Feb. 7, 2010 Fitzgerald's socks

There is an art to choosing the evening's reading material. It's best performed when in possession of more than 300 books that simply cannot be parted with, having the kind of day lesser or equal to sitting in a car repair shop for 5.75 hours only to have the replaced part fracture immediately and perusing laden shelves white-knuckling a glass of wine. Employing this finely-tuned procedure ensures that books nearly leap into my hands as if selecting me through carefully weighed consideration.

Tonight's choice was the aptly titled The Crack Up, a selection of short stories, unpublished works and letters of F. Scott Fitzgerald. This ratty '56 copy came from a backpacker book swap shop I found when working in Vientiane and was trucked back to the States in 150lbs of luggage, unread. His personal story is full of the ups and downs on a scale that most of us mere mortals won't ever experience. However, for all his talent and whirlwind of a social life, Fitzgerald is quite relatable in his quirkiness and nostalgic tendencies.

His essay Auction - Model 1934 was co-written with his wife Zelda and relays their desire to pare down by using everything up only to have all plans go awry when faced with belongings of times and travels past. They both write with a frankness, humor and tone that I can only wish I possessed. Alas, I fear the only thing I can share with the writer of The Great Gatsby and his spouse is the special kind of anguish born from the process of deciding whether or not treasured Gargantuan wool socks from England are worth having repaired. His problem seems to have been similar to mine- the curse of being able to remember where and when something was procured and the story behind it.

Take, for instance, two wooden items of note from my grams' home. Alas, only one of the treasures has a happy ending, but I recall their stories nonetheless. The first piece of potential kindling is a section of a maple tree formed into a butcher block by the esteemed Texas Mfg. Co. sometime in the early 20th century. It was apparently purchased by a great uncle who owned a butcher shop, then passed on to my grandparent's home, where it was covered with contact paper and used as a plant stand for about 40 years. Knowing that it was likely a goner and still reeling from personal loss, I salvaged it from a sad fate with some other "heirlooms" and carted it home. I lovingly cleaned and oiled the block, bringing back what I could of the little piece of family history. It was enjoyed right up to the point where I realized just how dark the center was. I now think I understand why my grams covered it, and a quick "ad" on Facebook found a new home for the block.

Lingering guilt assuaged by the knowledge that the block stays in the family and that I won't ever have to face a flock of ghost chickens in my kitchen.

The second wooden heirloom of note was the family potty chair. Yes folks, generations of teeny E_'s learned very important life lessons while sitting on that hard wooden seat. I had no intention of taking this little gem home with me, but I was caught in the crossfire of a family feud and got dragged in as the only one in the room still capable of bearing children. Someone got the brilliant idea that my little ones could learn that everyone poops on the same pot that the rest of us sat on. While I admired the tactics used to keep yet another item from my Aunt S_'s back seat, I was not appreciative of the broken chair or the other crap that arose relating to my childbearing potential at the ripe old age of 29. Mind you, I tried to dodge this weighty possession as I was on crutches at the time, but someone generously carried that and the family Ouija board out to my car. Poof to the potty chair last week, sans guilt.

I got off pretty easy with these two pieces in the grand scheme of this divesting process. There are other items, some made of yarn not entirely unlike Fitzgerald's socks, that still torment me. He had an attic and storage units for his holey footwear and other personal flotsam. As I have neither, I need to keep moving along with my project. At least I'm in esteemed company.