Every Ounce Counts
The summer after 7th grade, I left St. Louis and flew to Denver to go to a wilderness camp. I was so excited for a mini Outward Bound experience and being in nature for two weeks. Before leaving, I followed the camp’s Pack List to have exactly what I needed and nothing I didn’t. I remember borrowing a very thin, wool, cardigan sweater from my 80 year old grandmother, which I ended up using a lot as it was the perfect combination of warmth without too much weight or bulk in my backpack.
Once we were in Denver, all the campers and instructors met at a high school and laid out all our stuff on the quad to talk with a counselor about what to actually bring or not. I remember someone talking about cutting a toothbrush in half to save on the weight. The phrase “every ounce counts” was tossed around. It became a mantra as we packed. Do I need this? Can I use something else instead? Every ounce counts. We would be carrying all our stuff for two weeks and we were kids who were not used to carrying weight. When you’re literally carrying all your stuff, you make stricter decisions. When it’s just somewhere in your house, it doesn’t feel so dire.
As I declutter our home, I think of that phrase often. When I want to say “ah, just keep it”, I remind myself that Every Ounce Counts. I also know that if I keep it, it will only stay a problem in my life to deal with later; I’ll just kick this can down the road. Today, I faced a framed, hand-drawn sketch of my high school. It was a place that had a lot of meaning for me as it was actually the only school I attended as I started there in Kindergarten. More so, my family has a lot of history with this school. My dad went there. His mom was supposed to go there but couldn’t and seemed to always regret it. She actually paid for me and my sister to go there, it was that important to her. In St. Louis circles, it’s a prestigious school. That was the last prestigious place I’ve been attached to. And yet, this picture means very little to me. It was a gift to our senior class when we graduated. I am surprised I still have it, actually. It’s something I keep, saying, it doesn’t take up much space, it’s art, it’s easy to move. And yet, I don’t like it. I now know I’m not the type to wear a class ring or have a picture of my school on the wall. Plus, every ounce counts. I added it to the donation pile today.
