Jacob and Esau
I read most of a home organization book a little while ago and it taught me some valuable lessons, like it's appropriate to throw away all the half-empty bottles of shampoo/conditioner/lotion that you've been storing in your bathroom for years, along with all the free samples that you aren't using. Or that the master bedroom should be a haven and not full of things that aren't related to sleeping and dressing. (I didn't get rid of the TV, though. Murray and I don't have a habit of watching TV in our bedroom, but it's really convenient to have in there for times when someone is sick, or nights when I know that I'm going to fall asleep during the movie. I guess in my mind, the destructiveness of having a television in the bedroom comes when it's on all the time and you just channel surf. Since we don't do that at all, I think that it's okay to keep the TV.)
One thing that the book said was that if you have sports or hobby equipment for sports or hobbies that you no longer participate in, you need to get rid of it. Well, the other day, I came across my beloved climbing shoes and it pains me to think of getting rid of them. But then I remembered something else I heard, which is if you're getting rid of items with sentimental value, take a picture of them so that you can keep the sentimental value and then give them away.
So here goes. Here are two pictures of Jacob and Esau, and here's the story behind their sentimental value.
Back in college, El Senor, Fabuloso and I were all involved with climbing. It started with El Senor, who became the weekend manager at a local climbing gym. Fabuloso and I, and all of our friends at that time, bought memberships to the gym and climbing became our social outlet. We'd get together most weekend nights and climb at the gym. Afterwards, we'd go to El Senor's apartment, cook a dinner, and watch a movie. I wasn't the greatest climber in the world, but I did make progress and if I remember correctly, worked my way up to a 5-10c. Mostly I was a social climber and just enjoyed the sociality of hanging out with my friends.
Eventually, El Senor inherited the presidency of BYU's rock climbing club, Y Rocks. He named me the director of communications (which meant that I wrote the emails for the activities) and Fabuloso conveniently became our faculty advisor (he was working full-time for BYU at the time and therefore qualified as faculty). We were, of course, accused of nepotism. But we didn't care. One major regret I have is not keeping a copy of all the emails that we put together for the activities. Some of them were quite creative, if I do say so myself. We had bi-weekly activities (and I explained that that didn't mean twice a week, but rather every two weeks) and I liked to throw in a way for members to get into the climbing gym for free for each activity. At one activity, I said that anyone who wrote a poem about climbing would be able to get in for free. And only five people wrote poems! It always amazed me what people wouldn't do to get into these activities for free. Admission was $8. If you just sat down and cranked out a haiku or a lymerick about climbing, I would have let you in for free. And yet only five people took advantage of that? I announced another get-in-for-free offer in 2002. I proclaimed it the year of the tutu, and any climber wearing a tutu would be allowed in for free at any activity. Only three people took advantage of that deal---a guy and two girls who all went to the fabric store, bought some tutu fabric, and wore their tutus over their clothes. Basically, all of my offers to get in for free involved making a fool of yourself for my entertainment. When we held a competition one day, prizes were such things as tube socks and gift certificates for Chuck-a-Rama. Fabuloso said that it would be more appropriate to rename the club Y-Jerks.
For a while I had no climbing shoes and had to use a spare pair that El Senor had acquired. But on my birthday one year, I was predictably at the climbing gym with my brothers and our friends. Someone suggested I try a particular route and everyone came to watch and cheer me on. When I reached the top of the wall and finished the route, I called to be let down, but I wasn't let down. El Senor told me to really finish the route by climbing even higher. There was technically room for me to go higher since the walls don't go all the way up to the ceiling, so I climbed a little higher so that my head was above the wall. They encouraged me to climb higher still so I did. Then El Senor said there was something on the other side of the wall that he needed me to get. I looked on the other side of the wall and there was a shoe box sitting there. It contained a gift from my parents---a pair of 5-10 Moccasins.
I loved the shoes and noticed that the suede of one was much shaggier than the other, so I named them Jacob and Esau. Now as I look at these pictures, I can remember fondly the days when I used to be a climber.