Yes We (watering) Can!

3/31/10 Tiny watering can, recycled

I was really struggling this evening. After my two loves were asleep upstairs and I finished up some schoolwork a little after 10PM, I wandered down to the basement, hoping to find something to throw out.

I listlessly pawed through a few storage boxes, looked over the random pile on my workbench, and peered into the darkest corners. But, my heart wasn't in it, and I wasn't having much luck.

It's work to do most downsizing. It's just not right to take most things -- even if you don't want them and they have no clear value -- and throw them into the trash. I am getting better at identifying things I can give away to specific people, but that doesn't help me when I'm trying to downsize two hours before midnight. (Side note: one key to successfully giving things away is targeting specific people to give them to. It's easy to say, "Oh, someone will want that!" but not always so easy to find the someone. You've got to start with the someone in mind, otherwise it can just get frustrating.) Donating things can be almost as tricky, and requires some planning. Even worse, selling stuff takes energy, initiative, and time.

It's just not easy to do downsizing on the spot. But, at this hour, I had little choice.

I'd almost given up on the basement when my eyes fell on this little watering can collecting dust behind the laundry detergent. I believe I bought the can back when I lived in New York, and it was an absolutely ridiculous purchase from day one. The foolish thing is so small that you'd be better off just filling a coffee mug with water and using that. No plant worth keeping alive could survive on the paltry drips of water this can provides.

So, of course, I brought the can with me to Maine and held onto it for another seven years. The layers of dust verified that it was a safe item to toss, and the still-attached price tag ($1.99) confirmed that I wasn't exactly sacrificing an investment.

Into the recycling bin.

There, that wasn't so hard, was it?

Flawless

3/30/10 Perfectly good candle holder and dish, given away

I warned Eva to watch out. Now we're bringing out the big guns: unblemished pottery. We're in such a groove that we don't even wait to chip or break our dishes anymore, we're just giving them to her in factory condition.

All in the name of art.

Crystal clear

3/29/10 Cracked snowman plate, given away

If I hadn't given a cracked plate away at school today, I may still have returned to find Joanna cleaning and organizing glassware, but I don't think so. See, my theory is that one downsize leads to another, and the spirit of downsizing leads to a general drive to de-clutter and organize.

The snowman plate, which Joanna painted herself, cracked when she put some extremely hot food on it last night. The crack was so slight that we probably could have ignored it and continued using it, but Joanna is definitely in a zone.

"Let's get rid of that," she said without hesitation. I married the right woman.

I took it to school because our art teacher often incorporates broken pottery into her ceramic creations. It was either a brilliant move or a terrible mistake for her to tell me that, since I'm now heading to her anytime I want to downsize a chipped plate or broken mug. Watch out, Eva.

With one less plate in the kitchen, perhaps Joanna decide it was time to tackle our (loosely labeled) China closet. Actually, we're not planning to get rid of the good stuff, but it needs to get organized and packed up for our eventual move.

To be fair, after talking to Amanda this weekend, Joanna was already thinking about the crystal project. While half of it belongs to Amanda, we've housed the entire collection at our house since we moved to Maine. With the exception of pulling out two champagne flutes a few times a year, we almost never touch any of it, which is why it was coated with a fine patina of dust.

When I arrived at 4:30PM, she had it neatly arranged on the kitchen counter and was just finishing washing the last few brandy snifters. I don't even know how to snift brandy, but those glasses make me want to try. And how about cordial glasses? I don't even know what they are for, but they sure make me feel friendly.

But, back to the point: All I downsized today was one lousy plate, but it led to a whole lot of organizing and tidying.

Plus, we re-discovered the huge beer stein with my name engraved on it that I received for being in my sister's wedding party. Now that's a productive downsizing day!

The ski's the limit

3/28/10 Complete set of skis, bindings, boots, and poles, given away

In the end, the stories make it worthwhile.

Today, I gave away one of my more significant possessions, at least in terms of value measured in use over time. In high school, I received a set of downhill skis from my parents for Christmas. I think it was my junior year, so it must have been around 1988.

This was a big deal because skis were seriously expensive. I remember being in a little bit of disbelief when I got them. They were even engraved with my name, which really sent the point home that they were mine.

Owning your own pair of skis makes the difference between skiing and not skiing. If you have your own, you: A) Only have to worry about the price of the lift ticket, and B) Don't have to waste time and aggravation dealing with rentals. Those things can be enough to prevent most of us from bothering to head to the mountain. But, when you've got your own, you can grab 'em and go, which I've enjoyed doing countless times over the last twenty-plus years.

I never ski as much as I'd like, but when I do, it's pure joy.

Two years ago, however, I bought some much-newer used skis off a ski-fanatic colleague of mine. I was about five years behind the shaped-skis curve, but I finally caught up. (Thank you, Patty!)

I've held on to my original skis since then but finally realized there's no reason I'd ever use them again.

Of course, this was probably a $500 package, and they are still practically as good as the day they were made. I was sure I could net a little cash for them.

