Friday, July 24, 2015

Saying 'so long' to JP, but bringing the weird with us

Ah, we’re moving again.  It’s a great reminder that we have too much stuff, as well as the absurdity of the stuff that we own.  It’s also a reminder that my parents have a lot of stuff and that my mother is trying to foist a good percentage of it in our direction, sometimes while we are not looking.  Don’t try to question it: it’s one of her love languages.

Meanwhile, I say this as a person who has recently spent a good amount of time patting herself on the back for getting rid of the majority of her VHS collection.  I say the majority, because, yes, we do have AppleTV and Netflix, but we also still have a functioning VCR.  And no, you can’t always just replace some of those videos taped from TV!   I mean, can I view the Claymation version of Rudolph around the holidays without those 80’s M&M commercials included?  Yes.  Should I have to?  No.  (Please imagine the husband listening to this monologue as I say it aloud to myself on the floor of our living room.)  And Netflix doesn’t carry all the classics.  I mean, seriously, Easter Parade may only be in demand if you are an octogenarian, or me, but I need to watch it annually, so get it together, Netflix!

And then, there have been the other surprise items we own, things generally forgotten about, that emerged from our cabinets like old, weird friends on Facebook.  There was virtually an entire kingdom of bizarre crap covered in dust on the top shelf of our hutch.  It had been so long since he’d seen it that B didn’t even know what the hookah was, for example.  It was a housewarming gift from a Jordanian friend for my first apartment in Boston.  Then there’s the half yard beer glass from my grandparents’ trip to Germany.  While these pieces may be a little strange for display, I assure you they've both been used fondly at many a party, along with our porron, that fanstastic booze-guzzling gadget also from my grandparents' attic:

But do not try to imply that my Yul Brynner commemorative plate is too strange for display, because I currently lie awake at night wondering where his next uplit throne will be in the new house.

And in between all this packing, we also have had to have a few sad moments where we say farewell to the apartment itself; the charming walls that kept us safe and warm and happy, the good old bones of our first home together.  I guess we are both like our families in this way. We get attached to places.  They become infused with meaning.  In the ten years I’ve been in Boston, I’ve only lived in two apartments, after all.  We’ve seen our friends come and go in this neighborhood for the past four years.  We’ve made a lot of jokes about our very quiet neighbors across the street in beautiful Forest Hills Cemetery.  We’ve hosted birthday parties, holiday parties, and even engagement parties.  In short, we’ve eaten a lot of cheese and toasted a lot of friends as we went from boyfriend and girlfriend to husband and wife.  In our time here, I’ve made sure to take advantage of every fest Jamaica Plain has to offer.  I’ve been to Wake up the Earth Fest, the Fermentation Fest, Porchfest, JP Open Studios, the Lantern Fest; all the Fests.  We will miss living in Jamaica Plain in all its kombucha-brewing, art-creating weirdness.  We’ll still be able to visit of course, and without much effort, we’ll take some of the weirdness right along with us to our new home.