A Little Help for Syrian Refugees in Serbia

My daughter's last weeks in Serbia--a country that has embraced her and that she has embraced--are coinciding with the masses of Syrian refugees entering a country with a dubious and tragic history of its own--and in the midst of a terrible economic situation. Emma has been volunteering at various refugee sites.

Her drawings of Serbia have met with a wonderful reception, both in Serbia and in the Serbian diaspora.

She is offering a set of postcards for a mere $5, with all proceeds to go to aid for Syrian refugees in Serbia.

This is from her FB, through which you can link to her commercial site. No paypal, I'm afraid. It is not available to residents of Serbia.


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I know we all want to do our part, however small, to help refugees as they make their long and difficult journey toward a better life.

These postcards are a small contribution we can all afford: 100% of proceeds will go to Refugee Aid Serbia. The postcards are tokens of appreciation for what is, for all intents and purposes, a generous donation.

Receive something beautiful and do good all at the same time. What could be better?

Please share!

http://www.emmafick.com/snippets-of-s…/postcards-for-charity

Veronese: Lost and Found?

Continued from "The Lost Museum."

The famous scholar told us the story of how he came to own a Veronese. It was a well-practiced tale. I am only reporting (after 30 years!) what we were told. I cannot vouch for the veracity of the tale, of course.

Famous scholar told us that a colleague showed him a classified ad for a yard sale in a Chicago suburb. Among the usual: furniture, household, and so on was something unusual: painting by Veronese. Famous scholar went to the sale, learned that the painting was $3000 and purchased it, with the proviso that he would have to look into authenticity. The sellers agreed.

Famous scholar was well-connected and took the painting to his friend who was a curator at a famous art museum. They found the painting in a publication, with a note that it had been lost. With this evidence of authenticity, the sale was completed. The sellers were dentists.

Fast forward about 20 years (2004?). Mr FS and I invited a few stray people to Thanksgiving dinner. One guest was my former department head. Another was a woman we know who grew up in England. During World War II, she was among the children shipped from London to the countryside.

Somehow the conversation turned to ... well, I can't remember...but I told the story of the Veronese. Both guests said--immediately and in unison--WAR LOOT.

Of course! How could I not have seen it?  Surely this would have or should have occurred to the person who worked in the museum if not to the famous scholar.

Interestingly, I checked out the whereabouts of famous scholar. He's still famous. And he's teaching in Berlin. How strange. I wonder if he still has the painting. I wonder if he went to the exhibit at the Bode Museum. I wonder how much of the story is true.

The Lost Museum

Mr FS and I visited Berlin for the first time this summer. Because of my family's lucky escape from Austria in 1938 and because so many people I knew in childhood and beyond had lost relatives to the Holocaust, I was apprehensive. As it happened, I loved Berlin. We stayed in a now trendy area of the former East Berlin.

As usual, we got a museum card, in this case, a 3-day pass. All the museums are fairly small and several are clustered in "Museum Island." So we saw the must-sees--like Nefertiti--and then checked out some of the less visited exhibits.

One that intrigued me was at the Bode Museum: "The Lost  Museum." The exhibit consisted of full-size black and white photos of lost art works. Some were simply lost. Others were taken by Allied forces. Most taken by the Russian forces still have not been returned. Many works were stored for safekeeping and then were destroyed in a fire.  This last is, of course, ironic in the extreme, given the manner of death of so many people during the war. Here is an interesting essay on the exhibit from the Wall Street Journal.

The exhibit was almost empty. It was very moving. And, of course, the lost people are never far from one's mind.

In the lounge, we perused a catalog of the exhibit, which included many works not on display. I took a special look to see if there were any Veronese paintings among the lost. Indeed, there were.

Why did I look at Veronese?

Almost thirty years ago, when I was studying art in Chicago courtesy of the National Endowment for the Humanities,  the director of my seminar kindly invited me to dinner with a well-known scholar. The dinner was not a success. We went to a trendy restaurant, which was so noisy that I wince at the memory. There was a wait of over an hour. UGH. Also, I could tell the scholar was kind of bored with us, probably saving his energy for people who could help with his career.

He was an incredible gossip and I shared with him one delectable morsel. He then told a story about how he came to own a Veronese.

