Tuesday, January 23, 2018

My Refrigerator


It’s weird, definitely weird.  I’ll step out and even call it a modern era phenomenon.  I know I’m not the only one.  Most people have one and do it, too.  If not, they know many people who do.  I’m talking about the refrigerator.  Specifically, the door of the refrigerator. 

My refrigerator door is a collage of….well…I don’t know how to pinpoint its focus.  It’s family, personal, silly things, reminders, etc.  I guess I’ll describe it as a personal memoir/note/calendar/family album.

The front has family pictures, postcards, medical appointments, grandchildren’s art, holy cards, an obit, the Patriot’s and Bruin’s schedules, a bottle opener, school photos, etc.  One side has a calendar, medical appointment cards, emergency phone numbers and extra magnets.  The other side kisses a wall; likewise the back.  Too bad, that’s wasted space.

Many years ago, the thought occurred to me that all that paraphernalia on the refrigerator was a mess.  So everything was taken off, and the door and side were washed clean.

The kids were young then and freaked out.  “Ma, it’s creepy.”  “It’s scary.”  The refrigerator looks dead.”  “I can’t take my eyes off its nakedness.”  “I can’t get used to it.” 

No one needed to worry.  In no time at all, it was soon filled with new children’s artwork, greeting cards, favorite sayings, newspaper clippings, and favorite photos of all we knew and loved.

What can I say?  Do you think all that stuff defines me?  Am I an eclectic individual or a nut case?

The top of the refrigerator does have a lineup of cracker boxes.  Goldfish, Ritz, saltines, and potato chips are all within easy reach.  Hiding behind them are some of the Grandchildren verboten: scissors, scotch tape, candy, and gum.


If the outside of my refrigerator defines me, just wait until I describe the contents inside.  But I think I’ll leave that for another day.

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