I posted them for sale on craigslist. I started with $25. Nothing. Dropped it to $15. Silence. Went to $10. Nada. Oh, well.

I finally threw those babies up for FREE. I had six replies within twelve hours. Yep, once again, the Strange Price of Free. It's a powerful force.

The first person to respond was a woman named Jean, who came by this morning to get them. Turns out Jean has five kids, and her middle son wants to take up downhill skiing. Of course, with five children, Jean doesn't have the luxury of throwing money around, especially not on the sporting whims of a middle-schooler.

But, she was thrilled with my offer of skis, which would allow her son to try out the sport. They should certainly serve him well.

She was appreciative, he'll have fun, and I guess that's all the payment I need.

Bed to bed

3/27/10 Laura Ashley bedding set, returned

After yesterday's installment of the Great Christmas Downsize, Joanna decided to press her luck.

We've had a complete set of Amanda's bedding since we moved here, and it's long been the bedding of choice in our guest room. Since Amanda's been one of our most frequent visitors, it's fitting that she usually sleeps under her own comforter.

On her last visit, when Joanna suggested that we were ready to downsize the bedding, Amanda played the role of the goaling, deflecting. She said that she liked coming here, knowing that we were using it. "You should just keep it until you move," she replied.

Amanda has a fantastic condo in Charlestown, MA. But, although it's a super place, it is a Charlestown condo, which means she doesn't have a lot of extra space. Plus, Amanda has proven to be a world-class downsizer, herself. You cannot easily pawn things off on this woman.

By the time Amanda arrived yesterday, Joanna had taken a proactive stance. The bedding was in the washing machine, and we were determined not to take "No" for an answer.

Amanda, of course, is not only a great aunt, but also a good sport. She accepted the bedding (back), without complaint, and loaded it into her trunk, where it may well need to stay, since she has so little closet space at her place.

Oh, Amanda, watch out. We're attaching a trailer to that Honda the next time you come to visit.

It's beginning to look a lot like... Christmas?!?

3/26/10 Box of Christmas decorations, returned

Auntie Amanda has come up for the weekend to visit nephew Chase, but we roped her into our Great Christmas Downsize. She and Joanna spent several hours going through box after box of childhood baubles. The living room looked like a hurricane hit The Christmas Tree Shop, and they went back and forth between laughter and (near) tears as holiday memories flooded back.

They were also definitely in the giving spirit. I'd roughly estimate that for every item they saved, they set aside two to toss or give away. In the process, Amanda filled a box with some select childhood decorations she couldn't bear to part with, and she'll be taking it with her when she leaves.

We've still got many boxes to go, and then there's the challenge of how to get rid of some things that seem too good to trash. Those are challenges for another day.

As for today, we can hang our stockings on the mantle with a sense of yuletide pride. Progress has been made. Ho, ho, ho!

Just plain tired

3/25/10 Single tire, given away

Remember yesterday's tire-switch on Joanna's car?

Here's the rest of the story: while I went in to simply have the tires swapped and the oil changed -- about a $50 job -- I ended up needing to buy four new tires and get a break job. Grand total: $712. It's always a treat when having your car serviced costs ten times what you thought it would.

It's also a treat when you get home after dropping the better part of a grand, open your trunk to take out the snow tires, and discover that the shop has left one of the "useless" old tires in there, as well. I suppose it was the one with a little bit of tread left. Maybe in my pre-downsize days I might have considered holding onto it. Now? No way.

So, with too much already on my plate for the day, I stopped at the shop to drop it back off this morning. Since they weren't open, I left a nice little note saying that I had no use for the tire and expected they could take care of it for me.

"Give me a call if I need to pay a disposal fee," I wrote.

Let me assure you that I would NOT have been happy if I had actually received a call.

Seventeen and a half hours after dropping off the tire and beginning my work day, I am about ready to go to bed. I did take about two hours off to hold the baby and eat one of Joanna's delicious dinners, but other than that it's been all work. I have to lead three separate workshops tomorrow during our school inservice, and I'm still not completely ready. But, at this point, a few hours of sleep may be more important to my success than any more planning.

For the record, even though I'm posting this after midnight on March 26, it totally counts as "on time" for March 25, since I haven't gone to bed yet...

Yep, "tire" pretty much sums it up.

In the swing of spring

3/24/10 Two splintery swings and yards of rusty chain, trashed (recycled?) (as of 3/29: given away!)

Today, Joanna's car was scheduled to have the snow tires removed and the all-year tires put on. Ironically, I woke up this morning to find a half-inch of heavy, wet snow on the ground.

I followed a plow/sand truck most of the way to work, which made for a slow but safe trip. I dropped off the car at the shop, which hadn't yet opened, and walked the rest of the way to school in the miserable precipitation, which had shifted over to rain.

I guess spring isn't here in all its glory. That shouldn't be a surprise, since I seem to remember an even bigger snow storm last year on the day we changed Joanna's tires.

