It was one of those split-second
decisions. Which is not normally how I operate. FlyLady (http://flylady.net/) said that I
had to clean out from under my bed last week, and when FlyLady
speaks, I've learned to listen.
I knew what was under that bed. Almost
forty years worth of a collection that has now spanned two
generations. When I was eleven, I took a summer school class in
biology. (Yes, for fun. Call it weird if you want. I'm OK with that.)
In that class, we learned two things: how to play Frisbee, and how to
collect insects. I'm still pretty good at both.
Collecting insects appealed to me,
because 1) I love collecting things; 2) I love identifying things;
and 3) I love wildlife. And no, it is not inhumane, since, as was
pointed out to me, insects live for a grand total of about two weeks
anyway. So it's not like you're ridding the planet of the spotted
snow leopard or anything.
Later, two daughters would continue the
saga, and one would amass a hefty collection of 4H championship
trophies for those efforts. Her work was superior, by any standards.
But it was time, I realized, for that
collection that we have all stopped adding to to find a new home.
I've been avoiding that decision for years, because parting with
almost 40 years of memories, hard work, and a great deal of family
memories into is a tough, tough thing to do. So before I could
rethink it, I googled natural history museums, dashed an email off to
one of them, and offered up those years.
Reaction of daughters who owned part of
collection:
#1—Well, OK, I guess. Maybe. But can
I look at it one last time?
#3—Psh. So?
You can guess which one won the
trophies.
So on a very rainy day last week, nine
boxes of six-legged critters found a new home at the Midwest Museum of Natural
History (http://www.mmnh.org/). To say the staff was ecstatic when they saw the
extent of their bequeathment (I thinkI just created that word) is
like saying the Field Museum was happy to acquire Sue.
Which is what made the parting easier.
Someone will love that collection. Kids will learn from it. Instead
of being tucked under my bed with nowhere to display them, they're
out in the world. (And really, my friends already think I'm odd. How
do you think they'd feel about us if we did display nine boxes of
dead insects in strategic locations around our house? “Hi—welcome
to dinner. Oh, don't mind the giant wasp behind the table. Just part
of our ambiance.”)
Bottom line: They're being used and
profiting other people in a way they could not in our possession. And people think we're generous benefactors instead of scary psycho freaks. It's a win-win.
Do you have things like that in your
home? Or maybe not tangible things in your home, but perhaps cramming
your soul? Those things that may have been useful and valuable once,
but now they are collecting cobwebs? A lot of us have talents hiding
under our proverbial beds, or gifts that we hold close rather than
use. We've been storing them up, but no one is benefitting from them
because we are afraid or too busy to take them out and set them free.
I look forward to a trip to the museum
to see our collection finding new life. Dust off a talent or two and
see what you can do, as well.
No comments:
Post a Comment