Goodbye Garb and Magnificent Memories

I recently lost a few pounds. It was about time. As with all weight loss, both the skin and the clothes got loose. Ok...so both got loose and wrinkly. I've retired some pairs of pants after friends said I looked as though I had droopy drawers...not a good look on a senior. People might get the wrong impression. We elders have enough embarrassing issues.

I don't think I'm a very vain person. I also don't think that I'm terribly materialistic, but then everything's relative isn't it?

When it comes to clothing, I have a decent wardrobe. I like clothes. There was a time I barely had two outfits to wear to work (insert tiny violin playing here). There was also a time when I wore clothes out. That is now beyond the realm of my comprehension, but then, vinyl, barkcloth, terylene, crimplene were all the rage. Who ever thought those were a good idea and did they actually wear out or just disappear as some fads and fabrics should?

Now, rather than wear clothes out,  I eventually get tired of seeing the same outfits. It's like looking in the mirror every day and seeing the same old thing, but at least with clothing, we have a choice. We can get rid of the 80% we don't wear and the 20% we wear far too often. (a statistic I recently heard)

So it has been necessary to downsize my clothing along with my girth. I spent a few days test driving a lot of pieces to see what fit, what was still borderline, and what was unacceptable. I found a lot to give away. I also found some items that still work plus a few from a previous diet, an earlier size, and so on. Then there were a few....just a few that I know are too large, but went back into my dresser drawer. It made no sense, but there they are.

I think that most people who hoard "stuff" which they consider treasures do so because of the memories they stir up. The clothes that went back into my drawer had memories, fond memories. As I put each thing back, I had flashbacks of friends I was with, events I celebrated, and trips I went on while wearing the piece. I was not yet ready to say goodbye to everything.

There's a quote by Rachael Taylor that goes like this. "For me, clothing is nothing without the story behind it. Everything I own evokes some kind of memory."

Whereas Petticoat Lane and Diabetes Society have been the beneficiaries of much, my dresser drawer still contains a few....a few good memories of times gone by.

Undecorating and Reminiscing

A lot of people love decorating for Christmas. Although some enjoy it so much that they begin the day after Halloween, I prefer to wait a few weeks longer until Advent. Once Christmas is over, however, the complaints begin. "It's so much work putting everything away."

I don't think that way. I like to decorate for Christmas. I do find that I am often rushed to get everything set up. Because of that, I like to take my time removing all the trinkets and decorations. I organize them neatly, wrap them carefully and daydream.

Today was dismantling day. Since I was more or less forced to hibernate because of weather unfit for man or beast, I made the decision to begin. I took down some of my more modern and recent additions to the tree, items I had won along with the tree last year. 

Then I got to the good stuff. There were the special things which had belonged to, or reminded me of each of my children's grandparents.....dad's train, mom's tiny Christmas hymn book, grandpa John's favourite spinning ornament, and grandma Rose's miniature cookbook. There were my yearly purchases of fragile, usually gold decorations. I afforded myself the gift of one magical ornament a year even during my more financially challenged times. To me, the gold colour represented the wealth I had in my life, not financial wealth, but rather the blessings.

Another bauble shaped like a school house with a little bell is my only work related keepsake. It was engraved with my name, Merry Christmas, Anne-Marie and 1977. I recalled the student who gave me the ornament. She'd probably be about 43 years old now. I had also taught her brother Elvis. Yes, indeed, Elvis, a bold choice of name. I remember them well. I wonder what they're doing now.

I removed this year's new, recently purchased acquisition. I saw it in a small gift shop in a town near here. I put it in a special place on the tree. It was a bell shape, glass, white base, fluff to represent snow and the Eiffel tower inside. How does the quote go? "Paris is always a good idea." No, I've never been there. I bought it after I decided that my collection should take on a new direction. I wrapped it carefully and put it away.

Hubby and I chatted about the trees we had when we were kids. "I think my sister has some of our old decorations," he said.

"Really? I think we should go visit and see their tree next Christmas." I responded with curiosity. I'm hoping we get to do that.

I had seen some Chinese lanterns similar to what my parents had when at an antique store. No light cord, just the lanterns. My parents loved those lanterns. If I recall correctly, the cord was kaput before the lanterns burned out. Either that or it was one of those situations where if one bulb burns out nothing else works. They also had the candles. Ah yes, the multi-coloured electric bubbly candle lights which contained some kind of substance to make them bubble when they got hot. I remember several of them, mostly the blue I think, didn't ever bubble. No matter, they lit up and they were pretty. I loved them.

So now my bin, marked "Hilde's best and most fragile ornaments" is filled and ready to be put away. I can't believe I won't be able to enjoy these treasures again for another whole year. Perhaps I too should plan to get them out the day after Halloween.

The End of the Tail

I drove to a Mennonite farmers' market with my stepmom this week. For lunch, we went to a small town called Heidelberg. In the past, I have gone there once or twice a year, usually with friends and family for one of my all time favourite meals (don't gag)....pigtails. It's not something I would eat all the time, or even frequently. Pigtails are special. I discovered this delicacy during my youth. My university choir went to the pub following practice one night. A fellow chorister convinced me to try a bite. I was hooked.

Fond recollections are associated with the consumption of pigtails. That's part of the appeal of food isn't it? Many of our most pleasant and memorable times with family and friends are connected with celebrations involving food and drink. Our choir has had reunions at Heidelberg. Tables have been shoved together and we have imbibed, reminisced, laughed and eaten.

I remember going to Heidelberg several times with my friend Karla and her family members, some of whom lived in that area. Her father, Richard, loved pigtails so much that he ordered two or three dinners and then a few more individual pigtails. We called him "the pigtail eating champion". On one occasion, he consumed nine tails at one sitting. My own dad who was along for one of these feasts was in awe. Another time, Richard ordered "a pigtail for dessert" after having already finished a few meals. It didn't arrive. The waitress thought he was joking and we all had a great laugh as we kept trying to convince her that he was serious.

My parents liked the Heidelberg pub. They would sometimes arrange to meet with grandma Rose and grandpa John at this location. This ensured that grandma Rose would not go to her usual exhaustive efforts of cooking and baking for days upon hearing that my parents would be in the vicinity. Mom and dad also went to Heidelberg with visiting family members, grandparents and cousins from Europe, an aunt and uncle from Winnipeg and so on. It was a novelty since "Heidelberg" was also the name of a city near their hometown in Germany. From time to time, we'd go during Oktoberfest to hear the small town pianist attempt to play "Ein Prosit" and "Roll Out the Barrel". It all sounds fine after a few of pints of their hausbrau beer.

I've made countless treks to Heidelberg over the years. I've even been there with hubby who passed up the tails in favour of pork hocks. This week, as I mentioned, I went with my stepmom. We celebrated our family and friends, some of whom have gone their separate ways and many of whom are now deceased. We ate with gusto. We ate pigtails.

Yesterday, I looked at the photo that I had taken of my dinner. I realized that another chapter of my life has passed and that I don't ever need to consume pigtails again. It's not because of the fat and calories,although it should be, but rather because I realized that the meal really wasn't that special.

I had the revelation that it's not about food. It's about the experiences and the company that go along with the meal. The memories of the fun times, the people and the enjoyment of past visits are images that can only be remembered. They can never be replicated.

Two tails, sauerkraut, mashed potatoes, hold the gravy.