By the end of the day, the snow had mostly melted and the sun came out enough to allow Joanna, Chase, and I to go on an hour-long walk. After the walk, I pulled the snow tires out of the trunk and lugged them to our shed for storage until next winter.

When we bought our home, I discovered a pile of half-burned lumber in our back field. Over time, I cleaned up the debris, although there are probably dozens of rusty nails still scattered in the unmowed grass. Among the mess were two wooden swing seats, still attached to lengths of chain. Far too good to discard!

They've been in the shed ever since, hidden by the all-year tires in the winter, and hidden by the winter tires the rest of the year. Out of sight, out of mind. As I carried the tires into the shed and set them down in front of the swings, something clicked in my mind.

It's spring; the perfect time of year to set up a swing. But...

1) My child is far too young to go on a regular swing.

2) I have no tree in my yard that I could attach either of these swings to.

3) No parent in their right mind would let children sit on these swings, anyway.

I grabbed the swings and placed them in the front corner of the shed, with other items slated to go to the dump. The seats will go into the scrap lumber pile, and the chains will go into the metal recycling bin, so I don't feel too guilty about trashing them. In fact, it feels pretty good to know that, for the first time since we moved into this house, there is absolutely nothing hiding behind those tires.

That, folks, is officially my first act of spring cleaning.

Editor's Note, 3/29/10: Not to belabor a point, but teachers really will take anything. The morning after I posted this, my colleague Deb told me she could have used those chains on her woods road. Fortunately, I hadn't taken them to the dump, yet. Yesterday, I removed the chains from the seats, took the seat scraps to the dump, and dumped the chains into a bucket, which I put in Deb's car this morning at school. Glad they'll be put to good use.

Does anybody really know what time it is...

3/23/10 Clock, given away

Ask almost anyone, in any job, what the biggest obstacle to their own productivity is, and I'm willing to bet most will say TIME.

There isn't a day that goes by in my school when I am not engaged in several conversations about how things could be so much better if only we had more time. And, I agree.

Yet, it's such an odd thing to lament. Of all the things we have control over in this world, time isn't one of them. Those seconds are going to keep ticking by at the same rate (or close to it; apologies to Einstein) no matter what we do.

We battle to be more efficient, on-task, focused, organized, etc., as we should. But to think that we are ever going to really influence time is pure folly.

I'm reminded of a random survey I once read about golfers. A study had been done to determine if the fact that a round of golf could typically take four to five hours was seen as a problem by casual golfers, who might not want to give up so much time on a weekend. The results started the researcher. The overwhelming response was not that golfers felt the game took too long, it was that they were frustrated that they didn't have MORE TIME to devote to golf.

Isn't that interesting?!? Rather than contemplate a world where a round of golf might include only, say twelve holes, golfers preferred to rue the existence of the space-time continuum.

We are a messed up species.

Nonetheless, I'll be the first to admit that time is a major marker in my life. I'd rather go pants-less than leave my watch at home. In fact, since the little post on my watchband is bent, I have scraped poor little Chase's head several times with it. I'm admitting it: I've injured my son with my watch, and yet I refuse to stop wearing it.

Today, I took an old plastic clock into school and put it in the teacher's room. Predictably, it was snatched up almost immediately, again by the infamous Claudette. She promptly hung it in the corner of her kindergarten classroom, where the students "play house."

That's right, get 'em used to that clock young. It's gonna be ruling their lives for many years to come...

The love of a good woman

3/22/10 Random Christmas junk, trashed

I love my wife. Here's just one small reason why:

I left at 6:45 AM this morning and dragged myself back home at 7:30 PM.

When I arrived, Joanna was caring for Chase, as she had been doing, all on her own, all day long.

Dinner was ready and warm on the stove.

And a pile of Christmas stuff that Joanna had sorted through was waiting for me to toss into the trash. She did the work, I take the credit.

Ah, Chase, do you know how lucky you are to have this woman as your mother?

Scraping by

3/21/10 Four ice scrapers, trashed

Here's an example of my classic anti-downsizing -- or, as my cousin Amy has coined it, "Upsizing" -- behavior.

Every fall, after the first frost of the year, I realize I need a new scraper for my car's windshield. The old scraper, dug out from under the seat, proves insufficient since it is so dinged up it's about as effective as removing the ice with a comb.

And so, I trot off to a hardware store where I buy another cheap, ultimately disposable ice scraper. Of course, I don't throw away the old one, since that would seem wasteful and the "brushy" part still works.

Instead, I toss it into the shed.

This morning, to celebrate the first full day of spring (and to celebrate a week-long stretch of almost summer-like weather we've enjoyed in Maine), I dug out the last four years' worth of scrapers. I didn't feel great about tossing them into the trash, but I did it anyway.

However, I have vowed to stop this vicious buy/use/discard cycle.

