You probably heard the expression “A place for everything, and everything in its place.” It has been attributed to everyone from Samuel Smiles to Isabella Beeton to Benjamin Franklin. A lot of people throughout history have apparently had strong opinions about where things belong. I discovered that people tend to fall into one of two camps: Those who live by that philosophy and those who consider it a personal attack.
My appreciation for organization goes back to the late 1990s, when I met David Belin in his Des Moines law office. Belin was the senior partner in the Belin Law Firm and had an impressive resume, including serving as an attorney for the Warren Commission and the Rockefeller Commission. He also was a partner in our publishing company back then. But what I remember most was his office.
There were stacks of papers everywhere. Not little stacks. I’m talking knee-high stacks on the floor surrounding his desk. As I stood there trying to figure out how a human being could possibly find anything, Mr. Belin looked at me and said, “I have something for you.” He reached into one of those stacks and pulled out a piece of paper from somewhere in the middle. I was stunned. It was like watching a magician pull a tablecloth out from underneath a fully set dinner table — except this magician was retrieving a legal document, and the tablecloth was 18 inches of paperwork.
Somehow, he knew exactly where everything was. My brain doesn’t work that way. I am more Benjamin Franklin than David Belin. That becomes particularly obvious each time Jolene and I move to another home. Many of you can likely relate. Living out of boxes and between two houses makes finding a pair of socks feel like an archaeological expedition.
Silverware disappears. Screwdrivers go missing. Items I own enjoy an extended vacation. Those situations have me out of sorts. Thank goodness, Jolene deals with them much better than I do. Unfortunately, the organizational tendencies I inherited from my mother keep making regular appearances. I discovered that when my environment is chaotic, my brain doesn’t respond with, “Relax. It will all work out.” It says, “Where is the 10-millimeter socket?”
So, I found a temporary solution when situations like this arrive. I spend a few hours in the garage putting tools away and getting things organized. It gives me something to do, gives my brain a chance to unwind and gives Jolene a break from me. Everybody wins.
Yes, I have learned — and I am continuing to learn — through all of this. Some people meditate; I put tools in drawers and call it therapy. Maybe there really is a place for everything, and everything in its place.
Shane Goodman
Editor and Publisher
Times Vedette digital newsletter
shane@gctimesnews.com
641-332-2707