141. The gas range that was our ‘stove top’ in China and we took with us on camping trips in the US.
142. The Coleman portable grill I won in a golf tournament
143. Two woks – one of which was REALLY great (and heavy! We spent a lot of yuan shipping it to the US from China
144. Bamboo steamers many sizes
145. Buffalo nickels I got as a kid –some where cut out
146. A marble rolling pin
147. My childhood dresser (walnut), matching bookshelf and hutch
148. The letter Terry wrote me when we were dating –insisting he could miss me even if we were apart less than 30 minutes (breaking my rule)
149. “Baby’s first Christmas” ornaments for Alexandria and Samantha
150. Sketches of me and Kelli with cats when we were kids drawn by Jon Lopez
Saturday, November 17, 2007
Memory - Item #60 - Ceramic Christmas Village handmade by my mom
My parents were always socializing, but something changed when Kelli and I became teenagers. We found they were staying at home, watching TV and eating popcorn almost every night. Our friends noticed the same problem with their parents. It was like some sort of neighborhood watch turned against us kids --- a teenager watch.
But my Mom’s not they type to sit still for long. She scheduled a weekly ceramics class (only a block or so from home) and returned home with boxes of ceramic molds in various stages of metamorphosis.
And night-by-night she evened the edges, scraped, molded, defined and colored her creations.
A couple of years before we left the country she gave me her handmade Christmas village. Our last Christmas in the US, Alexandria was three and she helped me set each piece onto snowy cotton on our mantel. I showed her how my mom marked the bottom of all of her pieces with her initials DE and a smiley face. I’ll never forget Alexandria’s amazed face when I told her, “Your Grandma Donna made this village. Every piece!”
That year my parents and my aunt and uncle traveled to our home to spend Christmas. Alexandria zoomed out of the house to greet Grandma and shouting, “Our firesill! Our firesill! We have it! The village! On our firesill!” (She didn’t know the word mantle, but knew it wasn’t a windowsill!)
The home I grew up in had a large raised hearth around the fireplace where my mother displayed the Christmas village. Our mantle was narrow in comparison, but the village was still beautiful with a church in the center, Christmas tress, Santa, a small group of carolers, a toy store… she had even made a tiny black dog who looked like our family’s dog, Vicki.
My sister told me not to sweat the small stuff and that “the things you lose come back to you.” I can be optimistic at times. I looked on e-bay and did an Internet search, but I couldn’t find a Christmas village as beautiful as hers.
But my Mom’s not they type to sit still for long. She scheduled a weekly ceramics class (only a block or so from home) and returned home with boxes of ceramic molds in various stages of metamorphosis.
And night-by-night she evened the edges, scraped, molded, defined and colored her creations.
A couple of years before we left the country she gave me her handmade Christmas village. Our last Christmas in the US, Alexandria was three and she helped me set each piece onto snowy cotton on our mantel. I showed her how my mom marked the bottom of all of her pieces with her initials DE and a smiley face. I’ll never forget Alexandria’s amazed face when I told her, “Your Grandma Donna made this village. Every piece!”
That year my parents and my aunt and uncle traveled to our home to spend Christmas. Alexandria zoomed out of the house to greet Grandma and shouting, “Our firesill! Our firesill! We have it! The village! On our firesill!” (She didn’t know the word mantle, but knew it wasn’t a windowsill!)
The home I grew up in had a large raised hearth around the fireplace where my mother displayed the Christmas village. Our mantle was narrow in comparison, but the village was still beautiful with a church in the center, Christmas tress, Santa, a small group of carolers, a toy store… she had even made a tiny black dog who looked like our family’s dog, Vicki.
My sister told me not to sweat the small stuff and that “the things you lose come back to you.” I can be optimistic at times. I looked on e-bay and did an Internet search, but I couldn’t find a Christmas village as beautiful as hers.
Thursday, November 15, 2007
Empty Pictures
Funny thing is... sometimes when I'm trying to remember an item for the list, I think to myself "I have a picture of it." And for a split second, I think that I do.
Then I remember that my pictures are gone too!
The List Continues 131 - 140
131. The T-shirt my friends signed at the end of 6th grade
132. A heavy oak entertainment center that was made by a carpenter my grandfather knew.
133. A weight bench and weights
134. Many pennies and a few nickels that were flattened by the train at Greenfield Village
135. A tape of Mindy and Dustin singing camp songs
136. Floor lamps
137. Our toaster
138. Two pieces of the great wall of China
139. Mrs. Liang’s recipes
140. Chinese currency, coins and paper money – including old Foreign Exchange Certificates –FEC (FEC’s aren’t issued any more)
132. A heavy oak entertainment center that was made by a carpenter my grandfather knew.
133. A weight bench and weights
134. Many pennies and a few nickels that were flattened by the train at Greenfield Village
135. A tape of Mindy and Dustin singing camp songs
136. Floor lamps
137. Our toaster
138. Two pieces of the great wall of China
139. Mrs. Liang’s recipes
140. Chinese currency, coins and paper money – including old Foreign Exchange Certificates –FEC (FEC’s aren’t issued any more)
Mailbag
I've received wonderful comments to this blog and kind messages at the newsgroups I belong to. Here I will share my mail on the topic of THE LIST.