Two years ago, Joanna's Dad gave her an ice scraper in her Christmas stocking. It has been a revelation. Apparently, not all scrapers are created equal. Despite two years of hard use, it has retained it's smooth edge and fine ice-removing ability.

The solution is simply for me to invest in a high-quality scraper. Spend a bit more up front so that I don't need to re-invest every fall.

And so, I've got a planned Upsize next October. Hopefully, it will be my last scraper purchase for many years to come.

High fidelity

3/20/10 Over 100 vinyl record albums, sold on craigslist for $20

The downsizing of my turntable two weeks ago made this day inevitable. Without a record player, there really can't be any justification for holding onto the records, can there?

Even in 2010, I think we can admit that records are cool. They're just not practical.

Almost all of our collection used to belong to Joanna's mother, which is why, of course, we continued to hold on to them. Even with a working turntable, we hadn't listened to a single record in at least three years. But, they were valuable because they provided another link to Joanna's childhood and her mother. Letting them go seemed, somehow, like an act of infidelity.

As we sorted through the albums in preparation for putting them up for sale, Joanna wrote down some of the song titles that she most remembered her mom playing.

The other day, I walked into our bedroom as Joanna nursed Chase, and she was listening to the songs on her iPhone. She'd gone to iTunes and downloaded digital copies. True, those copies of the songs may not have the scratchy character of vinyl, but they have one distinct advantage over the music on our records: they will actually get listened to.

That's the irony of selling the albums: it has led Joanna to actually listen to some of the music on them. And now, she'll be able to keep listening to it, whenever and wherever she wants.

To me, that's being faithful to the music and the memories.

Is Cuisin really Art?

3/19/10 Cuisinart food processor, given away

I continue to use school as my go-to source for fast downsizing.

Actually, today's item is one I've been trying to figure out how to downsize for months. It's a perfectly good, practically new, still-in-the-box food processor. It's one of those items that seems too good to just give away. New, it would cost close to $100 at Macy's. Yet, I know I wouldn't get $10 for it on Craigslist and the guy at the local Buy/Sell/Swap shop just shook his head when I asked if he'd buy it.

"Small appliances aren't worth anything," he said.

Well, they're worth something if you cook, which Joanna does with great success. However, she prefers our much smaller food processor and said we should downsize this larger one. It's not without some regret that I do so, since I believe it was a gift from my family many years ago. The fact that it's still in the original box (and wrapped in plastic) indicates that Joanna is right -- best to let someone else put it to use.

Still, I realized that I could get something out of the transaction, so I left it in the Teachers' Room with a note that it was free for the taking, but I expected a food treat in return.

Almost immediately, one of our school secretaries snatched it up, very excited to have a food processor that wasn't twenty-five years old. (Remember what I said about keeping the secretaries happy?) Her eyes sparkled as she wondered out loud what culinary delights she might bring in return.

I can't wait. I'm rather infamous around school as a voracious eater, so I'm eager to get my just desserts. There are things better than money.

The wreath, a bone, & Bird

3/18/10 Fake wreath, trashed

Nine o'clock on Thursday night, near the end of a week with little sleep, after watching the not-exactly-cheery movie Precious, is no time to tackle downsizing.

Joanna to the rescue. With our living room still dominated by a phalanx of Christmas boxes, untouched since I lugged them up there on Tuesday night, Joanna sighed, "Just throw out that old wreath."

"Really?"

"Yeah, just make sure you write that I threw you a bone."

Joanna threw me a bone.

Bird even complied when I tried to get a funny picture. I picked her up, stuck her head through the wreath, and just hung there limply until Joanna got the shot.

Thank you ladies. I needed an easy one tonight.

Wet behind the ears

3/17/10 Umbrella, given away

On Monday, one of my students wasn't in school.

On Tuesday, he told me why, more or less like this:

I couldn't come because my stepfather took the car, and my book bag was in it. And our house is a mile down the road from the bus stop and it was raining real hard. And my mom has fibromyalgia so she doesn't want to walk. And, when we moved, we lost my raincoat and stuff so we'd get wet. I wanted to walk by myself, but there's a sex offender that lives on the road, so my mom said I couldn't walk and she wouldn't walk with me. And, we forgot to change our clocks for daylight savings time.

If you've ever worked in a public school that serves kids from low-income families, you've heard that kind of story a million times before.

How much is true? How should a teachers respond? Honestly, I don't have answers.

Today, I gave the kid an umbrella.

Rearranging the deck chairs

3/16/10 Bizarre, dust-covered Christmas mouse ornament, trashed

I've longed complained on this blog about our basement and the seemingly endless amount of stuff down there.

Tonight I clearly identified the basement clutter cornerstone. And side stone, and wall stone, and floor stone...

Christmas stuff. Fourteen large containers of Christmas stuff. Plus some other small bags and boxes.

Hey, I enjoy Christmas as much as the next atheist, but this seems a bit out of control. My problem-solving approach was to bring all of the boxes up into our living room so that we'd be forced to deal with them. When Joanna came down from putting the baby to bed and saw the impromptu holiday bulwark, she let out a little gasp.

