Some time ago I read about a man who gave up buying things for a year. He bought food, of course, and necessary medicines, and gifts for other people, but nothing else. Then last fall I read about a group of friends in California (where else?) who signed a compact to not buy anything new for a year. They allowed themselves to buy services such as haircuts and going out to eat, but no new things, only used or recycled things. They bought used gifts for people, even re-cycled brake pads for their car. The whole idea intrigued me and I decided to give it a try.
For 2007 I am not shopping for new things: no clothes, shoes, dishes, towels, books or furniture. I am not buying anything that will add to the burden of possessions I already own. I am spending money on food, medicine, gifts (even new items for gifts), and lattes. I am paying to have my hair done. And, as I pointed out to my husband, I have no prohibition against other people buying things for me.
So how is it going? Well, I did pretty well in January. I bought a new battery for my car because it needed one and I need my car to get to work, and I'm not sure I could have found a re-cycled battery. Then I bought new eye glasses, but only because my old ones broke and couldn't be fixed, and anyhow my vision insurance paid for most of them.
Norah Jones released a new album. I probably wouldn't have noticed, but both my kids pointed it out to me because they know I really liked her previous albums. But I wouldn't buy it. My son offered to get it for me for Mother's Day, which was really sweet of him, but then I remembered the itunes gift card my daughter got me for Christmas, so I ordered the album from itunes. I figured that wasn't really buying it because the gift card had already been paid for.
I went to Best Buy today and bought my son a birthday gift. That was a challenge. Any number of items caught my eye, but I didn't buy anything else. Then I went to the Barnes and Noble book store next to Best Buy, and that was really a challenge. So many interesting books! I almost bought one as a gift for David, but I put it back. He hadn't asked for it, and I really just wanted to give it to him and then borrow it back to read myself. I have unread books at home, so I was strong.
I've started a list of things I might want to buy in 2008. The funny thing is, I've already forgotten about most of the items I've put on the list.
My husband is quite amused by all this. He says he will shop twice as hard to make sure the economy doesn't suffer.
I plan to continue one month at a time. I will be saving money, time and energy. I will be enjoying the possessions I already own. I'll keep you posted.
I don't really have a poem about not shopping, but this poem amuses me, so I'm sharing it:
From “The Walrus and the Carpenter”
‘The time has come,’ the Walrus said,
‘To talk of many things:
Of shoes—and ships—and sealing wax—
Of cabbages—and kings—
And why the sea is boiling hot—
And whether pigs have wings.’
Lewis Carroll
Friday, February 02, 2007
Tuesday, December 19, 2006
Happy New Year
When I was three I got a baby doll for Christmas - or it may have been my birthday which is right before Christmas. I already had one baby doll that I had cleverly named "Dolly", so I named the new doll "Big Dolly". My mother told me it was nice to have two dolls, but that there was a little girl she knew who didn't have any dolls at all and suggested that I give my old doll away. We washed and dressed "Dolly" and set off up the street. I remember very clearly a thin woman in a housedress with a little girl behind her skirts. I gave the little girl "Dolly" and, after some prodding from her mother, she thanked me. Then my mother and I walked home, me clutching "Big Dolly" to my chest. I had lots of dolls through the years, but have never forgotten the first one.
When my children were young I asked them one year to clean out their toy boxes between Thanksgiving and Christmas and to donate any unused toys to the Salvation Army so that there would be room for new toys from Santa. I found out later that my son went to school and told his teacher, "My mother says if I don't give away half my toys, Santa won't bring me anything." I hope she understood what I was trying to teach him.
I still get bouts of nervousness when I think I have too much stuff, or too many unused items around the house. Having is nice, but sharing is nicer.
I went to my diabetic education class today, and found the following poem on the door:
To leave the old with a burst of song;
To recall the right and forgive the wrong;
To forget the things that bind you fast
To the vain regrets of the year that’s past;
To have the strength to let go your hold
Of the not worth while of the days grown old;
To dare go forth with a purpose true,
To the unknown task of the year that’s new;
To help your brother along the road,
To do his work and lift his load;
To add your gift to the world’s good cheer,
Is to have and to give a Happy New Year.
---Author Unknown
When my children were young I asked them one year to clean out their toy boxes between Thanksgiving and Christmas and to donate any unused toys to the Salvation Army so that there would be room for new toys from Santa. I found out later that my son went to school and told his teacher, "My mother says if I don't give away half my toys, Santa won't bring me anything." I hope she understood what I was trying to teach him.
I still get bouts of nervousness when I think I have too much stuff, or too many unused items around the house. Having is nice, but sharing is nicer.