My First Trip to Hermes: What I Wore

Sooooooo, after our rejection at the Louvre, we were walking along, taking in the chic passersby and the beautiful windows. There we were on rue de Sevres. Where there is a Hermes (or AN Hermes, if I pronounce properly).

The window was unimpressive, featuring terrazzo tile (?) with keys and other objects embedded in it, but right near the door there was a table with brochures for a design event: for a week in June a number of shops participate in "7 Jours" of Design. I went to pick up a brochure.

The elegant doorman swept open the door and we were swept in. Oops! Well, I've always wanted to see the decor because that particular shop was built on the former site of a hotel swimming pool.

We walked around. Then the scarf lady gestured that I should come over. OK. I looked at a few scarves, but said I needed to wait for my daughter's opinion (which is true; she is always right).

This is what I was wearing: a cardigan (which I had taken off because it was hot), a tank top, dusty sandals, and my Eileen Fisher harem pants (the only remotely nice thing I had on). Oh yeah: my accessories. A junky scarf (how embarrassing!) and a tiny stained Vera Bradley purse that had been discarded by Miss Em in junior high (I use it as a wallet when I travel).

Mr FS looked about the same.

We were more scruffy than usual because we were wearing some of the clothes we had flown in--the day before. We had yet to get some duds to tide us over while waiting for our delayed luggage.

Even so, the scarf lady was charming and welcoming.

I must say I was relieved by the whole experience. I find the scarves absolutely gorgeous, but otherwise, I was not filled with desire for the merchandise. Phew!

Miss Em came to visit two weeks later. She didn't want to help me pick out a scarf at Hermes, but she did help me pick one at Monoprix. Maybe next year.

First day in Paris: Mean Girl

My first full day in Paris began....miserably. Air France had lost our luggage and we hadn't yet gotten around to a Monoprix to get some needed items. We felt disheveled and dusty, more scruffy than usual. To cheer ourselves up, we decided to go to the Louvre: 2 weeks remained on the year membership we bought the previous year.

We were both pretty crabby because of jet-lag and so, a bit of miscommunication ensued. When we arrived, we only had Mr FS's card. We went to the office and Mr FS explained in French what had happened. 

And then we encountered our first bonafide French mean girl. She said that she couldn't look up the card. We explained that the previous year, Mr FS had LOST his card and the rep looked it up and replaced it. 

The rep said that was the procedure for lost cards. Forgotten cards were different. 

(?????)

Then the mean girl line. The rep said (this was all in French and even I could understand it!): "There's one way you can get into the Louvre today." LONG PAUSE. We looked hopeful. "Buy a ticket at the booth!" I swear she cackled. We got up to leave and didn't say anything. 

I think she was a bit embarrassed by her performance because she smiled rather sheepishly as we left.

We decided to walk around after that and somehow ended up in Hermes. No kidding.

P.S. Thanks to all for comments while we were away. My electronic devices were ill-performing and had teeny keyboards. So i could READ the comments even though I couldn't respond. Merci beaucoup!

Museum Bargains in Paris and other Unicorns

As travelers, Mr FS and I are easy to please: we like museums, historic houses, and long, long walks. We live in one of the foodie capitals of the US, if not the world, so we don't sweat the restaurants. I already have too much stuff (and Mr FS gets hives if he goes into a store), so I don't do much shopping other than for food at markets. 

Here's a reminder  about a little-known museum bargain. At least we didn't know about it till last year. First, we discovered the Louvre membership for "professionals" like teachers. That is 35 euros per person. Luckily, the one we got last year still will have almost two weeks on it when we return!

However, anyone can get a membership. It's 80 euros for a duo/family. Even for a short stay, that breaks even (close) at 3 visits for two. With a membership, you can avoid the line for tickets! You can also use a special member's entrance, which, in typical gallic fashion, has never been open--maybe once.

Psychologically, the membership enables you (at least us--we're cheap) to go for several short visits rather than one LONG visit. If you're willing to skip the Mona Lisa and the awful crowds in that room, you can go to some of the less visited parts. Mr FS and I fell in love with Chardin last year. The room was almost empty. (Note: the bathrooms in the underpopulated areas are usually line-free and have toilet paper!)

