Casting Out Demons

Because it is Spring I have had a sudden impulsive urge to clean out the snow room and the closets, and get rid of stuff I don't want.

It started off really easy. I walked out onto our front porch took a look around and decided I didn't want any of the junk that had piled up all winter. In one fell swoop I got rid of a whole rat-nest of unwanted stuff. No qualms, easy as pie. I was a man on a mission.

Of course, the junk I was getting rid of was all Gabby's. (How do one year olds already have junk anyway?)

After doing the do on Gabby's junk I decided to take a look at my own. I pulled out an old tie I haven't worn since 7th grade or so. And then I found a couple of winter coats people had shoveled off on me. They made it sound like they were looking after me - "You're a Vermonter now, afterall, you need to stay warm" - but the truth is they were just looking for an easy goodbye. Kind of like finding a nice home for the puppy who keeps eating petunias. One of the coats bordered on the ridiculous. It was a kind of long, buckskin, muff-collared, Buffalo Bill meets Macy Gray, trench. In order to pull off wearing this in public you have to sport either a six-shooter or an afro. I sport neither, so saying goodbye was pretty easy.

But then last night I was digging through my closet and I pulled out this little urban hipster jacket I bought from Gap a few years back. I thought to myself, "Ryon you have not worn this coat in at least four years. You need to give it away." And then, suddenly my belly and my shoulders began to tingle. Another voice appeared. "But it's still a good coat. And when the weather is right you might still wear it. In fact, you could wear it tomorrow, it's going to be so nice."

I think I get it. That coat represents something to me. It represents some part of me that hasn't died yet. Some part of me that still wants to walk aimlessly around 48th and 8th, smoking cigarettes and reciting Dylan lyrics. And that little tingle in my belly was that part of me saying, "No, please, I'm not ready to go yet." If I may be so bold as to use Biblical language, it was a demon in search of a body. A demon that screamed at me like legion. "Please," he begged, "don't send me off into the abyss."

This morning I cast that demon out. I threw him over a yellow metal cliff. I heard him him from outside. He was drowning in a sea of old ladies' sweaters and old men's flannel. They'll soon be buried together in a place called Goodwill.

And I feel clean.