Sandy’s 76 Chevy

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There are some memories that we try to hold onto and some memories that we would like to forget. I like to think of the forgetting process as pruning my brain cells. I want to get rid of all of the bad stuff so that at the end of my life, only the good memories remain.

Then there are the times when memories return unbidden. There is no real reason for why a forgotten memory has returned and sometimes it lacks context. I had that experience the other day when I took the car out for a drive. I was having a trying day and just needed to get out of the house. 

Of all things, and of all people, the memory was of Sandy’s 76 Chevy. At first blush, it had to do with the car – not the one I was driving, but Sandy’s 76 chevy. You see, the key had broken off in the ignition of the vehicle. There was a portion of the key permanently stuck there. So every time we got in the car to go someplace, Sandy would reach under the seat for a screw driver. The screw driver would help turn the ignition to turn on the car. Then the screwdriver would lie on the floor. We would drive around with a keyless car.

At least, the car did not have the traditional danging cluttered keychain with paraphernalia that was so popular in the 80s and early 90s.

But the memory of Sandy’s 76 chevy was much more than just driving around in a car with no key.

I was 11. Sandy was 15. The driving age at the time was 15. Of course, Sandy was driving. She had a baby that just turned one and needed to be able to drive the baby to its appointments and herself to work. Sandy’s parents kicked her out when she got pregnant. So, like most of us of that generation, Sandy started working when she was 13. I consider myself privileged in that I was able to wait until age 14 to start working.

Sandy was a friend of my cousin. We were “paired together” by the adults in our life. The idea was that by saddling Sandy down with me there would be someone with her to be sure she was taking care of the baby. The idea was that by saddling me with Sandy I would get the message to not get pregnant. At age 11, I wasn’t even sure how that happened.

This was the day and age when victims of sexual abuse were always blamed. It you were being sexually abused, it was your fault. You were “promiscuous.” The fear was always pregnancy. Even if you were too young to understand the abuse, you were always framed as someone who didn’t mind adults and was at risk of becoming even more of a liability than you already were just by existing. That’s what it was like growing up in a small town in the 1980s.

So, Sandy and I were hanging out in an effort to teach each other something.

Sandy spent a lot of time driving around trying to calm the baby. That meant we spent a lot of time in the car driving around, singing and talking. The car was littered with debris. There were food wrappers everywhere, and if you rummaged around, there were a bunch of tapes in there too. We would pop a tape in the deck and sing along to Bon Jovi and Poison. We just kept driving until the baby fell asleep.

Sandy would drive us on old back country roads. Even though Sandy was 15 and old enough to drive, she got sick of driving all the time. Sometimes she would let me drive. Yes, it was illegal, but we were 11 and 15, alone in the country. Who was there to care?

I did not like driving much at the time. I hated being responsible for such a large vehicle with Sandy and the baby in it. The car seemed huge to me. It could have been just because I was 11 and was small.

Sandy had also picked up the habit of smoking. She had started smoking at age 10. Back in the 80s, you could purchase cigarettes from vending machines. I remember being sent into bars and stores to purchase cigarettes from vending machines. They cost 90 cents. You would drop in the coins, then pull the lever under the ones you wanted and they would drop down below. 

When Sandy was low on cash, which was always, we would stop at some off-the-path roadside bar. Sandy would run in to grab an ashtray. Among all the other debris in the car, there was always bobby pins. The bobby pins were usually connected to the scrunchies that were floating around.

Sandy would take the butts from the ashtrays and determine which discards still had enough tobacco left in them to be smoked. The stubs were way to small to hold without being burned. This is where the bobby pins came in. She would put the bobby pin on the stub to hold it so that the last of the tobacco could be smoked. This was a common practice of the time. Many kids in the 80s started smoking by taking their parents’ discarded butts and using bobby pins to smoke the ends of them.

Sandy worked at a local fast food place. She took the baby to a babysitter while she worked. Thankfully, I was never asked to babysit. The adults just wanted me to spend time with Sandy to see how hard it was to be a teenage mom. Although, they neglected to tell me anything about how babies were made or how to prevent one. Not to mention, I was not willingly engaging in any activities to produce one. I did get the message that I never wanted to be a mom. Being a mom was a very bad thing. Message received.

While preventing teen pregnancy may have been the intended message of my time with Sandy, what I remember the most is the car. I remember driving around in the car with no keys singing along to the cassette deck. 

They don’t make cars that you can drive around with no keys anymore.

Technically, they have cars now with push button starts, but it’s not the same. The cars with push button starts have a lot of technology that enables them to work. Sandy’s 76 chevy was a car that would start if you just fiddled with a screwdriver. Do a little turn, make the connection, and off we would go. It was the type of car you would just drive until it died. Then when it died, you would beat it up a bit until it started working again, and drive it some more.