There's also the well-known Paris museum pass. You can buy it at any museum or at the bookstore fnac. I think we only did this once. Since we like to stay at museums for a long time, it's not a good bet for us. If you like shortish visits, it's good. Another advantage is that if you go to a DUD museum (Victor Hugo was a dud for us), you can leave quickly without guilt or remorse. You might want to visit anyway since it's in the beautiful Place des Vosges. You can also avoid some lines.

Many Paris museums are free on the first Sunday of the month. For the first time, we will be able to partake. Mr FS has already mapped out a route: Picasso, Pompidou/Beaubourg, and a few others.

Our best museum deal: last summer we stayed in a miserable TINY room whose saving grace was that it was near the Cluny. We were only there a few nights waiting for our regular place to be free. Not only was the room tiny, but it was filled with the owner's stuff: mostly massive quantities of linens, arranged in rainbow order. He also mirrored most of the walls in weird ways. (His larger apartment next door was similarly mirrored--including mirrors on the ceiling over the bed and on the surrounding walls-- and piled high with neatly folded stuff). I didn't realize how stressful the space was till we went to our next lodging: I fell asleep for several hours upon arrival. 

The Cluny, home of the gorgeous Unicorn tapestries. We wandered over, planning to buy a museum pass. The Cluny was free, owing to some issue with a strike or trains or something! We spent the morning there and then returned after lunch. The next morning, we returned and it was still free! So we did a very thorough job taking in the rooms we had not spent a lot of time in.

When we walked by the next day, we peeked in and things were up and running. We had other plans but we wanted to see how long the free days were in effect. We went in. Why? Because the Cluny has an accessible bathroom. Keep an eye out for those in Paris. They are sometimes as elusive as unicorns.

You Want to Watch My Daughter on Serbian Television, Right?

Thanks to all for helpful comments on my latest crisis, Mom's broker. The situation is getting closer to resolution. I HOPE.

And here, apropos of nothing relevant to this blog, is a clip from Mondo Television, featuring my artist daughter, who was supposed to return from Serbia  at the end of January, but has now decided to stay till the end of July.

So not one, but both my kids have been on television this year. That's really weird.

Declutter/Reclutter Report with Tradesy and Thredup and Buffalo Exchange

Miss Em (in absentia) and I continue to rework our wardrobes with the above venues. One thing about buying on the secondary market: one need not be racked with guilt at overspending. I have been reading various blogs on wardrobe construction and the guilt at overspending and resentment at being manipulated by salespeople is very dispiriting.

Tradesy: Miss Em and I continue to do pretty well with Tradesy. We just sold a bunch of Hermes ties. I was saving them for the men in my life and realized that Mr FS has worn a tie exactly 0 times in the past 5 years. Frugal Son wore a tie at a job interview a few years ago. We saved a few Ferragamos for him, but that's it.

WHAT I LIKE ABOUT TRADESY: You hold on to the item till it sells. You can sell items in less than pristine condition, as long as you are upfront about it. As might be expected, people search by brand (as on Ebay). So if you have "prestige" brands, go for it. We don't have much that is high end, of course (aside from those ties), but have done well with shoes (Naot, Dansko, and even a beat up pair of Tory Burch Revas that we sold for under $10 within ten minutes).

Interestingly, we have sold a lot on this site but have never bought anything. That is because the seller sets the price and most sellers put prices that are way too high. We put fairly low prices on everything.

THREDUP REPORT. We are the opposite on Thredup. We have bought 5 black Eileen Fisher skirts (Miss Em has high end taste for a 23 year old).  We especially like Eileen's washable crepe. These tend to be UNDERPRICED on the site because they are not listed as such. They are listed by fabric content. Since I know the crepe fabric content, I can buy with some confidence. (Hoping that Thredup is not reading this!)

We have never sold on the site. You send a bag; they pick what they want; they put extremely low prices on the items--and take less than 50% of what you send. You don't get the rejects back unless you pay a return fee. Check out the on-line reviews of Thredup. Sellers are miserable and angry  as a rule.

So in our experience, Tradesy is for selling and Thredup is for buying.

Yesterday, we had a bunch of errands in New Orleans. We topped off the day with free admission to a wonderful folk art show at the Ogden Museum of Southern Art. We had a bit of time before Frugal Son got home from work, so I took a bag of clothing to the Buffalo Exchange, conveniently located just a few blocks from Frugal Son's abode. While the hip fellow went through my bags, I looked around. This is a rare treat, since usually Miss Em looks and I stay with the buyer.

