It Came From the Basement: Knowing What Counts

My mother believed in saving every penny she got. Literally. She spent money, of course. Other coins and bills, sure. But never a penny. If she caught me spending one she would reprimand me, "Don't you ever spend a penny! That's a sacrilege!" To this day I can hear her when I've got a penny in my hand and I'm deciding whether to hand it to a clerk or hold on to it.

She saved her pennies in two-pound coffee cans. It was always a bit of a joke, a cute little quirk. No one cares about pennies. But when money was tight and one of us kids needed something, Mom and the pennies came through. She paid for my wedding dress with pennies.

Cleaning the basement I came across the last of the coffee cans she left with me when she moved to Florida. Too heavy to move, she said. She instructed me that after she died I was to give each grandchild a coffee can of pennies so they, too, would know, "Pennies count."

I remember putting them in the basement. Surprisingly heavy, awkward, we carried them downstairs, one can at a time. Hauling them upstairs now that we're cleaning the basement, I had forgotten how heavy they were. The scale says 18 pounds but I don't believe it.

My mom died 12 years ago and most of the grandkids received their "inheritance" (about $36 per can give or take a few cents) shortly after that. For whatever reason I never finished giving out the pennies but the time has come.

Some things from the basement are harder to let go of than others. I struggle with the thought of the pennies just out there, their power dissipated. I want the grandchildren and great-grandchildren she never met to know what Mom knew about patience and persistence; about knowing what counts.

And she thought no one cared about pennies.

Cleaning the Basement

For several years now J and I have talked about it, but could not carve out the time and commitment to tackle our basement. You know how it goes. We've rehabbed, redecorated, redone every room in this old house, but not the basement. This spring we decided, it's time.

I don't need to go into detail about what's been evolving done there for the past 23 years. Just stuff. The stuff of raising kids, making a home, hobbies, interests, dreams x 4. Empty nesting, holding on, losing parents, letting go.

It's not easy, cleaning the basement. It's dark and dirty, musty and murky. So heavy with  things "done and left undone." It wipes me out and it is taking everything I have to stay on this. But I want to be free of all this stuff. It's gotten too heavy. So on this long holiday weekend there will be no rest in the Ryan home. We're cleaning the basement.

As bad as it is, this experience has inspired me with new ideas for Juice Break.

Coming soon...

"It Came From The Basement" and "The Things I'll Keep"

Heading downstairs. If you don't hear from me in the next few days, send help.