Day 20 My Secret Socks
How organizing became my favourite disorder
January 20, 2025
I had a secret sock drawer
Perfect bundles wrapped and ready for forgotten feet
A knitted rainbow that whispered order from their station
Shut away from the screaming chaos that comes with life
Perfect bundles wrapped and ready for forgotten feet
An army of straightjacketed soldiers lying at attention
Shut away from the screaming chaos that comes with life
For forty years, until I freed the troops and invited them to dance
An army of straightjacketed soldiers lying at attention
A knitted rainbow that whispered order from their station
For forty years, until I freed the troops and invited them to dance
I had a secret sock drawer
If you knew me, you'd know I had a secret sock drawer. Not so secret since I've talked about it for the past few years. Each sock laid in rainbow order: white to begin, yellow to orange, through tangerine to stoplight red into dead burgundy, maroon landing for a moment on periwinkle. Unlike my life, the blues were few. Turquoise into greens and fading to greys. Then, black. Most of these socks I’ve not worn in 40 years, but I keep them in my drawer to complete the spectrum. I've moved countless times and transported them untouched in their dedicated dresser drawer.
Now that I think of it, that collection fits me like a glove. It all makes sense when I look at my upbringing. My father's mantra was "Order, order, order." My mother's lack of the aforementioned kept a dynamic of control alive at all times. My mother managed her chaos through elaborate mnemonic devices for remembering things - shopping lists, customers' names, information when her mind was on overload, which I realize now was often.
I learned the colors of the rainbow as VIBGYOR. In elementary school, I knew Miss Fawcett was wrong to be teaching about ROY G. BIV. I couldn't believe how she could have it so dead wrong. It was plain stupid. There was no such thing as a last name BIV, and Vibgyor poured off the tongue like watercolor virusing on an absorbent page. When I visualize a manual typewriter, "Qwerty You-ee Op" still sings in my head, but never when I think of a computer keyboard. These things are definitely hardwired in a deep childhood place within me.
I got through high school tests and university exams with mnemonics that whispered the answers in my ear when the expectation to succeed became too great.
Lists became my coping mechanism, my "thing." Because I couldn't draw, I never doodled. In every scribbler, I'd list the 50 states in alphabetical order whenever I had free time and a margin. A vertical list became a ladder to grounding myself. I'd list streets in Winnipeg, the names of the old vets I worked with at Deer Lodge Hospital, and later in life, when times were wild and particularly stressful, I'd list (in code) the men I had slept with. Some people smoked, drank, gambled. I made lists.
Perhaps this is why I discovered pantoums as the perfect vertical structure to climb down and embrace with open arms and flowing pen. A much healthier habit that continues to feed my curiosity and lead my pen to discovery.
A few months ago, I liberated the rainbow brigade from their drawer. One day, out of the blue, I walked to the bedroom and dumped them into the bag for the thrift store. What had I been waiting for? They dog-piled on top of each other like kids at recess, decades of order dissolving into chaos. That day, as I dropped them off, I said goodbye with a sigh and a smile. An honourable discharge.
INVITATION
What lists live in your margins? What seemingly simple habits have carried you through? I invite you to create your own mnemonic device today - perhaps for the scattered contents of your desk drawer, or the names of people you've loved. Let it pour onto the page like watercolor, virus-ing into something unexpectedly beautiful. Or maybe start with a list - any list - and watch it become a ladder to your own discovery
See you tomorrow for Day 21, here in the Pantoumery.
Speaking of socks, last Sunday night at “Showing Up”, I learned to darn a sock using a light bulb. Literally, a BRILLIANT IDEA. If you’re interested in my weekly accountability zoom, a paid subscription includes this weekly get-together.
What’s a pantoum, you say? I’m writing one each day, for a year. Learn how HERE
Love a list👍❤️