I found two items: an Eileen Fisher poncho sweater and a Nordstrom wool cape/jacket (each $17: the Buf is cheap). After deducting those purchases, I got $45 in cash!

Are my adventures in the clothing trade "worth it." Probably not for me in a financial sense. I have a job. For Miss Em--trying to set up a biz in the arts--yes. We both find the process relaxing and unstressful. In fact, it is a destresser for me. That alone would make it worth it. But I also like going to the Buf (as we call it) because I am of an age where young hipsters generally ignore me. TOTALLY. So I have to work a bit there to get some attention. Maybe it will keep me young(er), at least in spirit.

Clementine Hunter from the Gasperi Collection at the Ogden Museum of Southern Art. 

Tradesy, Ebay, Buffalo Exchange: Cash for Decluttering Report

So sad! Miss Em is back in Belgrade, for four months this time. While she was here, she spent a lot of time amassing items that were requested by friends. So much is unavailable there, or scarily expensive. Most US companies will not deliver to Serbia. Here's what she carried: a post-mastectomy bra and forms (unbelievable that these are not to be had there); melatonin, Opi nail polish, well, now I can't remember the other things. We live in such over-abundance.

I have lost my in-house beauty salon operator (thanks for the haircut) and--perhaps most needed--my personal declutter assistant.

Here are the final numbers for her 2 months back in the USA. She got to keep all the money (much-needed) and I got a little breathing space.

TRADESY: An astonishing $800!
Ebay: An astonishing $500plus, mostly for two Filson garments!
Buffalo Exchange: A pretty good $200.

Miss Em also picked up some cash by taking care of a kid for a weekend. She was able to spend the rest of her time planning for her return to Belgrade, getting her art website set up, and applying to a grad program.

If you want some glimpses of our trip to the Balkans, see her tumblr: she captured so much of what we did, especially some of the little moments that truly define a vacation.

In a Belgrade Cemetery

Two summers ago, Mr FS and I went to Vienna, where my mother was born in 1930.  Last summer, we went to Belgrade, where my mother and her parents (and other family members) stayed (1938) before emigrating to the United States.

A most moving part of our journey: a visit to a cemetery in Belgrade.

Image courtesy of my daughter. See her Tumblr for more travel illustrations or her website for more.

How I Ended Up with a Wedding Dress and What Will Become of It: Tales from the Thrift Store

A while ago, I was at one of the two thrift stores I frequent. There was a huge rack of used wedding dresses at ridiculous prices (high ones, that is). Needless to say--having already done a wedding in a green dress at the courthouse--I did not give them more than a glance.

The employee asked me if I wanted a wedding dress. I said no, for the above reason. He said We'll never sell them and they are taking up a lot of space. You can have them for $3 each.

I felt a bit sorry for him. So I picked out JUST ONE, figuring I could perhaps take it to the Buffalo Exchange for Halloween. I took a silk one and thought that the creative and handy Miss Em could use the fabric for something. Two possibilities.

Miss Em and I asked at the Buf. No, they didn't want wedding dresses for Halloween. Miss Em thought the dress was too nice to cut up. We put it in the DONATE pile.

Then--the fateful sentence: Maybe I'll try this on.  Then an exclamation: It fits perfectly.

We put it back in the DONATE pile. Miss Em is not planning a wedding at the moment and she's sufficiently contrarian to NOT want a traditional white dress.

An hour later, another fateful sentence: I've always wanted to make a Snow Queen costume for Halloween.

No, I am not allowed to post a photo. (Below from Once Upon a Time wiki)

The Snow Queen

A Less Frugal, But Still Very Frugal Day in New Orleans

I've been wanting to write about my vow to be somewhat LESS frugal going forward. You see, I turned 60 recently. I'm too old for early retirement. What I do in the next five years in the frugal department won't make that big a difference. My house is paid off; my kiddos are done with college.

It's hard to change old habits. Actually, I think I may be hard-wired for frugality.

Yesterday, my family of three (Frugal Son is elsewhere) went to New Orleans.

First stop: Buffalo Exchange with bunch of stuff.

