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I spent this last
weekend protecting my possessions from invaders from the east.
My daughter was
home from college for the weekend. As she was preparing to leave, I discovered among
the things she was planning to take back to school:
- A 5-foot shelf that had been holding some of my books in the library.
- The extension cord I keep permanently on the vacuum cleaner so I can vacuum the entire house without changing outlets.
- My wonderful white cuddly terry cloth bathrobe.
- The brand new can of spray starch.
- A large carpet scrap that had been hanging in the garage against the day we needed it to patch the carpet in the house.
- A large red plastic storage container into which I had tossed packages of photographs I planned to organize someday before I'm 80.
- The lotion in the large bottle I keep by my bed. (The bottle was still there - the lotion had been poured into her bottle.)
As I discovered
these things, her invariable response was, “Well, you never use it
anyway."
Apparently, if it
was not on my body or in my hand at the particular moment she decided it would
look good in her dorm room or on her body, it was fair game.
As we began
negotiating over what was to be put back and what she could take, I realized
this child is missing her calling. She should be in our State Department,
heading up our negotiating teams. We would not only have the Soviet Union
totally disarmed within days, we might end up owning it - or at least a good portion
of it would be in her dorm room.
As I was telling
some friends about this raid on my household, I discovered mine is an
experience common to most parents of college-age children who live away from home.
One woman told
how it happened to her. Seems the father of a friend of her son had pulled a
horse trailer equipped with hanging rods into their driveway. Her son proceeded
to empty the entire contents of his closet into the trailer. (Two chairs also
disappeared from his room.)
When his mother
asked why he was taking everything to school instead of splitting it into warm
weather clothes and cold weather clothes, he patiently explained that taking it
all was easier than deciding.
I told some other
friends of this phenomenon, whereupon one told of how she knew her oldest son
had really left home for good. He borrowed a friend's van and began to load it
with things from her house.
His two younger
brothers watched the operation in silence (she wasn't at home). To this day,
the two younger brothers refer to it as The Rape of Fort Worth.
Another woman I
talked with on the phone later that same day told me her daughter left for
college on the East Coast three weeks ago. So far, she is missing two chairs,
one small bookcase, three saucepans, four blouses and a pair of slacks.
"At least
that's all I've discovered so far," she said. "I haven’t been up in
the attic yet.”
She said she
should have been prepared. When her son left the year before, he not only took
almost everything in his room plus four lawn chairs, he also tried to sneak the
family dog into his car.
She was really
pleased when her son came home so often for weekends (He’s going to school in
Texas). Then she discovered his frequent visits home were because he missed the
dog.
"He said, 'Well,
gee, Mom, I can always talk to you on the phone,” she said. "It keeps things
in perspective for you. I'm not sure I like the perspective, but what are you
going to do?
“One good thing
is that he'll never get homesick. He has most of home in his room.
"When they
come home for Thanksgiving this year, I may have to conduct body searches
before I let them out of the house to go back to school," she said.
Since I know dorm
rooms at my daughter's school are about the size they were when I was in
college, I can’t imagine where she is putting all this stuff. All I can think
of is the scene in Walt Disney's The
Sword in the Stone when Merlin packs the entire contents of his house into
one small carpet bag. He does this by magic, of course, being Merlin. As some
spritely music plays, everything in the house - pots and pans, beds, chairs,
cabinets, chests - marches into the bag, each item getting littler and littler
until it all fits. This is the only possible explanation - magic.
Still, I’m amazed
she was able to get it all in one small car. It was a feat of packing that
would be envied by professionals. There was not one wasted square inch in that car.
She even moved the vase with a dozen red roses that her boyfriend sent her for
her birthday.
Now she
has-announced she's coming home next weekend, too. I would be flattered at all
these visits home except that I know why she's coming.
She can do the
laundry for free here. It costs money at school.
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