what's up?


1948 chevy fleetmaster

my parents save most everything; they're just of that generation. shelves and shelves of old books and new, read once, and added to the collection if they liked it. there are books on the upper shelves that i can remember seeing back when i was shorter than two shelves high, and that bookcase goes to the ceiling.

books and computer parts filling my younger brother's old bedroom, only because the garage is too full of junk and it's too cold for my dad to putz around in anymore. out there are shelves of food, candy, and discarded toys from us kids and their grandkids.

attic full of i don't know what, since it basically got filled with stuff when we moved in, and not revisited since, essentially a time capsule waiting for one of us to open, soon now, but it can wait a few years longer.

my point of this blather, is that here i am at their house, in my sister's old room. the one with the twin four-poster beds, which i used to sleep in when i visited my grandmother's house during annual trips for thanksgiving weekends. same beds my mother and her sister used to sleep in as kids.

and both beds are covered in the annual xmas disgorgement of the closets, and their abundance of wrapping papers, bags, bows, ribbons, and tags. quick forensic glance through the bins turns up the expected bits of history. gently used bows and bigger scraps of wrapping paper, slightly folded or torn, waiting to be recycled on another gift.

here's a scrap of paper from one of my kid's birthdays, original ninja turtles jumping about over it, the edge crumpled. folded pastel papers, with pink flowers, that once covered a birthday gift for my grandmother--probably a mouse figurine for her curio collection, which sits downstairs in her old room.

there is a bag of bows which have seen better days, but if they still somewhat resemble a bow, it gets added to the bag. my brother and i have in recent years, made a point of throwing away the papers and bows, usually mocking the distress it causes, because they're still perfectly good. if that is true, why buy more every year? why do i see some of those newer, holographical bows, that i know we tossed last year? no doubt she dug them out after we left the house.

wondering why the stuff is out, when hardly anyone will be here, and there are hardly any gifts to be found? at some point before xmas, she'll tell me to stay in the other room, which is code for there're presents in there, and i can't look. as if i was six again.

don't think that will be the case this year; i've told her i don't need anything, don't have anywhere to put anything. but she'll find something. xmas isn't xmas without giving something, no matter how small.

i don't know how many xmases we have left, so if you know of a way to keep these memories close, that would be the ticket.

of course, i'm not going to pass up a beat up, rusty, nay, patina'd chevy. love the dings, and other flaws. i still see the curves. they make me happy.

hey jimbo -- hope you finished your coffee before it got cold.