Simplify Simplify

 

Rick wears a red jersey that says "'Simplify, simplify,' Henry David Thoreau." We bought it at Walden Pond while on our Memory Tour, where we showed each other the places we grew up.

It was a perfect autumn day neither too warm or too cool. Some of the leaves were edged in red. Others were at full color and enough had fallen so we heard crunching under out feet.

We seemed to be guarded by the chipmunks following us as we headed to the spot where Thoreau had built his cabin, although the building is long gone. I'd been there several times, but this was Rick's first wander through this wood. 

Walden Pond has been a National Historic Site since 1962, which stopped its 61 acres being covered in apartment buildings and shopping malls. Thoreau's cabin is reconstructed near the street, a simple one-room with a bed, table desk, three chairs and a fireplace.

Thoreau, as much as he wanted to live a simple life, he did cheat a bit and walked into the village to eat with friends. 

One of my favorite Thoreau stories is when he was dying, his sister asked, "Davie, have you made you peace with God?" He replied, "I didn't know we were fighting."

I take Thoreau's message "simplify, simplify" to heart, but not to the same degree. Keeping possessions to the minimum is one way. Why have three of something if you only need two? Or one? No need to dust what you don't own. 

I have no desire for a house requiring upkeep and any number of people to maintain it. Wasted costs, energy and time.

Trying to keep up with the latest (fill in the brand) also takes energy that can be better expended elsewhere.

Maybe I'm lazy. I can live with that.   

My first attempt at simplifying was a studio on the third (European ) fourth (American) floor in a small French village. At one time it was the grenier, attic, and probably filled with hay.

The building was about 400 years old with beams and a new fireplace. One wardrobe held the few clothes I needed and loved. The kitchen area had a mini frigo (fridge). If I missed a dishwasher, my washing machine made clean clothes easy.

Because I could walk to everything I need I could buy fresh fruits, veggies just as I was ready to cook - no storage problems. There's delight of baking bread smells from a local boulangerie or roasting chicken from the marché stand, again within walking distance. The owner only works half a day twice a week selling his chicken, ham, potatoes gratin. 

He is always smiling, probably because he isn't run ragged with working. What his financial situation is, I have no idea. 

I didn't need a car. I didn't have one from 1993 to 2013 because of excellent public train and bus transportation. I could even take a train to anywhere in France and Europe. Thoreau, to my knowledge, walked everywhere.

I could work on my laptop and watch a cat who spent a lot of time on the roof across the street. I have no idea how he got there, but I also saw him on the street.

Adequate cleaning (and I'm neurotically neat) took minutes daily and thorough cleaning maybe an hour a week.

I considered the internet and laptop a necessity. Even if they existed in Thoreau's lifetime, I doubt he would want them. I suspect he wouldn't have wanted a mobile phone either.

My marriage put an end to living in my Nest, although we keep it as a guest room. We moved into a two-bedroom flat around the corner. I now have a dishwasher. I battle to keep possessions to three things:

• We love whatever it is.
• It's useful.
• There's a memory involved.

Although Thoreau was fed by friends, I wouldn't want to give up cooking with all the fresh and seasonal food in walking distance. 

Thoreau probably couldn't afford to eat at the Wayside Inn, still a restaurant in nearby Sudbury. It was founded in 1702. He was born in 1817. When I lived in the area, I ate at the inn many times.

After buying the red jersey, which was useful and a memory. If not beautiful a lovely color, Rick and I ate at the Wayside Inn, making it a great stop on our Memory Tour.