I am probably like most messy people in that I tend to be fairly oblivious to the messes I make in which I’m living or working – or if not totally oblivious, I am pretty much unbothered by those messes, except in that “boy, my wife would kill me if she saw how awful this place looks” sort of way. But today, things got so bad in my Carthage office that I actually found myself staring at the mountains of stuff around me with a mix of bewilderment and nausea. And that was before the end of the day when I grabbed my backpack a little too energetically and managed to topple a pile of twenty-plus opera DVDs on my piano, sending them in every direction. (Made me really glad that I don’t work in a fine china store.) It was Friday, the end of a long week, so I just kept walking out the door. . . a door which fortunately doesn’t have a window through which people might peek in, see the mess, and lose their lunch in one fell swoop.
I’ve been messy for as long as I can remember. In fact, there is a true story from the Berg family from 1965- when I was five- and my Uncle Ron was babysitting Steve and me in Colton, SD while dad went to Sioux Falls to retrieve my mom and new sister from the hospital. Right after supper, the phone rang- and it was dad saying that they were about to leave the hospital and would be home pretty soon. “Okay guys,” my energetic Uncle said as though he were talking to his teammates from his baseball glory days, getting them fired up about some extra practice. . . “your mom and dad are on their way home. Let’s get this place picked up for them, okay ? Whadd’ya say?” “I’m going to bed,” was my stern reply, uttered without a trace of a smile nor leaving open any possibility of negotiation on the topic. . .and that’s exactly where I went, leaving my poor Uncle to clean up what I am sure was an enormous mess of toys and who knows what else. What a lovely young boy I was.
I’ve been making and ignoring messes ever since – and I can only give thanks that two of the most important people in my life over the years- my wife Kathy, and my best friend Marshall – have managed to pretty much tolerate this part of my personality – although I’m sure there were times at Luther when Marshall was mightily tempted to leave our room and move in with the rowdy frat boys at the end of the hall . . . and I can tell when my messes have gotten out of hand around here because Kathy will have the websites of several divorce lawyers bookmarked on her laptop. Still, they put up with it and me- now that’s love – just as some of my Carthage voice students who I know are supremely organized and neat people manage to put up with a voice teacher whose office looks like its been ransacked by two dozen drunken hockey players. That’s real devotion and probably more than I deserve.
A couple of years ago I interviewed an author named Carolyn Paul who wrote a book about being organized vs. messy called – I think – “How can I change the world if I can’t find my keys?” The main point of the book is that a lot of messy people resist getting organization because they very likely associate neatness with being uptight, stressed, preoccupied with the mundane etc. They (we) would rather live life in more easy-going fashion. Sounds good to me. But there’s a catch. What the author says is that there often comes a point when one gets so messy that even the most easygoing person on the planet is going to get terribly stressed because you won’t be able to see the floor or find stuff that you really need. When you get that messy, you got problems because the mess is going to prevent you from doing what you want to do and living like you want to live. If you’re too messy, you end up spending all kinds of time trying to find your keys or your cell phone or that important document that’s necessary for so-and-so to graduate. . . time shuffling through mountains of papers on your desk which is time you would much rather spend listening to great music or reading wonderful books or thinking deep thoughts or enjoying one’s family and friends.
Thanks to this book, I am now a whole lot more enthusiastic about the possibility of being a little neater. . . but darned if I know how to alter the messy habits which I have polished to perfection over the last four decades. Your suggestions on the topic are welcome – but be forewarned. . . when it comes to this particular subject matter, I am an atrocious student! Just ask Uncle Ron, my voice students, Marshall, and the incredibly patient and loving woman who still permits me to share a home with her – unbelievable though that may be. And whatever insanity inspires her to do so, may it never lose its grip! GB
Pictured above – a card which hangs on my office door. I purchased the card down in Chicago. “A Messy Room is the sign of a Genius.” I wish the writer of those words wasn’t an eleven-year-old kid, so I could more firmly believe that they’re true.