And then she said, "Amanda and I have already gone through the Christmas stuff once!" Well, it's time for go-round number two. Soon.

As for tonight, getting the stuff up here was enough of an accomplishment, even if the only thing actually downsized was a weird little mouse that I found encased in dust, jammed between two of the boxes.

Hey, it's a start.

When Downsizing is a bad thing

3/15/10 Boyds Bear "Teacher Bear" Figurine, sold on eBay for 99 cents

I've co-opted the term Downsizing and thrown it around in a light and fun way for most of the last seven and a half months. But, even as I celebrate my daily downsizing, the original meaning of the word is all too obvious all around us.

Before I could go to the post office this afternoon to mail off this little figurine to the guy who bought it on eBay, I needed to stay late for a meeting, at which we found out about yet another potential lay-off at our school. I ended my day Friday in the same way: hearing that it's fortunate I'm leaving the district this summer, since the plan is to reduce the number of literacy coaches for next school year. A good time for me to move to Denver.

Of course, school districts are forever running tight budgets and worrying about how to to maintain programming. I remember, in my first year of teaching, my roommate received a Reduction in Force letter in the last month of school. He was told he'd probably be hired back, but the standard practice was to RIF every first-year teacher in case the budget got tight over the summer.

Things are even worse, right now, as Maine (and most of the nation) battles an educational budget crisis like nothing I've seen in fifteen years. My district has already scaled back significantly this year, but will receive more than two million dollars less in state funding next year.

You can't cut two million dollars by limiting teacher's access to copy paper.

Downsizing, indeed.

Of course, the children -- about whom this system should revolve -- remain largely unaware, if not unaffected, by budget scrambles and cuts.

I'm not sure who gave me the little teacher bear figurine, but I'm pretty sure it was the appreciative parent of one of my students about ten years ago. The figuring captured the image that the child may have had of educators: rumpled, caring, comfortable.

In fact, of course, we are also cogs in a machine that is, at once, too entrenched to change yet too flawed to continue as is. I'd like to think that the downsizes to come will ultimately lead to a better system, either by forcing us to reevaluate how we educate kids, or helping the whole country to see what it really does cost to teach a nation's children. I'd like to think that will happen, but I'm not betting on it.

Downsizing doesn't always lead to good things.

Editor's Note, 3/16/10: Just to demonstrate how some people are trying to elevate the level of social discourse around these topics, thought I'd share the thoughtful proclamations of a local business. This message greeted Joanna and I as we went on a walk this afternoon and is definitely representative of the tone and nature of this guy's usual postings. I'm unsure how his rants affect gun sales.

It seemed important at the time

3/14/10 Dozens of old files and documents, recycled

On Friday, as I was talking to my accountant -- I've always wanted to be able to say that -- I needed to look back at an old tax return. Organized bloke that I am, I pulled down the huge plastic tub, stored on the top shelf of the closest in our guest bedroom, where my past tax returns are stored.

After finding the information that I needed, I was confronted by the fact that my tax documents occupied a very small percentage of this storage bin. The vast majority of the bin was taken up by two black file cases. Could the contents be downsized?

This evening I returned to the guest bedroom to open up and examine the above mentioned file cases. Now, Dear Reader, you may be asking yourself, "What percentage of the priceless documents contained in these cases and meticulously cataloged, labeled, and saved by Reed, could now be safely discarded?"

Ah, I was asking myself the same question.

The answer was a bit surprising: 100%. That's right: I recycled every single piece of paper in both cases. There wasn't a single scrap of pulp that was important enough to survive tonight's downsize.

Which brings me to this conclusion: either time quickly renders irrelevant things which were once vitally important, or I do a poor job of decided what to save in the first place.

If the second is true, I need to rapidly get that under control or I'm setting myself up for time-wasting downsizes years into the future.

Downsizing at 50 MPH

3/13/10 Car detritus, trashed

Joanna may be a far better downsizer than I, but you wouldn't know it from our cars. Mine is definitely kept both cleaner and neater -- perhaps it's a guy thing.

Today our happy little family headed down to Portland to run some errands and take a walk around the Back Bay. Joanna drove, and at one point asked me to see if there was any gum in the center console. One thing leads to another...

And so, in search of gum, I began to sift through the random flotsam and jetsam Joanna has collected in that dangerous little repository between the front seats. Halfway through the task, Joanna said, "You should do the glove compartment, too."

Downsizing happens.

Actually, purging stuff while flying down the road is an excellent time-saver. Now if I can just figure out how to do it while sleeping.

School Daze, Part V

3/12/10 Big pile 'o files, recycled; Womb sounds tape, returned

Today I concluded my week of school downsizing with, arguably, the most important purge: getting rid of old files. As a generally organized person, I tend to keep rather orderly and detailed files both at work and at home. Ever concerned about being able to reference important documents from the past, I also keep these files much longer than reasonably necessary.

