Usually, the first few months of the year are unbearably uneventful. The weather’s rotten, there are no major holidays to look forward to, and despite our best intentions, the “new” year feels suspiciously like the old one. In short, it’s kind of a drag.

But sometimes life doesn’t go as expected. Such was the case with the Brasher family in recent weeks. On a whim we put our house on the market, thinking that in the lagging economy, we might find a buyer by the time little Jack Henry goes to kindergarten (in fall 2011). Surprise! Five days after listing it, our adorable little house in the woods sold, and the buyer was chomping at the bit to move in.

Suddenly, we were facing homelessness in a matter of weeks. We opted to ditch the long commute I am so fond of complaining about for a loft apartment near Vanderbilt, where we hoped for a fresh start and a new adventure. But before we could get there, we faced an entire houseful of crap to sort through, sell off, give away or burn before the middle of February.

Now, if you’re anything like me, it is hard for you to part with your stuff. It’s one thing to talk about downsizing. It’s quite another to actually do it.

The problem is, the things we have in our closets contain little pieces of us. High school yearbooks, favorite sweaters, toys, dishes, photographs and memorabilia all carry the imprint of a moment in our lives. Even lamps, worn-out gym shoes, tattered books and old license plates speak to the places we’ve been, the people we’ve known and the lessons we’ve learned along the way.

It takes fortitude of mind and spirit to come to terms with the fact that the things we have kept for so long are just things, and that many of them probably needed to be excised long ago.

I know what you’re thinking: Joan, just rent a storage unit. Yes, we could have done that. But we wanted to move our little family forward unencumbered and were in agreement that much of what we had accumulated in the 11 years we lived in our home didn’t need to come with us on the next leg of our journey. So we spent three weeks in February packing and selling and throwing away and donating and throwing away some more. And then we had a bonfire.

Of course, we didn’t get rid of everything. The photos and yearbooks and family relics were kept safely preserved. I still have my third grade metal lunch box (a lovely red plaid, with “God Loves You!” stickers on it), my beloved stuffed monkey “Punch,” and my baby’s first shoes. After all, yesterday and today and tomorrow are inextricably reliant upon one another.

It’s healthy to let go of the things from days gone by that do nothing more than weigh us down. But at the same time, we mustn’t forget to celebrate our past, knowing that it has made us who we are today and is powerfully shaping our future, too.

In this issue we do just that: We celebrate Vanderbilt’s past with a look at Edward Emerson Barnard, who ran Vanderbilt’s first observatory (“Looking Back,” page 9); we acknowledge the present in our cover story, which profiles the first Ph.D. graduate of the Fisk-Vanderbilt Bridge Program (“Crossing the Bridge,” page 1); and we look to the future with an examination of Laurie Cutting’s research, which could one day help scientists and educators understand why some children struggle with reading comprehension (“Reading the Signs,” page 11).

The new year is well upon us, and today will soon be history. I’m eager to see what’s to come. For now, I have plenty of unpacking to do and no doubt more purging of items I haven’t been able to let go of.

It’s good to know that even in the doldrums that precede spring, a new leaf can be turned.

Joan Brasher
Editor in Chief, Vanderbilt View
view-editor@vanderbilt.edu

Posted 03/01/10