THE VIRGINIAN-PILOT
Copyright (c) 1996, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: Sunday, November 3, 1996 TAG: 9610300051
SECTION: REAL LIFE PAGE: K3 EDITION: FINAL
COLUMN: REAL MOMENTS
SOURCE: BY CINDY CLAYTON, STAFF WRITER
LENGTH: 50 lines
RECENTLY I performed an exorcism.
I exorcised a few personal demons from my psyche and my life - memories of my old boyfriends and almost boyfriends.
No priests, incantations or beings from the spirit world were required. All it took was a big, old box, a trash can and my trusty Zippo lighter.
I began my Sherman-like march to the fireplace with a stack of old letters from a post-college boyfriend. He was a nice enough guy, but sooner or later, you just have to get rid of some of the clutter or risk losing your pets under the piles.
Next, I looked around my little condominium to see what else I could sacrifice. I was busy for a while.
I emptied picture frames and refilled them. I gave away a sweater given to me by an old college boyfriend. I boxed and burned with abandon.
One by one, baubles and trinkets were scrutinized and judged for their worthiness.
The once-adored picture an ex-beau hung above my fireplace was one of the casualties. It was, in truth, a lovely picture, but somehow its beauty had faded.
The biggest decision was what to do with the entertainment center the same guy bought for me one birthday. He was the same guy who insisted he still loved me when he moved on to some other girl. The Zippo, I thought, would provide an easy way to dispose of this unpleasant reminder. But remembering that open-air fires are against the law, I settled on a non-torch method. I sold it.
Not only did I experience catharis, I made a profit.
But I couldn't bring myself to get rid of everything. I kept some pictures, cards, letters and, of course, the electronic equipment. (Hey, I'm not that stupid.)
I began this housecleaning after my gal pals informed me that it was time to move on to bigger, better and newer things . . . er, guys. And to perfectly align myself with this upwardly mobile attitude, they informed me, I must shake things up and throw out those nones-sentials.
Sure, holding on to some memories is allowed, they said. Letting go can be a painful part of life. But moving on to something better can have far greater rewards.
And besides, I don't need all those old ticket stubs and stuffed animals to remind me how much I cared. If I want, all I have to do is close my eyes to conjure up one of those warm, fuzzy moments.
And if I really want to be warm I'll just rummage through that box of mementos, throw a few in the fireplace and break out the old Zippo. by CNB