Next stop: Palace Cafe for the special summer Temperature Lunch, where you get a soup/salad and entree for the preceding day's high temp!

Third Stop: New Orleans Museum of Art, free for residents on Wednesdays.

Fourth Stop: We had parked at Canal Place, an upscale shopping venue. If you buy something, you get reduced parking.  We got a coffee at Starbucks.

Outcomes

Buffalo Exchange: Oops! Accidentally brought a box full of intended discards. This box lowered the "look" of our good stuff. Plus, the buyer stopped after 10 minutes to take an Advil, which didn't kick in till after she was finished. More plus, the young woman selling next to us--who looked like nothing special--had brought in boxes of Louboutin shoes and Chanel boots (among other upscale stuff), which further downgraded our items. Still, we got almost $70, even after Miss Em used some of the credit on a lovely tunic.

Palace Cafe: Pretty good but very noisy. Salad was Caesar; soup was red bean, main was chicken and dumplings. I don't think I'd go for regular price because there are much better options in NOLA. The high temperature was 89 degrees, so each lunch was $8.90. We were too full for a real dinner.

Museum: Two wonderful special exhibits, one on the Spanish-American home and one on the murals at Talledega College.

Canal Place: We ran into the person who watched our house while we were gone! A pleasant surprise.

I asked Miss Em how I was doing on getting the pathological out of my frugality. She started laughing. A good day all in all.

BEST handbag for travel: I'm not kidding

BEST TRAVEL HANDBAG EVER: a totally fortuitous discovery.

I am no longer a very devoted blog-writer, but my devoted readers may recall my trip to Chicago last spring. Mr FS and I went to a conference and in our off-time decided to focus on the Art Institute of Chicago. So we bought a membership.

Besides the art, the best thing about the membership was the lounge, which provided respite from the crowds and also provided very good coffee. We also got a tote bag.

The tote bag is plain: black on one side, it proclaims Art Institute of Chicago in white letters on the other side. It also has Member printed on it. The handles are a good length, suitable for shoulder AND hand carrying (unlike the iconic LL Bean tote, where you have to choose one or the other).

It is of lightish-weight canvas and has a coating inside that makes it waterproof. Zip top.  It has a tiny zip compartment where you can put your absolute necessities (for me, a credit card, a lipstick, and some dental floss).

I took the tote on our trip as a backup (haha) and ended up using it every day. Not only is it lightweight and aesthetically pleasing, but it is socioeconomically ambiguous. I have never bought anything emblazoned with a logo, but this particular logo has--i think--an interesting effect.

It is clearly an inexpensive tote, yet it proclaims affiliation with a cultural institution. Most handbags nowadays proclaim their cost, sad but true. Two summers ago I saw several women in Paris holding big Hermes bags across their chests. Truly, the effect was like holding a giant price tag.

My bag could take me anywhere. Was I a penurious artist? a philanthropist? I could be anything. The zip top would foil pickpockets, but would anyone in that line of work be attracted to a cheap tote anyway? I don't think so.

That logo though:  it gives the bag that certain cultured je ne sais quoi. I could even wear it to Hermes. Though I didn't.

The Best Deal in Chicago: Joining the Art Institute

Mr FS and I spent a bit of time in Chicago recently. We went to a conference and did some conference-like things.  We spent a lot of time in Chicago in days of yore and did all the tourist must-dos. This time, we decided to go for broke in our out-of-conference activities. Craving beauty, we joined the Art Institute! For a year. For 5 days.

It costs $23 for a ticket to the Institute. The base membership costs $90 for an adult and GUEST. We also got a 10% discount for living far away. So for $81 we had 5 days of bliss (we went twice a day, since our hotel was a short walk away.)

We also got free admission to special exhibits (only one, as far as we could tell). A chic tote bag with a zipper. Early entry into the recently re-opened modern art galleries.

And--drumroll, please--entry into the Member's Lounge, which had comfy Eames and Barcelona chairs (and other iconic designs) and FREE COFFEE and TEA. Good coffee too--Illy. Mr FS and I joked that the coffee almost covered the membership. We also got to hear bits and pieces of very cultured conversations. Treats all around.

Mr FS--artiste--made a sale!

Yay! Three upper-middle class ladies came over and one bought a piece. It was his smallest, cheapest, and most primitive. Now he knows.