With an unusual ruthlessness, I took less than fifteen minutes this morning before work to cull some of the obviously obsolete files from my office cabinet. I'm certainly getting better at this, since in the past I would have poured over each piece of paper before discarding it. Today, on the other hand, I made flash decisions based on the title on the folder tab. Scary, I know.

I also returned an audio cassette to our Speech & Language teacher, who had lent it to us as a baby shower gift. It contained womb sounds and became one of the more significant gifts we received. We've since discovered that Chase really is calmed by these sounds, and I downloaded my own copy and put it on CD. In fact, as I write this, he is sleeping soundly in the living room, with the rhythmic -- and slightly creepy -- heartbeat sounds pulsing all around both of us. Pam wanted her original tape back, so she could hand it off to future new parents. They will certainly appreciate her thoughtfulness.

One final note to close School Downsize Week: As I supervised playground duty this morning, I noticed a familiar book bag on the back of a kindergartener. Sure enough, it was one of the downsizes from Day One of this week, now providing safe book transport for a little girl who badly needed it. Kinda makes me feel like a good teacher.

School Daze, Part IV (and a note from Tom Brady)

3/11/10 Random office clutter, given away & trashed

My office at school is 9' x 11'. This is more than adequate -- I sometimes have a group of four students in there working with me -- but it's also small enough that any clutter is conspicuous. I took some time first thing this morning to clear off a particularly troublesome shelf that had become a repository for stuff I don't use. I tossed half of it in the trash and put the other half out on the Reading Room table, where it was quickly snatched up by my non-downsizing colleagues.

More interestingly, I returned home to discover that one of the Sports Illustrated magazines that I had sent of for potential autographs had returned. I've had four downsizing days (here, here, here, and here) that involved sending issues of Sports Illustrated off for signatures, and this was the first to ever return.

Joanna and I gathered together to open the envelope and discover if I had actually been successful at garnering the coveted John Hancock of a famous athlete.

Alas, no. Apparently Tom Brady is a rather busy man.

In his defense, I will say three things:

1) Brady probably has the most sought-after autograph in the NFL today, so I believe it when his "people" tell me they can't fill every request.

2) At least they were timely with returning the magazine to me. I just sent it to him in February. In contrast, I sent off magazines to Red Sox players back in September and still haven't heard a peep.

3) While I didn't get an autograph, they did return my magazine along with a letter and a Patriots Fan Pack, which included a team photo and a Tom Brady sticker. Pretty thoughtful.

Joanna's reaction, of course, was a little more in keeping with the spirit of the Downsizing Challenge.

"Let me get this straight," she said, eye rolling, "You send something away and you get MORE crap back?!?"

She had a point. I'm keeping the magazine with Brady on the cover, even without an autograph, but to make up for it, I pulled out another old S.I. that I'd been saving and tossed it in the recycling bin.

As for that Tom Brady sticker? She'll have to pry that out of my cold, dead hands.

School Daze, Part III

3/10/10 Forty-four children's books, given away

At this point, teachers are really starting to scare me.

I'm three days into what is turning into a week of school downsizing, and I'm realizing that teachers will take ANYTHING... and then they'll want what it came in, too.

My plan this morning was to put a grab-box of books in the teacher's room, leave it there for forty-eight hours, and then donate the books that were left over to the Casco Library's book sale. An hour and a half after I had left the books, all but two were gone, and there was even a sign asking for the basket I'd placed them in.

These people are desperate! To protect her identity, I won't reveal who wanted the basket, but her initials are Claudette Pierce.

What's become crystal clear is that if you want to make money off your downsizing, stay away from public schools. But, if you want to just give stuff away, teachers are like Downsizing Black Holes -- stuff disappears as if into a giant vacuum in space.

Which, honestly, is great. I just need to tie a few things down that I'm not ready to part with, yet...

Stealing from kids

3/9/10 Thunder Cake by Patricia Polacco, returned

Once again, one downsize led to another. In the process of culling several dozen books from my school collection last week, I discovered this copy of Thunder Cake, which I had forgotten about.

This is an interesting story, which reverses the usual teacher/student dynamic.

Last year I needed Thunder Cake for a demonstration lesson I was planning to teach. As I asked around to find a teacher who might have a copy, a sixth grade girl overheard that I needed it, and offered up her own book.

Students lending books to teachers. Now that's a literature-rich school environment! Love it.

Being the responsible adult in this transaction, I borrowed the book, used it for the lesson, and then buried it on my shelf where it was promptly forgotten. At least by me.

If Libby realized that weird Mr. Dyer had neglected to give her book back, she didn't say anything. Actually, she's certainly savvy enough to have remembered that I had it. She probably just decided that it might be best to chalk it up as lost forever. Don't mess with Mr. Dyer, he's a wild-card. Heck, the guy has to bum his teaching supplies off eleven-year-olds.

And so, as this academic year began, Libby headed off to middle school, while I carried on my merry way at the Guy E. Rowe School, oblivious to my own theft.

