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Are you having problems coping with change, which seems to be accelerating in our lives?  My grandmother Nonnie's old frying pan may help.

I've been cleaning out my files in my home office.  Trashing old things doesn't come easily for me.  In the third drawer of one of six five-drawer lateral cabinets were old files related to my daughter, Kelly. Pamphlets and magazines about good parenting techniques. Hundreds of clippings about child-related health issues. Articles on child modeling.  Then, I saw the folder with "Kelly's Progress Charts" that I diligently and meticulously posted for her first year of life.  Twenty small-font pages that listed hundreds of milestones, categorized by body part, such as brain, eyes, ears, hands, legs, etc.  Next to the milestone on the right hand side were boxes under the headings "1 month old," "2 months old," etc, with a bold line around the particular box that was the "norm."  For each milestone, there was a red vertical line I had drawn to mark when Kelly hit the milestone (e.g. sitting up in a crib, standing alone, first steps, holding a ball, saying the first word, turning her head to a sound, repeating words, etc.).  Seeing these pages, gave me a tingling sensation in my back and arms.  Perhaps, sentimentality of the 22 years that have vanished so quickly.   I turned the pages and noticed that Kelly's progress in her first year in so many areas was quite remarkable and ahead of "norm."  Was I doing it then out of pride or out of a true concern that if I spotted an area of slow development I could have taken measures to bring to bear the necessary help?   And what about the whole phase of prenatal teaching, with which I got obsessed and visited the nation's foremost proponents, the Susedik family with four genius daughters in Columbus Ohio.  Also, I found a few essays I wrote to Kelly before she was born about how I hoped to guide her.  I realize that this is how I do things.  Detailed and thorough, probably overly so.  Perhaps obsessively and compulsively.  Maybe a hindrance to making progress more quickly?  I gathered an armful of these files and placed them aside, proceeded on my purging duties and filled three large black trash bags of various old material not as personal.  I felt good about throwing out so much stuff, but I realized I lingered on what I kept.  Was still attached. 

Taking a break, emotional as well as physical, I went into the kitchen to see my wife Lorrie and tell her about my reminiscing and that I was having problems throwing out some items.  I tried to show her the files but she was not really interested.  Lorrie doesn't collect things.  She lives very feng shui.  Definitely less distracted down various narrow paths like I am.  She knows who she is and what she wants, and rarely needs a tangible piece of history to remind her. Lorrie says she likes a clean slate, no clutter.  On the other hand, I am surrounded by the "litter" (as Stanley Kunitz may have alluded to in his signature poem "The Layers") of my life.  We seem at times at polar opposites.  Perhaps that is what has kept us together in love for thirty-five years.  Surely, her influence has helped to keep me more on track.  As we talked, standing in our kitchen, about our different styles and about coping with change, I was not able to adequately describe why I keep stuff and go back and revisit times past, and  why I think it helps.

But then it hit me.  I said to Lorrie, "It's like my grandmother Nonnie's old frying pan."  When Lorrie asked how, I explained that Nonnie's home-fried potatoes were so delicious because of her special old frying pan.  Throughout her life as I remember, Nonnie fried the sliced potatoes with garlic, peppers, onions, and oil, and when they were perfectly done, she dished them out onto our plates.  As we ate, Nonnie scraped off the bigger burnt pieces that clung to the pan, and then took a dry towel and wiped the pan.  The pan never went under the water or was washed with soap.  The residue of oil and ingredients, and bits of potatoes I guess, kept accumulating until they caked on the pan and made it very dark brown.  We never thought it could hold germs, and I believe it never did.  My life is like that frying pan.  I put into my life lots of different ingredients and heat them up, stirring lovingly.   The mixture helps to make the total meal taste special.  And when a meal is done, I brush off the excess but I leave the residue, the stuff that contains the essence of who I am.  When I move onto the next phase in my life, in coping with change, I use that trusty frying pan, which, while it's getting older and darker, still has the capability of serving up a delicious meal. 

Lorrie told me the analogy was excellent.  I surmise that she too lives the frying pan way, but she can clean up what is evident.  The residue still lingers out of sight, in her head and her heart.  But, some people like me need the remnants visible on the pan.

I can close my eyes now, and it's early on a Saturday morning back in the 1950s, and I see Nonnie's frying pan hanging on the wall of her large pantry in our old Mt. Vernon house on North Street.  And now I see her, smiling at me, asking if I want some potatoes, knowing I'd love some.   I wonder what happened to that frying pan.  Perhaps my mother has it in her basement?

About the author.

Frank Sisco is a CPA and Personal Financial Specialist, and author of many articles about personal finance and issues of life and money.   His firm, Financial Management Corporation, is located in New Rochelle, NY.  Frank makes his home with his wife and daughter in New Rochelle, NY.  He can be reached at 914.740.4422 or by email at ideasmoney@aol.com.  Visit his website at www.LifeAndMoney.com, which contains this and prior articles.