A Persistence of Memory

A few days ago, I made the decision to try to get all hyped up for the upcoming Christmas holiday. There were a few things I was able to take out of a downstairs closet and place on the staircase. 

The larger issue was getting the fake plastic Christmas tree out of one of the loft closets. Now, the actual retrieval of said tree was not particularly difficult. I knew which closet it was in, so opening the door and taking it out was trivial. However... it wasn't that easy. At least, not emotionally. For in that closet was a multitude of physical objects that put me in a bit of a tailspin. First, it was the realization that there were even more paintings by my mother that I had forgotten about. In fact, there were a large number of items that were taken from my mother's apartment after her death in 2015. Large plastic crates of pictures and memories that from just a brief look included such things as a newspaper clipping of my grandmother's obituary, a collection of player's cards from the New Haven Ravens and a Baseball from the Norwich Navigators. A poster from the metal band Edguy (a band which she enjoyed). The childhood paintings of all of her children. A box of items saved for my sister... including a photo album which had pictures of my father (and his dog Tobias). A photo album made for me, including pictures from my graduation, my trip to Barbados, my induction into the national honor society.

So, when the snows came today to blanket the trees and cars and signage, I couldn't help but remember walking around Cold Spring Drive as a child with my entire family. A time of family. A time of snowballs. A time of youth. A visceral memory of a time where the world didn't exist, only family.

But, also in the closet was a book. Or, I suppose, another album of sorts. It was not from my family. It was from Dawn's family. In fact, it was from Dawn's original adopted parents, Bob and Dottie. While Dawn had certainly talked about this time in her life (to some certain extents) and we had driven by her original home when we started dating, this book gave me a perspective into her early life that she would have never been able to explain in words. A life that, in parts, she wouldn't have been able to explain because she would not have remembered having a terrible case of measles when she was an infant.

So, with the snows today, I remembered vividly coming back from work with Dawn after staying at the casino form 3 days straight, doing two shifts a day, as we decided to work during a massive blizzard. We came back to our homestead after 3 feet of snow had fallen over that time at work and we were unable to even park close to our condo. We had to walk across the slippery snow-ladened parking lot to get to our door and then had to get rid of the snow in front of our outside door just to get into the condo proper. Not unlike the days of walking in the snow with Peter, Doris, Dawn (my sister), Sean and Ryan during the mid/late 70s, those days in the casino and finally coming home with Dawn (my wife) will always be a fervent memory.

So, while the tree has been out in the living room for a few days sitting out with no decorations, I made the decision to finish up the tree. I knew where some decorations were... I just had to get them out from underneath a bed.

There was one issue. The frame of the bed had sort of fallen apart. Years ago. So, the simple task of taking out this box of decorations which should have been an easy task of pulling it out from underneath the bed was a much greater effort. For, the simple task was not possible. I had to take a part the bed to get at the decorations. 

Which, I proceeded to do. Something that I could have, perhaps, should have done years ago. Except, there was no reason to. Sure, it was broken. But not that broken. It wasn't a need to do. So, it wasn't done.

Now, it needed to happen. The entire project was a bit of a hassle, mattresses and boxsprings being awkward to deal with in the best of times. 15 minutes in, the box was out and decorations were ready to be utilized. However, the bed frame still needed to be fixed. Which proved to be harder than one would have assumed. The damned center piece which had fallen out of its stanchions did not cooperate into going back to where it belonged. Eventually, my perseverance was rewarded, the boxspring and mattress were placed back onto the frame. The bed was back to a sense of normalcy.

So, to the living room I went. I placed my fake plastic Christmas tree (Radiohead, please leave my brain) on a table close to an electrical outlet. I then proceeded to make the tree look less like Charlie Brown's tree with a minimum of success. Then, I placed the decorations onto the tree. Some simple colored balls, a couple of Red Sox stockings and some Red Sox "candy canes." A number of Mohegan Sun decorations (which are much more solid than I remember). A festive tree was born.

The result of the tree being decorated and even taken out of the closet only brings further questions. Did the contents of the closet actually tell me that the last time I put out the Christmas Tree was in 2014, before my mother passed away? Obviously, I celebrated Christmas with Dawn and my extended family over the subsequent years... but was that loss of the family matriarch so important to lose the tradition? The cards that were stored with the decorations appear to confirm that timeline. I don't think this was a conscious decision that was made. Yet, it appears that this was the case. I am left only to ponder the question of why.

Today, I put up a Christmas tree. And fixed a bed. 

It was a good day.