There's a chance, of course, that if I were not engaged in the Downsizing Challenge, I might never have returned that book. The pre-downsize Reed would likely have unthinkingly thrown every book into boxes -- to keep, of course -- at the end of the school year. Thunder Cake could well have moved with us to Denver this summer, where it would have almost certainly remained, still packed, in that box for several more years.

Fortunately for the book, Libby, and myself, none of us have to live through that alternate reality. I found the book and sent it over to Libby at the middle school earlier today. Aren't I such a role model?

At least I know she's mature enough to forgive me.

The Hurt Locker

2/8/10 Two book bags and two fleece blankets, given away

I've got to figure out a way to further take advantage of my work setting for intensive downsizing. Every day I work in an environment with fifty adults and over 400 children. Between wants and needs, this is pure Downsize Land.

Today I pawned off two fleece blankets and two book bags on teachers. The book bags were actually a very worthwhile give-away, since I asked around until I found teachers (one in kindergarten, the other in fourth) who had students who needed book bags. It's a sorry sight when a child heads home after school with a fist-full of papers since he doesn't own a bag to carry them in.

I'm actually going to look around for more old book bags, since there are always children at school would could use them, and downsizing in that way gives me a happy glow.

I've also got to figure out what else around here can be easily downsized to teachers and children (Other than the cats, which I know most of my colleagues and ALL of the kids would accept in a heartbeat.)

Put the needle on the record

3/7/10 Turntable and stereo cabinet, sold for $10 on craigslist

I suppose it was time to let the record player and the stereo cabinet go, even though they were such a marker of passage out of childhood.

I remember, like it was yesterday, shopping for my first true stereo with my folks at Pomerleau's in Augusta. Man, was I excited back in 1986 (that's my best guess) when I received that true marker of adolescence: a way to play music loud. No CD players in those days, of course, but it did have a dual cassette deck, which I practically wore out by the end of high school.

The turntable never got much use, but, ironically, it was the one part of the system that survived to this day. Everything else eventually blew out and had to be discarded, but that record player was right there in my living room, attached, with no irony whatsoever, to our Bose 321 Sound System up until last week.

But, in 2010, I'm not playing records any more frequently than I did back in 1986, so it was time to let it go.

This downsize was difficult not because I have sentimental attachment to the machine or because I felt like it was worth much more than I sold it for, but because it just seems cool to have a record player. I want to be the guy who comes home and throws on a scratchy jazz LP to unwind after work. I want to be the guy who appreciates the tonal qualities of vinyl and the artistic merits of record sleeves.

But I'm not that guy.

And, besides, Miles Davis sounds better on the iPhone, anyway.

Mirror, mirror, on the wall...

3/6/10 Large (and heavy!) mirror, given away on craigslist

I figure giving away a mirror is as good a time as any to examine how downsizing reflects on me, as a person.

Downsizing has certainly forced me to confront -- often publicly -- what I will bluntly call my own greed. Although, to this point, I have given things away on seventy-three of the challenge days, I will admit that there is almost always a devil on my shoulder saying, "Can't you make some money off this thing?"

I've certainly discovered that putting things on craigslist for five or ten dollars almost never works (spoiler alert: except for tomorrow!) but it still pains me to give away something that I feel should sell for five dollars.

Why?

It's obviously not because I need that five dollars. Indeed, by some calculations, it's not worth my time to try to sell things for such small amounts. I read on an online forum one recommendation not to take the time to sell anything on eBay that won't garner at least $25. Holy smoke, if I followed that rule I would have eliminated nine-tenths of my eBay sales. And, yet, even I have to admit that selling something for ninety-nine cents on eBay is worthwhile only if I derive some sort of intrinsic value from the process. Do I? Well, my argument is that if someone is going to pay something for it, at least I can feel that they really wanted it.

Which doesn't seem the case when you're just giving away stuff. It's clear that people will jump at just about anything that's free, often without much thought of why they want it or how they'll use it.

But, then, I think about the folks that come to my door when I offer something for free on craigslist or freecycle. Every one of them -- EVERY ONE -- has been an interesting person with a good story to tell. In the end, giving the item to them has always seemed like a win-win proposition.

Tonight, an energetic woman named Lyn came by for the mirror and seemed pleased as could be about it. "Perfect," was the word she used.

At our yard sale last summer, before the Downsizing Challenge began, we had that mirror marked for sale at thirty-five dollars. It didn't sell, but there's part of my brain that still insists it's worth closer to that than the zero dollars I charged Lyn for it.

Did I lose out? Joanna would say absolutely not, since we now have that huge mirror out of here. Getting rid of clutter is enough payment for her, at least most of the time.

But, when I look in that mirror, I still can't say with absolute conviction that all is well in that reflection. Part of me -- a small part to be sure, but still a part -- feels like a year of giving away things that could be sold will add up to a fair chunk of change, lost.

Would I trade the joy of giving for the cold hard cash of a monetary sale?

