to a base, and what grade(s) we were in when we lived there, is as real to us as notches to measure growth are to our civilian counterparts.
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I come from the culture that moves the most in North America. I understand the "got-to-move" impulse. Some of us just need to change scenery once in a while. But as you said, some things should keep you where you are right now. Why don't you change the colors of your rooms, buy new furniture, move it around? Transform that attic in a usable room for crafts, or reading, or whatever. Just add a little new, and you might feel relieved.
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Dear Mary,
I love to move, too! Now that I am retired I am thinking about where to go and I realize now, I can go anywhere! We moved all through our careers because we are teachers and can go anyplace to teach. After three children came into our lives and we finished advanced degrees, we finally settled down in Alaska. But 25 winters mean it's time to move now. But where? Two siblings stayed in California where Dad retired so long ago. They have never moved once since their first jobs/college. One brother was in the air force, then an airline captain, so he moved all the time. He finally settled down in the south. The california two think we are weird to move so much, and we wonder why they don't.
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