Monthly Archive

It is exactly 50 years since September 11, 1973, when the United States government helped topple and kill the democratically elected president of Chile, Salvador Allende, in order to install a dictator more to its liking.

In his 17-year rule, Augusto Pinochet had over 3,000 of his countryfolk murdered and tens of thousands more tortured, and the specter of Chile was felt wherever the CIA and US flexed their muscles, as they often did, during those decades. I wonder what Chile, South America, Latin America, and the United States’s relationship with these countries would be like today if not for that coup.

Some years–those ending in a 1, especially–I think a lot about September 11, 2001. And some years, that earlier 9/11 dominates my thoughts.

Yes, I definitely enjoy this medium more than the acrylics I used for the first version. I’m not sure whether that’s because I prefer a stick of pigment to a brush, or oils to acrylics, or both, I’d have to try brush painting with oils to find out. I have oil paints, but it’s been a long time since I used them (since high school? Can it be that long?), and I balk at the thought of all that mess. Turpentine, feh.

My dad has painted with water-mixable oils–I had never heard of them until he mentioned them, and still find the concept a little wild–and if I really do decide to do some oil painting, I might get a tube or two and try those. But for now, I am loving oil pastels.

With some trepidation, I share this piece in a rough state, only half-dressed, as it were. It’s all part of my self-therapy to heal from perfectionism.

Having opened my mail to a headline that made me literally cry out, “Oh, god, no!,” I just sent this to my Congresswoman.

Dear Ms. Pelosi,

I am extremely distressed that you are running for re-election. We have effectively been deprived of one of our senators for several years; Kentucky is now in the same boat. With all due respect, Ms. Pelosi: it is unwise, and deeply unfair to us your constituents, to seek to remain in office until your 86th year. If for no other reason than leaving while your abilities and dignity are intact, instead of after aides have to vote for you, speak for you, and gently usher you from the room when you are trying to do your job, please retire now, on your own terms.

It is tempting to think of oneself as indispensable. But none of us is. Another fine leader will represent San Francisco, just as others did before you entered politics. Please make room for them now.

Everyone up and down not only California, but the country, is saying of Senator Feinstein, “Isn’t it sad that she served so faithfully for so long, and that instead of her accomplishments, what we will remember is how she hung on when she was deep in dementia?” Is that how you want your career in public service to end?

Sincerely,

Rev. Amy Zucker Morgenstern

I have lived 20 years in the Bay Area and 13 in San Francisco, all of them as a leftist, without seeing a performance of the San Francisco Mime Troupe. Until today! We went to Dolores Park to see their Labor Day performance, and enjoyed a packed lunch, the always-gorgeous weather of these three square blocks, and the view of the city, along with the play. A couple of hummingbirds were hovering and perching in the tree closest to us, and a dragonfly kept circling in the area, looking about the same size as the hummingbirds. Our blanket even got a visit from a beautiful butterfly.

The play was sardonic and funny, taking on–among other things–the upside-down idea, promoted by numerous “news” sources like Fox, that San Francisco’s problems stem from overly progressive leadership.

In addition to finally experiencing this institution of rabble-rousing art, being there was a great opportunity for reading (before the show) and drawing.

A few months ago, one of my audiobook apps suggested the book Nobody Wants Your Sh*t: The American Art of Decluttering Before You Die. The author, who calls her(?)self Messie Condo, is very funny, straight-shooting, and potty-mouthed. I really enjoyed it, and she has already had a significant effect on my approach to, well, my sh*t.

Even without having read The Gentle Art of Swedish Death Cleaning, I realized that Nobody Wants was the cut-to-the-chase, cut-the-crap presentation of the same concept. That concept, put simply, is that one day, after each of us dies, someone will have to go through all of our stuff and decide what to do with it. That someone will probably be a person we dearly love, such as our spouse, child, or best friend. So as we make choices about what to acquire, keep, or discard, and how to organize it, we would do well to consider our stuff in this light.