I went to my diabetic education class today, and found the following poem on the door:
To leave the old with a burst of song;
To recall the right and forgive the wrong;
To forget the things that bind you fast
To the vain regrets of the year that’s past;
To have the strength to let go your hold
Of the not worth while of the days grown old;
To dare go forth with a purpose true,
To the unknown task of the year that’s new;
To help your brother along the road,
To do his work and lift his load;
To add your gift to the world’s good cheer,
Is to have and to give a Happy New Year.
---Author Unknown
Saturday, November 18, 2006
The Library of Congress
When my son was in high school he was given an assignment to "shadow" someone at work for a day and write about the experience. Most of the students followed a parent at work, which is what my daughter had done a few years before. David, however, chose to spend the day with the owner/manager of a small, used-book store where we frequently buy books. He got along well for the day, and Edie enjoyed his company so much she offered him a job. He ended up working there on and off for about eight years.
Now in his last year of college, David needs to complete an intership before he can graduate. He applied at the Library of Congress, because that seemed like a good fit for him. He loves books of all sorts, and is really quite organized. This week they called and offered him an internship with their Folk Life Project. It's not a paid internship, but you never know. Maybe it will be like the book store, and eight years from now he will still be there.
And now a couple of poems about work:
Like the star
Shining afar
Slowly now
And without rest,
Let each man turn, with steady sway,
Round the task that rules the day
And do his best.
Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
To Be Of Use
The people I love the best
jump into work head first
without dallying in the shallows
and swim off with sure strokes almost out of sight.
They seem to become natives of that element,
the black sleek heads of seals
bouncing like half-submerged balls.
I love people who harness themselves, an ox to a heavy cart,
who pull like water buffalo, with massive patience,
who strain in the mud and the muck to move things forward,
who do what has to be done, again and again.
I want to be with people who submerge
in the task, who go into the fields to harvest
and work in a row and pass the bags along,
who are not parlor generals and field deserters
but move in a common rhythm
when the food must come in or the fire be put out.
The work of the world is common as mud.
Botched, it smears the hands, crumbles to dust.
But the thing worth doing well done
has a shape that satisfies, clean and evident.
Greek amphoras for wine or oil,
Hopi vases that held corn, are put in museums
but you know they were made to be used.
The pitcher cries for water to carry
and a person for work that is real.
Marge Piercy
Now in his last year of college, David needs to complete an intership before he can graduate. He applied at the Library of Congress, because that seemed like a good fit for him. He loves books of all sorts, and is really quite organized. This week they called and offered him an internship with their Folk Life Project. It's not a paid internship, but you never know. Maybe it will be like the book store, and eight years from now he will still be there.
And now a couple of poems about work:
Like the star
Shining afar
Slowly now
And without rest,
Let each man turn, with steady sway,
Round the task that rules the day
And do his best.
Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
To Be Of Use
The people I love the best
jump into work head first
without dallying in the shallows
and swim off with sure strokes almost out of sight.
They seem to become natives of that element,
the black sleek heads of seals
bouncing like half-submerged balls.
I love people who harness themselves, an ox to a heavy cart,
who pull like water buffalo, with massive patience,
who strain in the mud and the muck to move things forward,
who do what has to be done, again and again.
I want to be with people who submerge
in the task, who go into the fields to harvest
and work in a row and pass the bags along,
who are not parlor generals and field deserters
but move in a common rhythm
when the food must come in or the fire be put out.
The work of the world is common as mud.
Botched, it smears the hands, crumbles to dust.
But the thing worth doing well done
has a shape that satisfies, clean and evident.
Greek amphoras for wine or oil,
Hopi vases that held corn, are put in museums
but you know they were made to be used.
The pitcher cries for water to carry
and a person for work that is real.
Marge Piercy
Thursday, November 09, 2006
We Won
I dragged my son out of bed Tuesday morning to vote. He didn't want to vote, didn't like either of the candidates, was tired of voting for people who didn't win, etc., etc., being his usual Mr. Contrary Man. I drove him to the polling place and threatened to leave him to walk home unless he voted for the right man. Now that control of the Senate has come down to who wins the Senate race in Virginia I'm telling my son that it is his vote that made the difference. His, and the votes of 7000 other good citizens who maybe didn't think voting was worth the trouble, but who voted anyhow.
So, I don't want to gloat, but my spirits were definitely lifted by the election results.
By Robert Browning:
The year’s at the spring,
And day’s at the morn;
Morning’s at seven;
The hill-side’s dew-pearl’d;
The lark’s on the wing;
The snail’s on the thorn;
God’s in His heaven—
All’s right with the world!
