Computer Cowboy and I
are downsizing. Younger Dudes the only one left at home with Missy
Younger living in Tel Aviv, Older Dude living in Herzliya, and Missy Older, her
husband, and our grandbabies living in Beit Shemesh. We no longer need our
expansive flat.
Quantitatively, that
means were seeking to sell our six bedroom, four bathroom, one hundred
and sixty one meter place, and then to purchase an residence that covers about
half of that space, both per square meters and per room count. More exactly,
were looking for: eighty plus meters of area (although, one hundred would
be sweet), three and one half or four bedrooms (I need office space), and two
baths.
We also need a garden
level location or an apartment on a low floor and in an elevator building; my
knees are increasingly wonky. High floors wont work for us since
elevators sometimes break.
Furthermore, we need to
live in a religious neighborhood. We want easy access to synagogues, to stores
with a high level of kashrut, and, maybe, even to restaurants that are as
strict as we are in observing the laws surrounding dietary restrictions. I
would love, additionally, to dwell in a community where womens learning
groups, shiurim, and other enhancements to spirituality exist.
The good news is that
our change of address is unlikely to occur soon. Israelis are slow to vacate
and slow to occupy. Our friends estimate that our transition, even if we move
within our current neighborhood, could take an entire year.
The bad news is that
this change tugs along with it bucketfuls of loss. My kids grew up in this
manor. One of my grandkids had his brit milah here. Weve made friends in
these whereabouts and have merited to celebrated many smaachot, here, as
well. Whats more, my writing career rocketed here (Ive been writing
since I was eight, being paid for my publications since I was fifteen, teaching
writing at the university level since my early twenties, but only generating
creative work on a full-time basis since my late forties).
Whereas I can take my
memories with me and whereas my husband and I, relative to most of the folks
who were raised in the United States, are not particularly materialistic, we
still own too many personal paraphernalia to move all of them to a home half of
the size of our extant one. To wit, Ive been giving away wall art and
packing family photos. Our future domiciles limited wall space will
necessarily be covered by our many bookcases. As per our photo collection,
which has burgeoned beyond manageability, its been put on a
diet.
Namely, when our kids
were small, I made montages of each of them, for each of their first five years
of life. Consequently, counting only those montages, we own twenty, large-sized
pieces of wall art. Ive made myself pick my favorite three montages of
each kid (I later created more photo groupings than those first twenty) and
then box the rest. Hubby hated that I subsequently labeled the box to
open after parents are dead, but I need to put those other assembled
pictures into deep storage. Im resigned myself to letting my
sons and daughters figure out, in decades to come, what to do with those
images.
Were debulking
our religious books, too. Ive given away, to friends who are, or who have
children who are serious Torah scholars, many, many, many of these texts. Some
of those copies were left behind when our kids moved out. Other titles were in
Hebrew, hence, are of small use to Hubby and me, who carry on struggling with
the local lingo. Yet others, weve discovered, as we reshuffle our
possessions, are multiple copies of single titles. While were not moving
into a caravan, our moving into quarters smaller than our present abode will
cause us to have to allocate room for any of our personal property
judiciously.
In the meantime, Hubby
and I are sorting through other, easier to separate from, items.
That is, slowly, were going through the things we stored in our emergency
shelter and the things we stored in the stowage space off of our rooftop
mirpesset. Some Sukkot decorations went to a gemach. Some expired canned food
got tossed. Our air mattresses, too, went to the dumpster as the passage of
many years rendered them useless (that toss was an ouch as we slept
on those mattresses after moving here while awaiting our home furnishings to be
shipped over.) Im not going to worry about where our male guests will
sleep next Sukkot until I know we will have adequate room external to our next
home for a sizable sukkah.
Above and beyond the
aforementioned, well have to put aside with some of our bits and pieces
simply because they are worn out. Very little of what we have has resale value
weve never been interested in ownership for its own sake, and,
therefore, have many effects that have become, over, bayin tova, the
course of forty years, threadbare.
More specifically, our
sofas will either have to be reupholstered or donated to charities (Although
theyre less than fifteen years young, weve long since covered their
rips and tears by shrouding the entirety of them in sheets. Our futon, which is
closer to twenty-five years old, and which was a more significant investment,
similarly, will need to be recovered.) At least our spending on seating was no
misallocation of funds as our seating has been well used.
Moreover, its
probable that our fridge, our microwave, and our dishwasher wont make it
to our new address; original to our aliyah, theyre neither worth
repairing or transporting. Equally, I suspect we will have to buy new
mattresses, too, since the passage of time has brought many of them to the end
of usability.
Among the most painful
trappings, though, to parcel out are our childrens baby clothes. While I
chose not to save their American wardrobes, their cartons of toys, or others of
their baby and toddler paraphernalia, I did put aside one small box of
accoutrements for each of my four offspring. I had hoped that my children would
pass on the contents of those boxes to their own children.
Unfortunately, just as
my married daughter was unable to fit into my wedding gown (we have different
body types) and my unmarried was disinterested in it (we have different fashion
sensibilities), these baby things hold no appeal for our progeny. Likely, these
kits will wind up at a charity instead in the hands of our familys next
generation.
Meanwhile, most of our
dozens of potted plants, from fully grown trees, to medium-sized cacti, to
smaller clusters of perennials, have been rehomed. Our large mirpesset, which
comfortably seats fifty for smaachot, has been encircled with these green
friends during the decade plus during which weve lived her. Even though
weve kept a few dozen of our houseplants, with the understanding that
they, too might have to be abandoned, dependent on the manifestation or lack
thereof of outdoor space associated with our next lodging, weve
distributed the majority of them.
While the aforesaid has
been taking place, we have likewise gifted or donated: many members of our
lifelong collection of fabric animals, a handful of tables, and some clothing.
Very few kinds of belongings have escaped our efforts to reduce the number of
stuffs we own. Nonetheless, bits and bobs are the easiest loss about which to
write.
Its more
difficult to articulate how we would feel, if we found ourselves moving out of
our neighborhood. Our cherished, local friends, those folks whom we met at
synagogue, at lectures, and at other community institutions, are more precious
to us than are any of the objects that we are apportioning. Our regular
interactions with those dear ones are invaluable. We would grieve if we had to
move away from them.
Sure, regardless of
which among our goods we keep, and, more expressively, regardless of with which
of our friends we are able to stay in contact, we will, IYH, stay in Jerusalem,
that is, we will continue to live in this holy city. All things considered,
its valuable to remind ourselves that our lives, following our
relocation, will not be the same as they are now, but they will remain
wonderful.
This forfeiture comes
with a whisper of pleasant emotions. Consider that a new home leads to a new
life chapter, which, in turn, opens up new opportunities. Gam zu la
tova; this move, too, is good.
For today, our
apartment is still on the market. It might take a week, a month, or a season
before a potential buyer makes us a suitable offer. In the interim, between
that offer and our finding a new nest, I have sorting in which to engage. I
need to: pick over the contents of two physical filing cabinets, surgically
reduce the number of books Ive kept hold of from my days as a rhetoric
professor, and winnow various office supplies. I need to thin out my kitchen
gear, too.
Its incumbent on
me, as well, to take advantage of events with local friends and to pray
gratitude for my relationship with all of my beloveds. I dont write my
own lifes script. On balance, I can be appreciative for its twists and
turns.