We are rather reclusive, so we await Miss Em's return. She wants to see if she can enter the art biz and she can help her dad on teh way.

Thanks to all for your fine advice.

Advice Needed: How Much to Charge for Outside Outsider Art?

A few years ago, Mr FS, who heretofore had evinced no interest in his artistic side, began to make creatures of wood. I suppose he can be classed as an outsider artist since he has never had a lesson. Still, he has been to the Louvre and other major museums, so I suppose he's a semi-outsider. The art is definitely outside.

The creatures reside on our fence and the outside walls of our house. They have been attracting a lot of attention from dog walkers and walkers. Many ask if they are for sale. So far, we've said NO. But the creatures are multiplying a bit too fast and this morning a prominent local resident, who has been involved in the local arts community, said she'd like to buy one, and to help us sell them. She knows well-connected types, and hinted at a freebie or cut price for herself.

The prominent resident told Mr FS he would have to determine a price. (Earlier she had herself suggested something like $1,000. This seemed crazy to us!) Of course, teacher types like ourselves tend to undervalue our time and our labor. So, Readers, another question: how much could Mr FS charge for these large creatures, some of which take him more than 30-40

hours to complete?

A Hays Town: In the Midst of Stress, Beauty (Frugal for Me)

After a day so stressful I could hardly speak (the stressful pinnacle was notice of a certified letter from the Dreaded Dentist), Mr FS and I went to a musical event organized by some music-loving acquaintances. After Katrina, this pro-active, supportive of musicians duo began hosting soirees in their home. They invite VERY good musicians (lots of choose from in the area) and the guests bring a dish to share and about $15 a head to pay the musicians. This being Louisiana, the food is as good as the music. We count ourselves fortunate to be on the guest list of these events.

Now the events are hosted by many people, at least those with homes big enough (ours is not) to accommodate 25 plus guests plus a musician or three. Yesterday, we were in a home designed by A Hays Town, an eminent architect who died in 2005 at 101 years of age. Most of Town's homes are very large, built for very wealthy people. This one was of more human (to me) dimensions.

Town is famous for using old regional materials: wood and bricks especially. This house was designed for some friends and so was more modest than his usual work. The front part of the house was a cottage from the 1830s (moved from South Louisiana), onto which was appended an addition of old bricks and wood (old bricks and wood=frugal!!). I can hardly describe how beautiful the home was.  One guest said the house even smelled good.

The current owners bought the house from the original owners after Katrina. I am glad I got to visit (and we were all told we could visit any time). While we were all waxing ecstatic about the privilege of living in such a masterpiece, the owner said the house was extremely high maintenance. The husband mows the 7.5 acres with a tractor (ugh). The house itself takes a lot of care.

I might fantasize about living in such a beautiful space, but I see that the beauty is a frugal experience for visitors, but not for the owners. Still, it has long been my fantasy to be INSIDE one of Town's homes and now I have realized that fantasy.


I own this beautiful book, which some madman donated to Goodwill many years ago.

For more views of Town's houses, you can google about. I like the interiors better than the exteriors, most of which are too massive for my humble aesthetic.

Snippets from Serbia

Some musings from Miss Em on stuff and money, here and in Serbia. And, in the doting Mama department, here are more charming snippets from her life there.



Second musing has to do with the ways in which money and cultural value systems collide. I was thinking about the things that are expensive in the States versus what is expensive here: in the States, services and experiences are expensive while objects are cheap. Here, many objects are expensive, but services and experiences are cheap. In Serbia, clothes, makeup, furniture: all expensive. But transportation, food, beauty salons, barber shops: all cheap. That is basically an inverse situation from the States, where (good) food is expensive, a visit to the hair salon costs $50, but you can buy clothes and objects in abundance. Here: cafes on every corner. In the States: Dollar Stores and Targets. The monetary differences indicate deeper ideological cultural differences: here, the cultural norm elevates enjoying life, the dailyness of it, the coffees and getting a good shave and eating food and the like. In the States, luxury experiences are exorbitantly expensive: the salon, Disney World, coffee. But the things are cheap, and people base experiences around accumulation of things. And then, what do you do? You sit amidst your things and develop desires for more things. You know I’m a great lover of things—and people here are too; just look at the care they take getting dressed!—but I’m talking here on a broad cultural scale. Our economy and culture and absorbed value system promotes the one-dollar section at Target, so much “fast fashion,” but meanwhile $5 Starbucks lattes are grabbed to-go, not meant to be lingered over. Here, a $1 espresso gets you five hours in a café, or more, if you want it. I don’t know, I probably didn’t express that well. But looking at the things the economy encourages its citizens to buy—in the States, lots of trinkets and material things; here, services and experiences—must inform values on a deep level. Right? Or did the value systems inform the economy? I’m a bit more pessimistic than that, and tend to think the economy/money controls us and not vice versa.

