Its Just a Potbelly Stove

It all started with the twist and pop of the cap.  The familiar and memory-inducing scent escaped that old can, and the memories flooded in.  The snapshots became visible in my brain. As I poured the thick liquid onto the soft, white cloth, more scenes from my childhood started playing on the movie screen that is always open for business in my head.

“Unlike the other senses, olfactory nerves go to two destinations in our brain; one is the frontal cortex, where we consciously recognize a scent. The second destination is the limbic area of the brain, which is a more primitive and ancient part of the brain dealing with emotion, motivation and types of memory.” Dr. Maggie Grotzinger.

We’ve all experienced it. It could be a flower, a food, a perfume, any one of thousands of smells that bring a memory into our heads and transport us back to that place, sometimes good and sometimes bad. Today, that smell for me was Brasso.  Oh yes, Brasso was a big smell in my house as a child.  My dad liked shiny things. He was always shining something up with the Brasso.  Here is the short list - barber chairs, spittoons, car bumpers, knobs and handles, old fire extinguishers, and the potbelly stove. The potbelly stove.  That’s what I intended to write about initially, or maybe it was the power of our sense of smell - oh well.  My mind is like the pachinko machine we used to have, little chrome balls bouncing from here to there and back again. Did he polish those little balls too?  Not that I remember, but I can see it happening. Anyways, back to the potbelly stove; that beautiful piece of décor that has adorned my dining room for well over 30 years that brings back so many great memories….

I’m selling it.

Yes, you read correctly.  I’m selling it. But I just wrote all those great things about the memories and happy times.  It fits my dining room like a glove and is a topic of conversation and beauty in the house. I’m selling it.

I appreciate it, I don’t love it.  It has served its purpose and the time has come for it to move to a house where the new owner loves it. 

Before my dad passed away, he did his best to help ease what he knew was going to be the hardest part of my life. He lived here during his last six months and we had a lot of great conversations.  Knowing he was leaving me with a mess of things, he talked a lot about my being able to let go and get rid of the things that belonged to him and my mom.  I listened of course, I always listened to what he had to say, but carrying through has been a whole other story.

Nearly seven years later, I still have a mess of things. I’m doing better with letting go, but it has taken me a very long time.  Enter – the potbelly stove. I kind of remember when we got it. I was maybe 10? 12? 15? Not sure.  I also kind of remember that he asked me to “go in on it” with him. Now I’m not really sure why.  I’m guessing it was some sort of lesson in investing or partnership or something, or maybe he just didn’t have enough money.  There is no way to ever find out.  So, one way or another, either through inheritance, because it was left here when they moved out in 1991, or I am the proud half-owner, the potbelly stove is mine, and I am ready to let it go.

I’m starting to let more and more things go.  Things my parents love, collected, and used.  Some are beautiful and have some monetary worth and some are simply just crap and I have no idea why I have continued to hang on to them.  But, it doesn’t really seem to matter which group the items are in, it is still difficult to let them go.

I’m grateful for my time with the old stove. I have my memories of smell and mental snapshots. Those I carry with me.  As my collection of material items becomes smaller, my mind and heart become more full.  I welcome the trade-off.

Want to buy a potbelly stove?

New View

Divided-lite.  Even the name suggests an unclear view.  Sometimes old, outdated views need to be replaced, and opened up to a clearer picture.

Windows? Yes.  Life?  Yes.

Part of our three-room remodel involves replacing 60-year-old windows.  The wooden, divided-lite windows that are currently in the house look great when you drive down the old, dirt road and glance toward the ranch-style home.  They blend, they fit, and they seem to be aesthetically pleasing.  Is that enough?  Am I o.k. with inefficient, outdated windows that restrict my view and cloud my vision?  No. Sure, 60 years ago they worked.  They don’t work now.  60 years ago that’s what people had, they didn’t have many choices and they were comfortable with them.  I want my vision to improve; I want my views to be as open and beautiful as possible. 

Windows?  Yes.  Life?  Yes.

Bill replaced the first window of the remodel yesterday.  The dining room window that looks beyond the crepe myrtle and toward to the yard, the little free library, and an old plaster building across the street.  I love looking through that window.  I see a lot of things I love when I look out there.  I’m used to it, I’ve been looking out that window for over 50 years.  A standard double-hung wood window, divided into eight parts by wood that has been painted over with many, many coats of paint; a screen on the outside restricting the clarity and taking away from the vivid and beautiful colors of the yard. The old glass is scratched, thin, and like the other windows in the house, has a slight wave to it, which adds some distortion.  In addition to the appearance of the old windows, they aren’t efficient.  They don’t work properly anymore.  They don’t fully open, some don’t open at all. They have been painted shut and the longer they (and we) remain comfortable with that stubbornness, cloudy vision, and inefficiency, the longer our beautiful visions will be blocked. 

Windows?  Yes.  Life?  Yes.

Its not always easy working on a remodel.  Sometimes it’s hard to let go of things that remind us of good times and how things used to be. Change can be difficult and scary.  Is the new better?  And what do we mean by better?  Is better about looks, efficiency, the new view we will have? Will the unknown make me happy or will I long to go back to what seemed to be comfortable even though it wasn’t the best. 

A new window.  A window divided only in to two parts, and then only because it needs those to parts to open fully and bring in lots of fresh air into the house.  Double-thick glass to keep the house cool in the summer and warm in the winter.  The new screen only covers the bottom half of the fully functioning window.  Why restrict the entire view when you can open your eyes to see more clearly?

The new window was installed with great care and precision. It looks great, it works well, and it is one more step in what will be a long process in remodeling.  Moving forward. That new window yesterday is not just a new window.  It kind of symbolizes how I’ve been feeling lately – wanting a clearer view, a new vision, one that will be more efficient and open me up to more beauty that the world has to offer.  Not every house can have all new windows.  Some need to work with the ones they have.  Fresh paint, maybe a little sand paper to smooth out rough edges, and sometimes the glass needs a lot of work to be able to see out clearly, but the view can always be improved.  I want to see it, and help open it up to others so that they may see it too.  No more divided-lites.

Windows?  Yes.  Life?  Yes.

“Better keep yourself clean and bright.  You are the window through which you must see the world.” 

~  George Bernard Shaw