Home, where the heart and files overflow

At home in Corrales Doris and I dragged out files and clothes.  Sorting clothes was easy.  Doris has carted off two-thirds of my wardrobe to the League where women returning to work can shop for almost nothing.  One small suitcase will hold the few winter sweaters I’ve saved for wherever we might be a year from now.  Doris is shipping a mini-trunk to me here with FL winter clothes.

                Sorting paper took most of my time.  My feminist papers will become part of the Sophia Smith Collection at Smith College in 2012.  I’ve already sent three cartons of feminist theater memorabilia.  Doris will send another two soon.  Coming soon to the DeVore address are about eight cartons of my life story, including the LN files.   I’ll read the bitter and the sweet, finish writing the story of my life, and ship about five cartons of LN files to Smith, maybe burn the bitter and save the sweet, and be done with re-membering for a while.  That might take me through my seven-month lease.

                Casa Corrales (316 Morning Sun Trail) will go public on the real estate market next week for $444K in honor of the four directions.   Doris plans to stay in our home until it sells.  Uprooting her from the land of her dreams will be far more difficult than digging up St Joe, buried beside our bushiest pine, the one you see as you turn in our driveway. 

                Please send your thoughts on “home.”  Is it a location or an idea—a memory or a dream?  Is where you pay the mortgage or where you stash your leftovers?  I’ve been pondering while being vaguely itinerant.  My Jeep has been my only constant remnant of home with its land of enchantment license plate and its Obamanos and “Democratic Women are the Life or the Party” bumper stickers. 

                I’ve moved five times in five months I’ve lived in central Florida: into the DeVore home for two weeks plus a five-day detour in Florida Hospital recovering from heart attack, into the ocean front condo at Indian Harbour Beach for a month, back in with the DeVore’s for three weeks, into the WP condo for seven weeks, and now into an apartment of my own with a seven-month lease—shortest time allowed by FL law.  (Next entry will show my new digs with pictures.)

                I must establish FL residency in order to get a third insurance to cover my lung transplant possibly in 2012.  NM has cut itself off from federal funding (same as in AZ but with no media hype, just slipped in under the radar by sly Republican gov.)  FL is still part of the USA, so I can apply for additional Medicare supplement from here.  To do that, I must prove I have a FL address, drivers’ license, etc. 

I’ll remain a FL resident while living in NC before and after transplant.  From there Doris and I will land in a new home somewhere we haven’t yet discovered.