I think this is also linked to an American cultural fear of death and transience. An unwillingness to engage with it. Things last, at least in concept. Experiences, like life, are transient. We hate to consider our own transience. Funeral culture: in the States, it’s all about buying the expensive coffin and having the right things at the funeral, but cemeteries are largely unvisited. Here, the gravestone is important, sure, but people also spend lots of time visiting cemeteries, honoring the dead with time rather than materials. It would take a bit longer to focus this theory that our cultural fixation with material goods is linked to our cultural fear of engaging with mortality, but honestly, I think there’s something to it!

Dismantling a Household: Advice Needed

Though I wrote a bit on the happy event of Frugal Son getting a job and setting up a mini-household in a tiny New Orleans apartment, I did not write about a sad event. The death--not unexpected, but devastating nonetheless--of my much-loved and esteemed father-in-law.

He lived in northern California, near his daughter, in a house full of memories and mementoes of 45 years in a big house in Pasadena. Now, in addition to the emotional issues, we have to face the issues both emotional and pragmatic of what we will take. The other children--in the same town and in Seattle--have already taken their chosen objects.

Nothing is valuable in a monetary sense. But my in-laws were great makers and collectors of objects: handmade crafts of my mother-in-law (some of whose sweaters I posted in the early days of this blog), furniture built by my father-in-law, plus collections of bells, glassware, etc etc.

And the books! My father-in-law, an English professor, had, I would say, one of the most beautiful minds I have ever encountered. He also had a house full of books: poetry, music theory, and Roman history make up the bulk of it. Do I need to mention that Mr FS shares his father's profession and love of the first two categories.

Mr FS will have to go through the process of deciding what to take and what to leave behind. Does anyone have any advice--even a reference to some good books on the topic--of how to deal with the pragmatics of moving many small and a few largish objects?

Any words of experience would be much appreciated.

Friends and Artists and Thrift Stores

An artist friend from the past, Joyce Koskenmaki, once defined a true friend as "someone you could go to thrift stores with." So true, dear Joyce, though I haven't seen you in almost twenty years--or even heard from you in nearly ten.

In fact, it is with a twinge of sadness that I realize that I don't currently have a thrift store friend, though Miss Em and I have become a great team on the too-seldom occasions when we are in the same place.

Still, thrift stores are the sites of relationships, albeit usually superficial ones. For years, I had seen an extremely tall woman at the thrifts. She was usually accompanied by a very short older woman. A few years ago, we broke the silence. I mentioned that my daughter liked her handbag, avery beat-up funky leather one.Then last year, we met at the linens and she showed me some nice things she didn't have a use for. Some of which I bought--with thanks.

After that, the boundaries came down. We exchanged first names (though it took me a while to remember hers). I learned that she and her husband owned a horse farm. I learned that the short woman was her 90 year old mother, who is in splendid shape, both mental and physical. We would show each other things we thought the other might like.

We haven't met for a while, since Goodwill moved to a new location. Yesterday, I ran into her (and called her by the wrong name!!! Shameful!!!). She was so happy to see me: I'm trying to get rid of stuff and I've been carrying that purse your daughter admired in my car. Wow!

I asked for her address so Miss Em could send a thank you note. She gave me her card and divulged that she had a website where she sold jewelry made from bits and pieces of things she finds. She also revealed that she is a jewelry expert of sorts: good stuff just falls into my hands, which is the exact thing I say about clothing. I would rather have magnetism for vintage silver pieces than for cashmere sweaters, but I suppose one has to accept the gifts one is given.

So she gave me her card so I could see her website. Check it out! Shades of Joseph Cornell.