Is tradition for all Americans synonymous with bulk, or is
that only in my house?
I consider myself a pretty sentimental woman, who didn’t
fall far from the tree. I’ve often
written about special things from my childhood safeguarded by my mother long
ago that my daughters are now lucky enough to enjoy, like my first ever Barbie
Dream House. But several years
into parenting myself, I’ve already accumulated bins of goodies… I mean crap… I
mean goodies… Geez, I don’t even know what it is anymore.
There is a fine line between holding onto items for
sentimental reason and because you deserve a spot on the season premiere of
Hoarders. Similarly, between real
tradition and yet another excuse for excess. Here’s an example.
Over a decade ago, my husband and I had a very traditional
wedding. We stated our vows in a
magnificent Roman Catholic church before an enormous group of family and
friends. I walked the aisle to
Pachelbel’s Canon, someone special read Corinthians 13:4 “love is patient,
love is kind” and after kissing the bride everyone, we celebrated at a reception
fit for a bridal magazine (IMHO).
Meanwhile, the UPS delivery man was hitting our small
apartment on a daily basis. Yet
another “tradition” we followed was to register for formal dining china,
service for 12. “Lenox Hannah
Platinum” it was called. Dainty,
beautiful, and a decade later still in it’s original packaging in my mother’s
basement.
There are several downsides to living on the opposite coast
as most of family. We miss way
more big events than we’d like, it is impossible to keep everyone happy at the
holidays and unless you plan, like, 10 years ahead, it is impossible to empty
all your crap out of your parents house before you leave. Joe and I planned on spending two years
in San Diego, not over a decade in Los Angeles.
Fast forward to last month when my frustrated family finally
hired a moving company to bring some cumbersome furniture, my wedding china and
a significant amount of crap to Los Angeles. (Let’s just say that if Kodak would refund me for all the
photos I've developed of people I no longer recognize, I’d have gone to college
for free.)
I freaked. I
don’t have a curio cabinet. I don’t
have an attic. I don’t have a
basement. I don’t even have a
freaking garage. What the hell was
I going to do with my wedding china?
This:
