My wife has often referred to me as having the heart and mindset of a gypsy. The first time she told me this I realized she was right.
I knew without question that was who I am. It made so much sense to me to simply accept this definition of who I was.
It explained my dislike of homeownership in a society that values homeownership. It explains why I find myself becoming antsy after a few years in one place and begin looking around thinking it would not be too bad living in a new neighborhood.
I came about this gypsy mentality not just genetically but through environmental influence. Growing up my father was a rolling stone that gathered no moss. Many a time we moved regardless of school year from east coast to the west coast to the south coast (Gulf Coast). I can tell folks honestly that I have been or lived in very state south of the Ohio and west of the Mississippi River.
As a kid I came to value a sleeping bag for it meant I always had a place to sleep even it was on the side of the road with a curb bumper for a pillow. I have absolutely no problem falling asleep with stranger walking by but will be instantly awake if they should come too close. My wife is the only one who can walk up on me as I nap and not awake me.
I know what it is like to live in a house without heat or electricity because we didn’t have the deposit or could not pay the bill.
I know what it is like to appreciate a mayonnaise sandwich. To miss meals because there wasn’t anything there to eat. Growing up beans and fried potatoes were our nightly fare. If we had cornbread it was considered a luxury. Meat was regulated to a Sunday dinner if then. Breakfast was often grits without sugar or butter, which to this day I still can’t eat grits. Once I started working I didn’t pay it any mind missing lunch and often forgo it saving the money for other things. Eating was something I sought out to do not something I had to do. This came from my growing up on the move.
I grew up understanding not to get too attach to physical items as those items might be sold to fiancé the next move. As a result I all too often am ready to sell my possessions to help a member of my family resulting in going from a shop full of tools to one with just enough tools to do minor repairs to our living quarters or automobile. That is where I am right now with my tools, starting over. I think though I will keep them portable as we are looking for a place to live and a carport may be what I have as a working space vs. a 2 car garage I have now. But this ideal of my gypsy mentality helps to understand why I like reading about guys who have setup shops in small spaces keeping their tools portable.
I have been through at least 3 collections of books in my lifetime and this despite my love of books. It is just too easy to sell in times of need or lack of space in the trailer. Growing up I often saw my books come and go but there were always a few on me at all times. One would be of course a pocket version of the Holy Bible, a book of poems for young adults, and usually Mark Twain’s “Huckleberry Fin. It is one reason I value Public Libraries for I could always find one with something as well as a place to read. But today I as I grow older I find myself reluctant to let go books. I find comfort in seeing them on their shelf and holding them in my hand reading a few favorite passages.
This love of books and reluctancy in getting rid of them is one reason I have been considering bookshelf’s made in the style that Thomas Jefferson used. His ideal was to use 3 ft. long shelf’s of varying heights to accommodate books that these elongated cubes could be unstack using them as crated for his books when he moved about from his home in Monticello or Philadelphia or in Washington DC. Then on arrival restacked and ready for use. I am seriously thinking of doing this for my own books not only for the next move but for the rest home where I most likely finish this life up in.
In the end growing up with a nomadic or gypsy environment I believe your emphasis tends to be family first before possessions. That there is always room for one more in the house and at the table. That the pundits are wrong who say “He who dies with the most toys Wins”. But rather, he who is missed most in his passing that will be valued and remembered wins in the end.
I know that this was a little bit different post for me but it might help explain my strong liberal leanings for the downtrodden and distrust of the establishment.
Projects and Movies
This week I plan on tackling a remote caddy and will post photos when completed. I am still thinking about ways that I can improve the iphone docking station as I feel like it’s footprint is still too large and I am uncomfortable with the way it stands unsupported fearing that the plug might become damaged. I have this 3 inch square chunk of rosewood that I keep trying to think of a way to make it work. I just not sure as to how to do it.
One type of movie I like is what I call a slice of life movie. These movies tend to be just a short section of a characters’ life that usually is in a time of change. This past week Reba and I watched “The Narrows” a movie about a young mans desire to break away from his Brooklyn Neighborhood becoming a photographer. I thought it was rather good for a indie flick with a number of well known stars.
Enough for now.