A few weeks ago, we joined a group of relatives to help clean out the condo of an elderly aunt who passed away. The last few times I saw her, she would tell me that she has so much stuff to go through, and she doesn’t want to leave it to everyone else to deal with when she passes. Death came and took her when she still had laundry in her hamper, dishes in the dishwasher, a bra hung up to dry above the washing machine still waited to be put away, a suitcase from a recent trip waiting to be unpacked, and food in the refrigerator. The full closets and drawers, the file cabinets of papers and all the stuff one collects over a lifetime was left for all of us to go through. As I went through her drawers, feeling somewhat invasive, I realized that I have very similar drawers: one was a junk drawer in the kitchen with all manner of items like paper clips, old address books, unsharpened pencils and random rubber bands and bread ties . Another drawer contained cancelled checks, old bank statements and paid bills. Another drawer was jam-packed with pictures in no particular order. She and I both have dresser drawers full of too many socks, jewelry boxes crowded with unpaired earrings and out-of-style necklaces. I, too, don’t want to leave all of my stuff to others to have to sort through and dispose of or keep and add to their collections of too many things.
The other night when I helped the Phans flip the breaker switch to turn back on the electricity, I got to see exactly what they have in their bedrooms. I was surprised to find almost nothing. There were beds with no sheets and very few clothes hanging in the closets. In fact, I only saw one small dresser, even though six of them live there. They have so little compared to everyone else I know.
In December, I offered up my Phan family as recipients for the “adopt-a-family” gift drive my work was arranging for the holidays. I created a flyer and added the names and ages of everyone. Unsurprisingly, my coworkers were extremely generous. There were at least a half a dozen gifts for each of the nine family members, including the oldest son, his wife and the grandmother. Many of us brought in wrapping paper and ribbons and we spent an hour wrapping all the gifts. They filled up my whole trunk and half of the backseat of my car. Two of my coworkers went with me to deliver the gifts at lunchtime. It would have taken many trips to carry everything upstairs, but the kids came down and we loaded them up.
May, the mother, set out bottled water and canned Christmas cookies on the seat of a plastic lawn chair. One of my coworkers took a few pictures. Kay Lee asked me to help her unwrap a gift, and after looking at it, wanted me to seal it up for her again. She then carried her stash to the Christmas tree and placed them under the branches. Tomtom and Noah started tearing into their piles of presents.
We left shortly after. Something was awkward about it. Even though I made it clear that the gifts were from my office, not just from me, and had my coworkers wear their name badges, I still felt uneasy. Ser, the father, did not look happy. He disappeared in the short time we were there, maybe going to a neighbor’s house. I picked up on his uneasiness and that made me feel uncomfortable, like I had temporarily revoked my status as a friend, and shown up as a do-gooder. What is it like to be given so many things all wrapped up from strangers? What is it like to have virtually nothing to offer in return? Would it feel powerless? Is it emasculating?
It is a tricky balance to stay friend/teacher and not turn into a charity worker. It would be easy for me to bring an extra something that they could use every time I go there. When I go shopping, it would be nothing for me to pick up an extra packet of paper towels or toss some extra produce into my basket for them. I make a conscious effort to not bring something on many occasions of visiting them. It is a tricky balance that I feel important to maintain to be welcomed in their home. I’m not Santa Claus; I am only a person who has some free time that I want to spend with a family that I have come to care for deeply.
Since organizing the gift drive at work, many coworkers have come to me to offer stuff they think the family could use. The people I work with, my own family and my friends all have so many things. How many times have we gone through closets and drawers, garages and storage lockers and purged? Yet we all still have more than we need. At least I do. A couple of months ago, Scott and I went through one of our garages and filled his whole Ford F150 with things we didn’t want anymore. You wouldn’t be able to tell. The garage is still lined floor to ceiling with shelves of stuff.
This weekend I am picking up a couch, TV and loveseat from a coworker for the Phans. Another coworker has a side business of cleaning supplies and has given me the catalog to choose anything I like for the family. I appreciate their generosity, but feel a little awkward accepting so many things. I feel… well, I think I feel how Ser and May felt when we came with so many gifts. Thankful, but uneasy.
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