Siegfried Sassoon
Everyone Sang
Everyone suddenly burst out singing;
And I was filled with such delight
As prisoned birds must find in freedom,
Winging wildly across the white
Orchards and dark green fields; on, on, and out of sight.
Everyone’s voice was suddenly lifted,
And beauty came like the setting sun.
My heart was shaken with tears, and horror
Drifted away…O but everyone
Was a bird; and the song was wordless; the singing will never be done.
So, I don't want to gloat, but my spirits were definitely lifted by the election results.
By Robert Browning:
The year’s at the spring,
And day’s at the morn;
Morning’s at seven;
The hill-side’s dew-pearl’d;
The lark’s on the wing;
The snail’s on the thorn;
God’s in His heaven—
All’s right with the world!
Siegfried Sassoon
Everyone Sang
Everyone suddenly burst out singing;
And I was filled with such delight
As prisoned birds must find in freedom,
Winging wildly across the white
Orchards and dark green fields; on, on, and out of sight.
Everyone’s voice was suddenly lifted,
And beauty came like the setting sun.
My heart was shaken with tears, and horror
Drifted away…O but everyone
Was a bird; and the song was wordless; the singing will never be done.
Saturday, November 04, 2006
Some Poems
Three poems today, two for Halloween and one for the midterm elections.
(I realize I posted one of these poems recently, but I like it, so I'm using it again.)
Don't forget to vote!
Karl Krolow
Someone
translated by Herman Salinger
Someone, in the twilight, is taking a walk
And singing.
The wolf from the fable
Is in flight.
The wild plum thickets
Hover before him.
The man in the moon
Starts up out of the yellow straw
Whenever anyone goes past.
The wind’s hand rubs
The hazel nuts
Whenever the darkness
Likes anybody.
Somebody takes the night
Upon his shoulders,
Gives love her names,
And the hands of the dead
Begin again in the dust
To stir.
Charles Simic
Something Large Is in the Woods
That's what the leaves are telling us tonight.
Hear them frighten and be struck dumb
So that we sit up listening to nothing,
Which is always more worrisome than something.
The minutes crawl like dog fleas up our legs.
We must wait for whatever it is to identify itself
In some as-yet-unspecified way
As the trees are rushing to warn us again,
The branches beat against the house to be let in,
And then change their minds abruptly.
Think how many leaves are holding still in the woods
With no wish to add to their troubles
With something so large closing upon us?
It makes one feel vaguely heroic
Sitting so late with no light in the house
And the night dark and starless out there.
Sheenagh Pugh
Sometimes
Sometimes things don’t go, after all,
from bad to worse. Some years, muscadel
faces down frost; green thrives; the crops don’t fail,
sometimes a man aims high, and all goes well.
A people sometimes will step back from war;
elect an honest man; decide they care
enough, that they can’t leave a stranger poor.
Some men become what they were born for.
Sometimes our best efforts do not go
amiss; sometimes we do as we meant to.
The sun will sometimes melt a field of sorrow
that seemed hard frozen: may it happen for you.
(I realize I posted one of these poems recently, but I like it, so I'm using it again.)
Don't forget to vote!
Karl Krolow
Someone
translated by Herman Salinger
Someone, in the twilight, is taking a walk
And singing.
The wolf from the fable
Is in flight.
The wild plum thickets
Hover before him.
The man in the moon
Starts up out of the yellow straw
Whenever anyone goes past.
The wind’s hand rubs
The hazel nuts
Whenever the darkness
Likes anybody.
Somebody takes the night
Upon his shoulders,
Gives love her names,
And the hands of the dead
Begin again in the dust
To stir.
Charles Simic
Something Large Is in the Woods
That's what the leaves are telling us tonight.
Hear them frighten and be struck dumb
So that we sit up listening to nothing,
Which is always more worrisome than something.
The minutes crawl like dog fleas up our legs.
We must wait for whatever it is to identify itself
In some as-yet-unspecified way
As the trees are rushing to warn us again,
The branches beat against the house to be let in,
And then change their minds abruptly.
Think how many leaves are holding still in the woods
With no wish to add to their troubles
With something so large closing upon us?
It makes one feel vaguely heroic
Sitting so late with no light in the house
And the night dark and starless out there.
Sheenagh Pugh
Sometimes
Sometimes things don’t go, after all,
from bad to worse. Some years, muscadel
faces down frost; green thrives; the crops don’t fail,
sometimes a man aims high, and all goes well.
A people sometimes will step back from war;
elect an honest man; decide they care
enough, that they can’t leave a stranger poor.
Some men become what they were born for.
Sometimes our best efforts do not go
amiss; sometimes we do as we meant to.
The sun will sometimes melt a field of sorrow
that seemed hard frozen: may it happen for you.
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