Routine and New England Puritanism
I am a woman of routine. I eat the same thing for breakfast every day, 7 days a week: banana, peanut butter, and OJ. I have no interest and no desire to drift from this routine. In my third and fourth years of college, I had the same thing for dinner every night: pasta, red sauce, broccoli, and skimmed milk. All of my friends and colleagues from UNH can order for me when we go out to eat: grilled chicken salad, no croutons, balsamic vinegar, and some sort of starch -- usually French fries. When I eat at a restaurant, I order this same meal about 95% of the time. Routine - I really like routines. Most of my readers know of my commitment to running, but few know of my obsession to run 5 days a week, every week, regardless of schedule, fatigue, and plain ol' common sense. Beds without humans in them need to be made; an unmade bed haunts me and disrupts my other activities until I attend to it. I never leave my office for the day, without attending to any loose papers on my desk. They either go into a pile to be filed at the end of the semester, or into the recycling bin. Routines keep me on-track, like a little wind-up soldier marching through my day. I also like to track my routine behavior. In college I kept a matrix of how many hours I studied each day; ever since I started running, I have kept a log of the number of miles I run, or when injured (from lacking common sense), the number of minutes I exercised on a machine; I have also religiously tracked the number of calories I ate each day for years at a time. Have I mentioned how much I like routine? It is very satisfying. Comforting. I like knowing what to expect.
My slippers fulfill this same mission. I wear my slippers (most of the year) any time I am home. They are old, worn, and after years of use - conform perfectly to the contours of my feet. They are like a physical representation of my preference for routine. Many people chuckle at the sight of my slippers and have suggested that perhaps it is my "near-poverty" wages as a college professor that leaves me no choice but to wear these old shoes. No, it's just my preference for routine and comfort that drives me to put these things on my feet and actually wear them in front of people.
Before you reach for your Freud reader and get ready to make a diagnois, there's more to this story. Some of what drives me to keep these old slippers around is good ol' New England Puritanism. As a true New Englander, it's part of my duty to be frugal and to suffer. Most of my suffering takes place around my clothing, but I suppose a few other areas as well. In 1996, I ordered 4 new turtlenecks from Lands' End. As a near life-long Mainer, I can't imagine a winter wardrobe that is not primarily comprised of turtlenecks. From October through early May, any time I am home, I most likely am wearing a turtleneck. So, as you can imagine, I was very excited and at the time it felt extravagant to purchase 4 turtlenecks at once. And, these turtlenecks offered a special feminine cut, too! As soon as they arrived, I knew that I hated them: mostly a mock turtleneck and with no wrist-cuffs. Why I didn't send them back, I don't know, but I kept them and I have been suffering with them ever since. It's my duty. At least two of them now have fraying sleeves and one has a hole in the front. But, I continue to wear them as part of my "at-home" wardrobe. Why do I keep them? They're paid for. I have a trench coat that also has a wool liner that Neil got for me at a thrift store, never worn, tags still on them - for under $20. After 12 years, I have come to dislike that coat, but it's paid for and it's practical. I will wear it and I will suffer, like any good New Englander. That is the way I feel about most of my outer wear, with the exception of my parka. I got that in 1994. At the time it was more than $200 and it is good for 30 degrees below zero. Big and bulky, it works like a charm, and I will wear it until it falls apart. Most of my "at-home" clothing has been around for 10-15 years, is fraying, discolored, has holes, etc. I can't imagine getting rid of them because it they still have life. So, this is the New England Puritan side of me.
Routine and New England Puritanism: to me, they are tied together. They both bind me down a bit, but they also give me order and purpose, and in that, I find comfort. This story is now complete, so go ahead and crack open your Freud reader. You can't possibly come up with something I haven't heard before!
My slippers fulfill this same mission. I wear my slippers (most of the year) any time I am home. They are old, worn, and after years of use - conform perfectly to the contours of my feet. They are like a physical representation of my preference for routine. Many people chuckle at the sight of my slippers and have suggested that perhaps it is my "near-poverty" wages as a college professor that leaves me no choice but to wear these old shoes. No, it's just my preference for routine and comfort that drives me to put these things on my feet and actually wear them in front of people.
Before you reach for your Freud reader and get ready to make a diagnois, there's more to this story. Some of what drives me to keep these old slippers around is good ol' New England Puritanism. As a true New Englander, it's part of my duty to be frugal and to suffer. Most of my suffering takes place around my clothing, but I suppose a few other areas as well. In 1996, I ordered 4 new turtlenecks from Lands' End. As a near life-long Mainer, I can't imagine a winter wardrobe that is not primarily comprised of turtlenecks. From October through early May, any time I am home, I most likely am wearing a turtleneck. So, as you can imagine, I was very excited and at the time it felt extravagant to purchase 4 turtlenecks at once. And, these turtlenecks offered a special feminine cut, too! As soon as they arrived, I knew that I hated them: mostly a mock turtleneck and with no wrist-cuffs. Why I didn't send them back, I don't know, but I kept them and I have been suffering with them ever since. It's my duty. At least two of them now have fraying sleeves and one has a hole in the front. But, I continue to wear them as part of my "at-home" wardrobe. Why do I keep them? They're paid for. I have a trench coat that also has a wool liner that Neil got for me at a thrift store, never worn, tags still on them - for under $20. After 12 years, I have come to dislike that coat, but it's paid for and it's practical. I will wear it and I will suffer, like any good New Englander. That is the way I feel about most of my outer wear, with the exception of my parka. I got that in 1994. At the time it was more than $200 and it is good for 30 degrees below zero. Big and bulky, it works like a charm, and I will wear it until it falls apart. Most of my "at-home" clothing has been around for 10-15 years, is fraying, discolored, has holes, etc. I can't imagine getting rid of them because it they still have life. So, this is the New England Puritan side of me.
Routine and New England Puritanism: to me, they are tied together. They both bind me down a bit, but they also give me order and purpose, and in that, I find comfort. This story is now complete, so go ahead and crack open your Freud reader. You can't possibly come up with something I haven't heard before!
As the 'now grown step-daughter' I would like to add my opinion to this blog entry. First, those slippers are a landmark in my childhood so they may never be thrown away. It would be an act similar to throwing away my favorite childhood toy. They have not always had the holes which act as a ventilation system. At one point they were practical to wear while I took the trash out on Thursday night, ran to get the mail while awaiting my college letters, ran out to check if dad had forgotten something or other in one of the cars, or just to wear Emily's shoes because it was fun. They also served as a home for a mouse for a short period of time. So not only are they useful for you but they are an example of your chairty work; providing homes for the needy animals. The turtlenecks are a completely different story. I have had to explain to many peers that we in fact could afford clothing without holes but you just liked those ones. As I write this I find myself thinking about my two closets and two dressers stuffed to the brim with clothing. If I were to take my life into my own hands and brave going through them all I would find that they are in fact a timeline of my life. I believe that that is also something you enjoy about keeping clothing so long. It is not just because the turtlenecks have some life left in them but because it brings you some pride in telling the story behind each item of clothing. I still wear a pair of socks atleast once a week that you bought for me when I was about 9. I have been wearing them with pride for 13 years and enjoy telling anyone who will listen how long I have owned them. As I wrap up this comment I have come to realize one thing, I am a proud product of my environment and my parents.
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