Of all memories to arrive unbidden, I received the one of Sandy’s 76 chevy. I have no idea whatever happened to Sandy or the baby. Somewhere in the recesses of my brain, I remember that car.

Good riddance to bad karma

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In my efforts to purge, downsize, simplify and minimize, perhaps the most difficult objects to make decisions about are those with sentimental value. I am definitely not one of those minimalists that have blank, white walls and only a certain number of items in my home. My goal in simplifying and minimizing is to have more time and space in my life for what is most important and to only be surrounded by people, things, and experiences that I love.

If I have fewer things, I spend less time cleaning, and more time engaged in activities with family and friends that I love. If I have less things, and someone spontaneously says, let’s pack a bag and go to Europe (wishful thinking, but just saying), my response would be an avid “yes” with no hesitation, as I would not have to worry about a bunch of stuff holding me down.

While some of my early years in life were very challenging bouncing around trying to get an education and housing, I have to say that they were the most freeing times of my life. There is freedom in the fact that I hitch hiked the west coast in the 90s with only a backpack. While I am much more settled now and have all the accoutrements needed in a household, having only what I absolutely need and love in my life enables me to regain some sense of that feeling of freedom.

It is very easy to go through the house and purge items that are multiples of each other. Did you get married recently and end up with three blenders? Even if you are the green smoothie queen, I hardly doubt you run all three at the same time. Most people can get by with one. Do I really need 37 coffee mugs? Yes, 37 coffee mugs. I recently took them all out of the cupboard and counted them. That’s a mug for every day of the month without doing dishes. Who doesn’t do dishes? I kept my 6 favorites and donated the rest.

I really won’t go there (yet) when it comes to sentimental items like that jean jacket you wore to high school football games or a copy of your graduation announcement, but when it comes to items with bad karma, it’s time to let it go.

Sometimes we hang on to things not because they are functional or useful, but because they evoke certain emotions and memories when we look at them. If those are happy times, then okay, but if not: let it go.

Some bad karma items to which I recently said good riddance and could not be happier about it include:

  • A dress I wore last fall to the apple orchard with someone who I was dating, and the relationship ended very poorly. Every time I looked at the dress, I would remember the apple orchard day, and I haven’t worn it since.
  • The travel mug that was in my backpack when I hitch hiked both the west and east coasts. It was my only “dish” and I drank and ate everything out of it. I don’t need to be reminded every day of how hard life used to be. I am where I am right now and right now, I have bowls and plates and glasses.
  • The strappy heels I wore to a wedding, which spent their time on the dance floor by themselves under a table because they were so uncomfortable, I spent more time barefoot than I did wearing them.
  • The blanket that was a wedding present 15 years ago. I have since divorced, and I have many other blankets. I do not need that one to remind me of a failed marriage. I have learned from my experience and moved on.
  • Cigarette. I quit smoking years ago, but have always kept a pack in my center console “just in case.” I haven’t touched them in years. I don’t need the reminder. My life is different now. I threw them away.

Sometimes when you look at something, it brings up memories that are painful, or reminds you of a time that was really challenging for you. Those are the things you need to kick to the curb and let go. Do not let baggage bring you down. If it is not purposeful, serving you in some way, or actively contributing to your current happiness, then it is time to say goodbye to bad karma.

Some items are there to remind you of challenges you have overcome or survived, like the cigarettes I had in my console. I don’t need them to remind myself that I was able to quit smoking. I have 13 marathon medals that prove I quit smoking and live a healthier life.

Bad karma can be hard to identify sometimes. It could be something you use everyday “just because.” Evaluate the items in your life to be sure that they are either useful or bring you joy. Life is too short to hang onto reminders of miserable times.

Finally, it is also important to remember that it is not just things that can produce bad karma. Toxic relationships and people, bad habits, negative reinforcing behaviors are all things we need to break up with. I recently went off the grid and kicked my face book account to the curb because it was making me sad. I stopped making the effort to talk to, call, and text people who never take the initiative to talk to, call or text me. Relationships are a two-way street. If you are the only one doing the work, it may be time to engage in some self-care and disengage from people who either don’t care or give you nothing in return. I am now having higher quality interactions with the people I want to have in my life.

Is there a bad habit you want to give up? Quit smoking or engage in healthier activities? Do it. Say goodbye to bad karma and make changes in your life. Don’t wait for New Year’s or the first of the month. You get one life. The time is now.

Say good riddance to bad karma and dissociate from the things in life that harm you. If it is not helping you, serving a purpose, or bringing you joy, it is time to let go. Life is way too short to hang onto that which brings you down.

What bad karma items, people or habits in your life can you kick to the curb?