Catalogues revisited

In a previous post I described the avalanche of catalogues I am receiving at my post office box. When my mother passed away earlier this summer, her mail was forwarded to me as the executor of her estate. I’d been expecting a few bills, an occasional piece of personal correspondence.

My mother, it turns out, received almost every catalogue ever printed. Now they all come to me.

The photo you see is one weeks worth of catalogues. There are over fifty of them in that stack. That averages to almost ten per day. Behind the catalogue stack you might notice a ruler. The pile of catalogues is over eight inches high.

I received a comment in the last catalogue post from Reacher , who writes a thoughtful, thought-provoking, occasionally funny blog. He suggested I view these catalogues as a gift from my mother.

At first I dismissed that idea outright. The catalogues are a huge pain. Instead of once a week, I have to go to the post office every day just to clear out the box. Usually I take them straight to the trash can and dump them. Except on Saturday, when I take Chris and Tommy with me – they view the catalogues as magazines, and think we’re special because we receive so many.

But after giving Reacher’s comment some additional thought, I decided to try to look at things in a different light. I spent some time going through the pile of catalogues to see what she was interested in.

I knew my mother pretty well, so many of the catalogues she received did not surprise me. She was wheelchair bound and in poor health, so she received all kinds of health and wellness product catalogues. I had no idea, however, the volume of products made for and sold to people with her conditions. Not that I didn’t appreciate being ambulatory and healthy to begin with, but when you look at all the stuff sold to paraplegics and people with arthritis and skin lesions it reinforces the feeling of ‘Thank God I don’t have to worry about that.’

I also knew she ordered much of her food from catalogues and home-delivery services. Being stuck in her wheelchair, it was very hard for her to go grocery shopping. Again, I had no idea how many companies offered high-quality food products by mail order. When she was alive we were often the beneficiaries of this particular type of catalogue shopping, as she would sometimes place a second order for us in addition to her own. Four or five times a year we’d receive a box of burgers, steaks and brats for grilling, and we’d sometimes receive frozen dessert treats. There really are a wide variety of mail order food delivery options that are quite good.

My mom had two cats, her surrogate children since my sister and I ‘left the nest’ many years ago. And she treated those cats like kids. To that point, there are many companies that will sell you all manner of pet treats, toys, outfits or exercise units. She spoiled those cats rotten. As I cat owner, I am suddenly feeling as though I have deprived my old friend of the hundreds of toys and treats he so richly deserves.

She got a lot of toy catalogues. She would always be on the lookout to find special gifts for Chris and Tommy. Birthdays, of course, and Christmas. But it was not unusual for a package to arrive at our house, out of the blue, addressed to ‘Master Chris and Master Tommy.’ Inside would be some unique gift for them, for no reason or occasion other than she just saw this particular item and thought the boys would like it.

Normally I would not have included my mother and high fashion in the same sentence. She was never the high society type, and once she became injured and ill she really did not feel much desire to ‘dress up.’ She always wore nice clothes, but didn’t worry or care too much about having the very latest couture. But she sure did get a lot of high fashion catalogues. My first thought made me a bit sad as I visualized my mom sitting in her wheelchair, sadly looking at all the fancy clothes that she could never wear.

But as I thought more about it, and the other catalogues she received, I started to get a different image; one of my mother looking through these books, smiling and thinking of the years before her accident and health decline, when she was young, vibrant and active. When she did wear fancy clothes, go out to exciting events and travel to interesting places. Maybe these catalogues were a way for her to lose herself in a moment, to go back in time and relive memories; or maybe to fondly imagine what might have been, had things been different.

I’ll never really know, of course.

But I prefer to think of her that way. If not exactly happy, then content to spend some time going through her catalogues with a sense of anticipation, wondering what interesting things she might find, what memories the photos might bring, what gifts she could find for her cats.

Or her grandchildren.

And in a way, her final gift to her grandchildren, Chris and Tommy, are these catalogues. Because they really do get a kick out of them. They love going to the post office, opening the box, pulling out the stack of ‘magazines,’ flipping through the pictures, looking at all the neat things. Looking at the clothes, the toys, the food and imaging what it would be like to have them, to live like that.

Just like their Nana once did.

Thanks, Reacher ,for opening my eyes.

Thanks, mom, for finding a way, even in death, of continuing to give to your grandkids. And to me.

For finding a way to stay in our lives.

It’s great to get your catalogues.

And it’s great to be The Family Man.