Sometimes, sure.

Mikey likes it!

3/5/10 Pencil box, decorative bag, and "Successories Desktop Print", given away

On the surface, this was a light downsizing day, but I may have made a little bit of a breakthrough.

Today, I gave away three minor items which were probably headed for the trash bin, until I realized that one man's trash is another KID'S treasure. I took three little things and delivered them to students at my school. They were delighted and will, at least for a while, breath new life into thins that I had no interest in.

We could really learn something from children, who often find great joy in things adults cast off.

And, not only can we learn from them, we can give our junk to them! What a racket!

I've been framed

3/4/10 Sixteen picture frames (or related items) and one homemade mosaic mirror, trashed

Yesterday's knick-knack downsize brought to my attention the large number of crappy picture frames we have.

I say, if a picture is important enough to display, it is important enough to display in a quality frame.

Once again, one downsize has led me to another. I thought this challenge would get harder as it went along, but it's often surprisingly easy.

Happy 90th Birthday, Nanna!

3/3/10 Bunch of knick-knacks, trashed or recycled

Was your grandmother involved in the Manhattan Project? I didn't think so.

Well, mine was.

Yeah, I've pretty much got the coolest grandmother on earth. Given that fact, perhaps you are all eager to join me in wishing my grandmother:

Happy 90th Birthday, Nanna!

I cannot begin to list the many things I've learned from her (including, as referenced in the above photo, how to play golf). She's such an amazing woman with such a fascinating life story that I've recorded about five hours of video interviews with her, which I hope to someday make into a family documentary. Sundance Film Festival, here we come.

One trait I certainly inherited from her is a propensity for hoarding.

We've long joked that if you venture into her basement -- no joke here, her basement has five separate rooms and an internal hallway -- you'd better go down there with a string attached so you can find your way back.

Looking at my own basement, I'm realizing that the apple hasn't fallen far from the tree.

And so, in honor of my grandmother entering her tenth decade, I collected all the knick-knacks from around the house, covered an entire table-top with them, and took a good, hard look. Nanna would NOT have done this. Sorry, I gotta be my own man at times.

Joanna and I eventually decided that about a third of the items, beloved and precious as they may be, could go immediately into the trash or recycle bin. That's the thing about knick-knacks: once you get over the sentimental attachment, you realize there is no other value.

We've kept the rest, but with the conviction that we still appreciate their true value.

Of course, the things of true value, as the bumper sticker says, aren't things at all. They're often people, like my grandmother. Now there's something worth holding on to.

Nonfiction in Focus

3/2/10 A few dozen nonfiction children's books, given away

The fact that I'm going to be changing jobs in a few months brought me to the sudden realization that I need to step-up the downsizing initiative at work. Today, over lunch, I did a quick culling of my nonfiction children's books. While getting rid of books is always difficult, I'm now such a proponent of libraries that I increasingly feel like my own collection can be quite small. I quickly pulled several dozen books off the shelf that I could live without.

I teach a graduate course every other Monday to educators in our district, and we hold the classes right at my school. Recently, we've been having our sessions in the first-grade classroom of my colleague Stephen, who is fresh out of college and working hard to teach a roomful of seven year-olds all they need to know to be successful in life.

During our last class session I asked Stephen to grab a nonfiction book out of his library so I could demonstrate something and came to the shocking realization that his book collection was seriously lacking in the nonfiction category.

Steve is working his tail off at school and, in a perfect world, would have been presented with a high-quality classroom library the day he stepped into the building. Since that certainly didn't happen, he's be trying to piece together his own collection of books from whatever sources he can find.

I was all too happy to lend a hand. Steve enthusiastically accepted the box of books, but they are, of course, just small drops in the bucket.

Anybody out there, Dear Readers, want to donate another $1,000 worth of books to the guy? I'll be happy to broker the deal.

Boys love guns (as they should)

3/1/10 Ping-pong gun, given away

When I noticed on Facebook that my colleague's son turned twelve yesterday, I had instant downsizing inspiration.

I've had an air-powered ping-pong ball gun on my workbench for years. Where else would you keep such a weapon?!? It actually wasn't even mine, it was part of Joanna's dowry, but she gave the go-ahead on the give-away.

First, of course, I had to check with his mom, since we seem to have entered a time in American culture when the mere mention of the word gun is supposed to send children spiraling into a lifetime of dysfunction and violence. Not like in my day, when I was not only expected to play with guns, but they were actually made of metal and looked like guns.

(Which brings to mind the time when I was about ten and tried to bring a carry-on bag of about ten cap guns onto an airplane. You should have seen the eyes on the airport screeners when that bag went through the x-ray machine.)

Fortunately, Cathy is a good Maine mom and her only response was that Andrew would love the ping-pong gun. And, indeed, he seemed to.

Furthermore, Dear Readers, he assured me that he would not shoot his sisters in the face, only in the legs.

Good boy, Andrew, and happy birthday.