The second great benefit to the Crapture is having access to your entire past. When one's parents save crap the way my parents saved everything, even the fifth child winds up with a lot of stuff. Report cards from the Dawn of Time. Locks of my hair. Teeth purchased back from the Tooth Fairy. Cards from the baby shower the ladies of First United Methodist Church gave for my mother. Cards from my birth. Cards from my first birthday.
I was particularly looking forward to seeing my school papers. My sister has artwork from her childhood framed in her home. Surely my mother saved some of mine.
Well, she did, all right. Here's one:
Apparently, as a baby, I admired Jackson Pollock.
Apparently I also wasn't encouraged to draw as often as my older siblings were. As the five of us went through the house, we found endless pictures of houses with families standing outside holding hands, contributed by my sister. The swamp scenes showing innumerable and varied dinosaurs, all snarling, came from oldest brother. Even my middle brother had scenes saved for posterity. His were armies of dogs (all named Morgan, after his favorite stuffed dog) doing battle with other dog armies.
But the acknowledged family artist was my youngest brother--five years older than I am. He took extra art classes, and it showed. At least I thought so. So when he was getting rid of his juvenile art, I went behind him picking up the leavings.
I had the pieces framed and they're up in the house. And I like them! See?
This is in the master bathroom, which is sunny yellow (where it's not paneled). The iris was obviously destined for that room.
Here's a couple more:
Above the living room fireplace.
At the bottom of the stairs, on the way to my office.
Yes, I have decorated my "forever" home with childhood artwork--and sadly, it's not even my artwork. Somewhere, home decorators are screaming and pulling their hair out.
Let 'em, I say.
