{"id":1402,"date":"2007-05-15T01:54:00","date_gmt":"2007-05-15T01:54:00","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/theogeo.com\/blog\/?p=1402"},"modified":"2007-05-15T01:54:00","modified_gmt":"2007-05-15T01:54:00","slug":"day-134-%e2%80%94-grannys-closet","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/theogeo.com\/blog\/project-365\/day-134-%e2%80%94-grannys-closet\/","title":{"rendered":"Day 134 \u2014 Granny&#8217;s Closet"},"content":{"rendered":"<p><a href=\"http:\/\/www.flickr.com\/photos\/theogeo\/498889995\/\" title=\"Photo Sharing\"><img loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" src=\"http:\/\/farm1.static.flickr.com\/216\/498889995_363cf68997.jpg\" width=\"333\" height=\"500\" alt=\"granny's closet \u2014 May 14\" \/><\/a><\/p>\n<p>It seems macabre to take a photo of a dead woman&#8217;s closet, but there is an irrepressible streak of sentimentality running through me, and sometimes I do macabre things to satisfy it. <\/p>\n<p>Today my father spent his first day of vacation finishing up cleaning out my <a href=\"http:\/\/theogeo.blogspot.com\/2005\/02\/miss-her-already-my-grandmother-died.html\" target=\"_blank\">dead great-grandmother<\/a>&#8216;s house. She has been gone since February of &#8217;05, so this process has taken more time than you might imagine is ideal. My dad called my mom at around noon and asked if she could bring a box fan to help dry the carpet where a leak had sprung in the utility room. My mom was up to her elbows in potting soil, so I took the fan for her. <\/p>\n<p>When I got there and saw what an impenetrable mess still remained, I offered to help out. My dad suggested that I grab some garbage bags and pilfer my way through the remaining two closets to bag up clothes, shoes, and handbags to give to Goodwill. His advice? &#8220;Watch out for spiders.&#8221; Which is kind of the exact opposite of something you would say to me if you wanted me to get anything <i>at all<\/i> done. <\/p>\n<p>But I dove in with caution, and very carefully \u2014 at first \u2014 removed each item of my great-grandmother&#8217;s wardrobe from its home in her bedroom closet, and stuffed it into a gaping black plastic bag. I&#8217;m not sure I can describe how disrespectful that felt, taking an old woman&#8217;s belongings and cramming them into trash bags to be discarded. Her dresses still smelled like her. How odd, since they&#8217;d been sitting there in an un-air-conditioned house for two years. Her smell was always a mixture of face creams, powder, and musk. It pretty much defined how I thought &#8220;Old&#8221; smelled. And there that smell was, still lingering on clothes that hadn&#8217;t been touched in years. <\/p>\n<p>Odd. <\/p>\n<p>There were a few pieces I came across that I absolutely could not part with, so I stuffed them into my car&#8217;s back seat and brought them back to Memphis with me. I can&#8217;t wear them, obviously, as Granny wore a size or two smaller then I do. Not to mention the fact that I try to avoid polyester when at all possible. And I can&#8217;t exactly pull of the 1962 housecoat look. But I imagine I can find <i>something<\/i> to do with those pieces. I&#8217;d rather cut them up and make something out of them than just ship them off to Goodwill. Maybe that&#8217;s selfish. But not everyone is lucky enough to get to even meet their great-grandmother, much less stow away some of her clothes and <a href=\"http:\/\/theogeo.blogspot.com\/2007\/02\/day-39-grannys-stuff.html\" target=\"_blank\">belongings<\/a>. But I don&#8217;t want to forget my Granny. And if that means keeping little reminders of her around me, then that&#8217;s what I&#8217;ll do. <\/p>\n<p><a href=\"http:\/\/flickr.com\/photos\/theogeo\/sets\/72157594457002111\" target=\"_blank\">Project 365<\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"<p>It seems macabre to take a photo of a dead woman&#8217;s closet, but there is an irrepressible streak of sentimentality running through me, and sometimes I do macabre things to satisfy it. Today my father spent his first day of vacation finishing up cleaning out my dead great-grandmother&#8216;s house. She has been gone since February of &#8217;05, so this process has taken more time than you might imagine is ideal. My dad called my mom&hellip; <\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paid_content":false,"footnotes":"","_links_to":"","_links_to_target":""},"categories":[6,85],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-1402","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-project-365","category-the-family"],"jetpack_featured_media_url":"","jetpack_shortlink":"https:\/\/wp.me\/p1jWWl-mC","jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/theogeo.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1402","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/theogeo.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/theogeo.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/theogeo.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/theogeo.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=1402"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/theogeo.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1402\/revisions"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/theogeo.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=1402"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/theogeo.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=1402"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/theogeo.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=1402"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}