Listmakers

Grind mault for drinke. See meate do not stinke.

Above, one of my mother’s lists. It could be considered as one of the most detailed household lists of all time, if not for Five Hundred Pointes of Good Husbandrie by Thomas Tusser, (1557), which includes many “pointes” for “huswifery” just as the two noted in the subtitle. I especially like Tusser’s warning about locks and keys, which he writes in rhyme: “One key for two locks ends in grief; two keys for one lock ends in thief.”

IYKYK. You’re either a list maker or you’re not.

Of all the divisions that separate us from understanding our fellow humans, the need—or the absence of need—to make lists is the most baffling.

“How are you going to remember all this?”

“You’re going to remind me.”

“Okay, I’ll add it to my list.”

I am a listmaker. I have sublists. I make lists of lists. I consult them, modify them, obey them, delete them. On the arc of anxiety/depression, nature has me firmly on the anxiety end—but no SSRIs¹ for me! Lists make everything simple, manageable, seemingly under control and, most important now, unforgettable.²

The photograph is one of Mother Pewsitter’s³ lists from the detritus archives. From the references—sidewalks to sweep and more than one kid to get rid of—I’ll date it post-1954, but not by much. That puts her at 41 with toddlers, a junior high-schooler, a Camp Fire Girls group, and perimenopause.

At first, the list amuses. Then, the puzzles surface. Two hours a day of garden work? She loathed gardening. I have no memory of her ever in a garden, except someone else’s, dressed up, holding a tiny plate of cookies. (We did have huge, abundant vegetable gardens, thanks to my stepfather.)

No time devoted to serious cooking? Her natural genius and passion?

Thoughtfully tucked into it all is four hours of downtime! Plus, quite a bit of ambiguous scheduling, such as separate times for “prepare for” and “start.”

Most of all, I can’t help but ponder “getting rid of kids.” As this chore follows a 10-minute task of “straightening up kitchen,” it would appear, at least to this courtroom, that kids were essential in the straightening and were then dismissed. But that can’t be the answer: How old are kids who are home at 1:10? No one old enough to have helped with the dishes. And why does it take 20 minutes to get rid of them? I’ve had kids— you hold open the front door and shout: total solitude in 20 seconds max.

And all that relaxing upstairs after the little kids were in bed (and I was downstairs watching black-and-white documentaries about the Mafia on our first television set)? I shrink from considering this further; there is no point in our lives when we want to think about our parents relaxing upstairs.

Proust ate a madeleine and wrote over a million words.

I’m in for a long ride.

******

1. Serotonin reuptake inhibitors: like Prozac, Zoloft, Paxil, Celexa. Again, everybody knows this, but this is a ‘stack written for women over 70, and we have more important things to remember.

2. Dinah Washington. Oh, yes.

3. I gave my mother this name in the weekly column I wrote for the Ferndale Enterprise for 20 years. The first time I used it, she loved it, and that was that.