DISPLAYING MY PRIVATE PLACES

Perhaps a regional custom, my mother always used to give newcomers a tour of our home as if we lived in Buckingham Palace. She seemed proud, I was embarrassed. I pointed out that others didn't automatically do it. -- Unless of course their house was new, or had recently undergone renovations.

"When you have nice things you want to show them off," she replied.

I told her that seemed rather braggy to me.

"They WANT to see what you have!" she insisted. "People are curious."

Personally, I'd rather they remain curious and use their imaginations. I've never liked others coming into my private space.

Back when my father worked at his high-paying job, my parents held a number of cocktail parties. I've always felt that people who love to entertain do it mostly to flaunt what they have. I know that was true in my former neighborhood.

My mother, and later my step-mother, BOTH maintained our home like a public museum. Everything always had to look perfect, living comfortably was next to impossible! My step-mom wouldn't even allow a garbage can to be visible! Guests often remarked that our house looked like a model home where no one lived.

I complained to my stepmother that I was tired of living in a showcase, I'd rather have comfort!

"You sound so silly it isn't even worth a reply," was her exact response!

Growing up, my drawers and closet had to be tidy and organized at all times. I was a typical kid, I loved to collect rocks and shells, etc.. Every time I tried to keep any in my drawers, my mother threw them out! "No one can see them in there!" I hollered.

She scolded, that one of our guests, even the wife of Dad's boss, might peek inside out of curiosity and wouldn't I be embarrassed!

Exasperated, I repeated this to our next door neighbor, a burly middle-aged man named George.

"You see ANY of those people doing THAT, kick them out of your house!" he exclaimed. "THAT IS YOUR PRIVATE SPACE! They have no right to violate that!"

I was stunned! This was revelation! I told my mother exactly what George said.

She gnashed her teeth. (I remember it clearly!) Shortly after, she complained to Dad that she felt uneasy around George. She didn't trust him. My father ordered George to stay away from us because he made Mom uncomfortable. I felt responsible! Up until then, George had been a close friend to our family.

Now that I'm old and alone, I'm free to enjoy my home exactly the way I want it! Nobody gets a tour. A few have actually hinted, I ignored them. My space is for my pleasure, not theirs!

When my close friend Margaret visited, she confessed to not being a great housekeeper, either. "I'd rather spend what little time I have left on the planet enjoying myself," she admitted. "I never allow anyone upstairs unless they're fixing something." 
 
I laughed and replied, "You too!" It's no wonder we were such great friends!