I have a confession to make....

I have a confession to make.  I’m an ugly American.  There, I said it and I feel relieved.  I know there must be a support group for this somewhere.   I wanted to write that “we” are ugly Americans.  “We” meaning all the inhabitants of this household in upstate NY, but I didn’t want a revolution on my hands.

Let me explain what I mean by “ugly American.”  8 TVs for 4 four people and two dogs? Come on now, who needs 8 TVs.  Some may argue that we are only 2 TVs over an acceptable limit.  Shirl would point out that we only paid for two of them with 6 TVs being inherited from family members who insist on upgrading the moment any new technology hits the store shelves.  For the last several years I have been tossing the word minimalist around claiming “I want to be a minimalist.”  I admit that I really didn’t know exactly what a minimalist was.  In my mind it would mean that we would consume less, get rid of all the junk in the basement and save some money.  It sounds good to me. 

I knew that I needed to start with me before I could get this family on board and in shape.  You know, lead by example.  The time is perfect because it is time to put summer clothes away and take out the winter clothes.  So, our bedroom closet was the obvious place to start.  Once I cleaned a few things out I could announce and share my minimalist experience with my family and we would be clutter free. 

Well, what started out as an episode of Clean Sweep quickly turned into an episode of HOARDERS.  We’re talking just my clothing here.  This is just a very, I mean very small sampling.  

 

  

It’s just horrifying. 

Here are some quick numbers 16 pairs of jeans, 14 black pants, 15 brown, 18 tan, 6 green, 10 grey, 4 blue and 2 white.  This does not include the 19 capri pants in various colors, shirts, shorts, sweatshirts, tennis clothes, hoodies, etc.  This is just the closet.  UGLY!!!!!!!! (I won't mention the 2nd closet in the office.) I decided that I would not count anything else. 

I have to point out that I don’t have to dress up for work and for the most part, I don’t. I definitely do not look like a fashion diva when I roll out of here in the morning.  I probably wear the same three pair of pants and five tops every week.  I also need to mention that I am not a shopper.  I live with someone who treats me very well, so my clothing just appears.  It’s always perfect and it always fits.  Just one more fact.  I take really good care of anything I own no matter how much it cost, so my things tend to last forever.  Come on.  I even have a coat that I bought in Lord & Taylor when I was 21.  It’s in excellent condition and I still wear it.  No, it’s not out of style.  

How much stuff does a person need? Or maybe the real question is, “What are all these possessions really about?” Are these material possessions physical shields to our inner emotions and vulnerability?  I don’t have the answers, but one thing I do know is that in one year and one month I will be 50 and it’s time to shed. I have one year to shed not only all this excessive clothing, but also any excessive material possessions and to lighten my emotional load.  Let's face it, that's the real issue here. I’ve been carrying too much weight for way too long.  I’ve already donated nine contractor garbage bags full of clothing from just this one closet.  

Shirl has agreed to stop shopping and buying me things.  (I told her the IPAD doesn't count.) There’s a lot more to go. With 19.3% of American households below the poverty line, it’s time that I stop being an “Ugly American.  Now what to do with all the extra hangers?

Staten Island, Indiana, Michigan, NYC and Susan

Did I tell you, not only do I love Facebook, I love my IPhone?  I have to admit that when Shirl surprised me with the IPhone, I thought to myself, “What am I going to do with this?”  How connected do I really need to be?  I’m not really all that crazy about cell phones (we all know that they are used as tracking devices) and I loathe voicemail.  So, I smiled, said thank you and tossed the phone to the side.  Well, a few days later I finally took the IPhone out and began exploring.  Well, over the past year, the apps on my IPhone have changed my life.  I mean literally change my life.  How?  Here’s just a few and I mean a few of the things I can now do with little or no effort:

• Find an ATM in seconds flat
• Locate my car when I forget where I parked it
• Divide the restaurant bill by three with a tip included. This can be difficult after a few glasses of wine.
• Find out what movies are playing at all the theaters by my house or yours
• Locate a Starbucks wherever I am
• Read the NY Times or the latest book loaded on my Kindle
• Lose weight.  I lost 8 lbs with “Lose It!"
• Run a 5K with no problem
• I can even access my facebook account. 

Hmm, FB on my IPhone. Why would I need that?  Oh yea, that’s what this blog is supposed to be about.

Let’s back up to last spring.   I was meeting my friend Ray in “the city.”  For those who are not from “the city” that means NYC.  Ah, you know…..The city that never sleeps, the big apple, my home, the best place in the world.  I had time to kill and I needed to find a bathroom.  So, I parked on 13^th Street and headed to the GLBT center where they are always willing to accommodate anyone who needs a bathroom, a support group or wants to attend a date bait session.  It’s the only place that I know of that you can empty your bladder with a bunch of transgender women who know how to apply make-up better than any naturally born women I know, go to a group therapy session, join the lesbian sex mafia (no, I’m not a member) and find a date all in one visit. Always a win, win. 

So, while I was waiting for Ray to get out of work, I decided not to attend date bait (Shirl would have killed me) and instead pulled out my IPhone and logged on to FB.  Much to my surprise, there was a status from my dear friend Susan Cox aka Sue Carter.  Apparently, she was in town from Michigan sitting on the other side of the island of Manhattan sipping a beverage with her husband in an outside cafe.  Now, I would have had no way of knowing such a fact if Susan had not posted her status. I cannot tell you how excited I was.  A few FB exchanges later and we were all set to meet later that evening. 

From 1979 to 1983, Susan was such an important part of my collegiate years at Valparaiso University in Indiana.  We tackled the many challenges of higher education together. We worked very hard those four years.  I don’t know two women who worked as hard as we did at having a good time and graduating in four years.  My backgammon game reached new levels during that time period. We pledged the same sorority and eventually lived off campus with other sorority sisters during our junior and senior years. We drank quarter beers and were out almost every night. 

The Wizard of Oz took on a new meaning and pink became a very significant color.  We cruised Mound Street, went to keggers, ate at Sambos, knew every drinking establishment in town, listened to Devo, REO Speedwagon, Styx, Phil Collins, Journey, Fleetwood Mac (my Rumors album melted on her turntable in the sun), the Suger Hill Gang and many other artists.  Who could forget ....


I said a hip hop 
the hippie the hippieto the hip hip hop, a you don't stop the rock it . 


We traveled to spring break in Florida driving her parents paneled station wagon filled with sorority sisters.  We had a few memorable trips to NYC and I loved going to her home in Michigan where her family treated me as if I was one of their own. Most of all, we laughed and had fun.  No, it wasn’t all easy.  We both had times when we struggled.  We helped each other though those times and I think we may have grown up a little.  Susan became the sister I never had. 

We haven’t always been the best at keeping in touch.  That doesn’t matter because whenever we do see each other it’s as if no time has passed.  The conversation always flows and we always laugh.  I have to add that Susan was in town for a writer’s conference.  She is a talented writer with a very successful career as a freelance writer.

So, later that night after my dinner with Ray, I headed to the East side and met Susan and her husband Mike where we shared a warm hug, great memories and many laughs. FB was the vehicle that made that happen. 

Visit Susan at http://www.coxadoodle.com/