I’ve read enough accounts of people who mutter curses as they go through their recently-departed loved ones’ things to know this is spot on. (Blogs by children of people with hoarding disorder are a whole subgenre.) It is already emotionally laden, difficult work. It doesn’t have to be a monstrous chore as well. I hope it will be many years before anyone has to go through my closet saying things like “Why the heck did she have five pairs of shoes too worn out to wear?,” but when the day comes, I’d like such moments to be kept to a minimum.

While “Messie Condo” has plenty of sardonic comments to make about improving the posthumous chapter of our relationships, what really inspired me was her encouragement for us to have a better relationship, now, with our own possessions. As her name indicates, she is less than reverent towards Marie Kondo approaches such as folding one’s underwear. But she does put a rather Kondo-ish frame around what we keep and what we don’t. She (Condo) advises us to go through our clothes, accessories and jewelry noticing which ones we actually love and wear all the time, and which ones we pass over for one reason or another, yet never give away to someone who would actually love them. She called BS on the reasons I keep these things: I spent a lot of money on that sweater. I like that skirt–okay, not as much as 90% of my other skirts, but it’s nice enough. Those earrings aren’t really my style, but they’re pretty, so surely I’ll wear them one of these days. That dress would be perfect for a truly formal, black-tie occasion–never mind that I never go to any such events. Et cetera. I have a lot of things like that. I loved her reframing: when you purge your drawers (closets, jewelry boxes) of those things you keep skipping over, everything that is left is something you love to wear. And that, she promised, is a really great feeling.

The first category of stuff I applied it to was jewelry. I showed my daughter everything that didn’t pass my “love it!” test, and she took a few things. As for the rest, now I have a bag of jewelry to give away. That’s nice in itself–to know that whoever has it next will really love it and wear it. As for what’s left, every pair of earrings, every pendant, every bracelet, is something I actually love to wear. Opening my jewelry box is like going into a shop where every single item is crafted to fit my taste–except that instead of having to buy any of it, I already own it! It is a great feeling.

She’s not doctrinaire about those things we keep for rare occasions. Go ahead and keep the black skirt suit you’ll never wear except to a funeral, she says. If the occasion comes for it, the last thing you’re going to want to do is go shopping, so you’ll be glad you have it in the back of your closet. That particular example doesn’t fit my situation, since I love black and wear it a lot (and also, sadly, participate in a lot of funerals), but you get the idea. It’s okay to keep things we’ll hardly ever use, but that’s no excuse for keeping things we’re honestly never going to use.

I also found Ms. Condo humane and helpful in regard to those sentimental items that can burden the next generation if you’re not careful, but that you can’t, just can’t, toss, yourself. In that category for me are three stuffed animals I’ve had since I was a small child–one, I believe, was my then-three-year-old sister’s gift to me upon my birth, though I might have my family lore mixed up–and with this book’s wisdom backing me up, I popped into my daughter’s room.

“I want you to know that you can throw away Paddington, Mouse, and Dachy when I die,” I announced.

“Oh…kay,” she said.

“I am never going to be able to do it,” I said. “They would look at me reproachfully. But they’re connected to me, not you. Once I’m gone, they can go too.”

“Got it. Good to know,” she said.

“I don’t want you to be stuck with my stuff,” I explained.

“Thank you,” she said.

It should be said that my child has a brisker, more balanced, far more sane attitude towards things than I do. She’d probably be okay without this explicit permission. But I needed to give myself the permission to give her the permission, and this book helped.

There’s lots in the book about dealing with your papers, computer files, and such too, but I’m focused on my possessions.

We packed up most of our clothes before traveling this summer, since our renters needed room in the drawers and closets for their stuff. Now that I’m back, pulling my things out of boxes has been a great opportunity to look at every single piece of clothing I own and consider whether I am ever going to wear it, or whether I should just give it away because while it’s a cute t-shirt, it is my least favorite and I’m always going to pass it over for one I like better. I could no doubt have been more ruthless, but I put a lot of things in that category into the give-away box. Again, after Munchkin has had a look to see if she wants any of them (doubtful), I’ll bring them to the thrift store.

And it’s time to take photos of all that jewelry in the give-away bag and post it on Buy Nothing.