“No person who can read is ever successful at cleaning out an attic.” Ann Landers
Do you like attics? I do. I love the smell of the
old rafters in the heat of summer as dust motes meander lazily in the air. We
had three attics when I was a kid. One in the house, one in the barn, and one
in a brick outbuilding. We played in the attics, plotted in them, and when we
were brave, we slept in them. The first apartment my husband and I rented was the
attic of an old house. I wrote my first published short stories in the attic of
our first house in Tennessee. Here in our little Illinois house, we have a comfortably
finished attic with our bedroom at one end and my writing room at the other.
When the rain pours down right over my head it sounds like I’m in a carwash.
“A clean basement,
garage and attic are signs of an empty life.” Doug Larson
There’s an attic in the book I’m writing now—an
attic that’s been emptied after Nellie Lightwood’s death. Not completely emptied,
though. There’s a crawlspace in the attic that the woman clearing the house didn’t
know about until she discovered it. In the crawlspace is an old steamer
trunk.
The combination of attic and steamer trunk conjures
all kinds of ideas for adventure. This book is a work-for-hire project, though.
The editors gave me this trunk premise, complete with what’s in it—clothes from
the 1940s, including a wedding dress. I’m not a clotheshorse, and the idea of
nothing but clothes, vintage or not, didn’t immediately bowl me over. To
counteract that reaction, I added the crawlspace and I've put mysterious tidbits in the trunk. That should liven
things up.
As the clothes and the wedding dress are an
important plot point, I’ll need to describe them. I went online (modern
civilization’s attic) and rummaged around. There I found out that I could
probably turn into a 1940s clotheshorse because some of the fashions were a lot
of fun. They also looked familiar. Where had I seen pictures of women dressed
like this before? I combed through the attic of my mind and found the answer—I’d
seen them right here in my attic writing room. I have seven snapshots of my
mother taken in 1941, the year she and Dad married. I have one of their wedding
pictures, too. Now the story is more personal to me.
I also have Great-Aunt Bess’s flour sack apron
from the early 40s. I’ll put it in the trunk with Mom's clothes. Great-Aunt Bess was Dad’s
mother’s sister. I never met either woman, but now I see the apron as an attic,
too. Each stain, each mend, and each hole that wasn’t mended has a story.
There’s no one left who knows those stories but think of the fun I’ll have
making up new ones.
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Have you ever found a treasure in an attic or a
trunk? What would you love to find?
“In the dark attics
of our minds, all times mingle.” Charles de Lint
One of the houses I bought came with an old trunk in very good condition that the previous owners decided was too much bother to move. When I sold that house, I moved the trunk and it now resides in my northern office. Inside are board games, puzzles, and such. On top is a book carousel with writing resources.
ReplyDeleteMy work-in-progress has an attic with trunks holding secrets and clues. Love it!
ReplyDeleteI remember cleaning out a steamer trunk with my mother. It had trinkets she'd brought East when she married Dad, and her wedding veil, which had rotted. She had borrowed her wedding dress but purchased her own veil and saved it for her daughters. Tears.
Attics are great places for memories and for secrets.
ReplyDeleteWhat fabulous photos. Their joy leaps from the frames.
ReplyDeleteI love attics, but I've never been fortunate enough to have an accessible one. If I ever build my own house...
Jim, how lucky to end up with a trunk like that! I'm glad you've never thought it was too much bother to move.
ReplyDeleteOh, Margaret, the rotted wedding veil is so sad (also a nugget for a story).
KM, I agree!
May you have your attic someday, Kait.
Such amazing treasures. What an experience. When my mother passed (a couple of years after my father), cleaning out their attic was such a mix of eye rolling (why on earth did they keep an old hamster cage) and tearful poignancy (so many aged photos, and I had no idea who many of the people were...) Such a great scavenger hunt.
ReplyDeleteIt's the old photos, with people you don't know, that gets to you, isn't it Lori? Throwing them out seems cold but what do you do with them? Sigh.
ReplyDeleteI had the same problem with throwing pictures out, but some were of people I never knew nor was related to. As for attics, the house I raised my kids in had a huge attic with a high ceiling. One night in a thunderstorm, lightning struck one gable not once but twice. Yikes. I used that attic (and the lightning story)in a book called, “Death in a Pale Hue.”
ReplyDeleteA wonderful book, Susan!
ReplyDelete