From Linda C:
This is terrible and heartbreaking, Angela.
I think writing about it in your blog is a good idea. It must be at least some kind of comfort, and it will be a keepsake for your kids.
So sorry,
Linda
[Thank you, Linda!]
From S.E.
Ouch!
[I agree!]
From T.C.
Angela,I am sorry to hear about your loss. It must be particularly hard in that it was unexpected. I think the list is a good way to remember what you had, but more why it was important.
[That's exactly it!!!]
From Cathy;
I am so sorry to hear about this; it makes me sad to think of losing the pictures and keepsakes. I know it is just "stuff", but it is stuff full of memories. Don't give up hope though. You never know what might return to you. A friend of mine dropped her memory stick from her digital camera when she was changing it while we were camping. She was sure it was gone (in the woods, not labeled with a name or address, etc) and she was sad because it held some very meaningful pictures from that trip. Three years later she receives it in the mail with a note from a man who just happened to see it (three years later) and he was a retired police detective; he was able to find their name and address by a trailer license plate that was in the background on one of the pictures. So you never know.
[Great story!!!]
Angela,
Your lists are wonderful - you have a fantastic memory.
Was this a storage unit in the States or abroad? I know it's not the point, but it really bothers me more if it was in the States. (I don't know why. Unfounded expectations, I suppose.)
Keep writing!
-K
[I'm glad you like The List. Our storage unit was in the US near where we used to live]
Oh Angela! I'm so sorry to hear about your big loss!!! Your blog is truly lovely, a printed lemonade artwork made from the rinds of missing lemons. Hope the most important things lost find their way home to you soon. HUGS!! Emily
[Thanks Emily and thanks for linking to this blog!]
Angela,
I'm so sorry for your loss of items you put in storage for safe-keeping. I hope and pray those responsible for taking them will be found and prosecuted. I'm glad your memories have remained. No one can take those. Keep in touch!
J. P.
[Thanks J.P. at this point I'd be happy to forgive and forget if it lead us to some of our things]
And by far the most common question in the mailbox was:
"What happened?"
The answer remains - we don't know and we're trying to find out."
I listed less than half of the e-mails received, but will continue to include more in the future.
From Linda C:
This is terrible and heartbreaking, Angela.
I think writing about it in your blog is a good idea. It must be at least some kind of comfort, and it will be a keepsake for your kids.
So sorry,
Linda
[Thank you, Linda!]
From S.E.
Ouch!
[I agree!]
From T.C.
Angela,I am sorry to hear about your loss. It must be particularly hard in that it was unexpected. I think the list is a good way to remember what you had, but more why it was important.
[That's exactly it!!!]
From Cathy;
I am so sorry to hear about this; it makes me sad to think of losing the pictures and keepsakes. I know it is just "stuff", but it is stuff full of memories. Don't give up hope though. You never know what might return to you. A friend of mine dropped her memory stick from her digital camera when she was changing it while we were camping. She was sure it was gone (in the woods, not labeled with a name or address, etc) and she was sad because it held some very meaningful pictures from that trip. Three years later she receives it in the mail with a note from a man who just happened to see it (three years later) and he was a retired police detective; he was able to find their name and address by a trailer license plate that was in the background on one of the pictures. So you never know.
[Great story!!!]
Angela,
Your lists are wonderful - you have a fantastic memory.
Was this a storage unit in the States or abroad? I know it's not the point, but it really bothers me more if it was in the States. (I don't know why. Unfounded expectations, I suppose.)
Keep writing!
-K
[I'm glad you like The List. Our storage unit was in the US near where we used to live]
Oh Angela! I'm so sorry to hear about your big loss!!! Your blog is truly lovely, a printed lemonade artwork made from the rinds of missing lemons. Hope the most important things lost find their way home to you soon. HUGS!! Emily
[Thanks Emily and thanks for linking to this blog!]
Angela,
I'm so sorry for your loss of items you put in storage for safe-keeping. I hope and pray those responsible for taking them will be found and prosecuted. I'm glad your memories have remained. No one can take those. Keep in touch!
J. P.
[Thanks J.P. at this point I'd be happy to forgive and forget if it lead us to some of our things]
And by far the most common question in the mailbox was:
"What happened?"
The answer remains - we don't know and we're trying to find out."
I listed less than half of the e-mails received, but will continue to include more in the future.
Tuesday, November 13, 2007
The List Continues 121 - 130
121. Alexandria’s Raggedy Ann and Raggedy Andy doll
122. The tequila bottle from the time Terry ate the worm (all the A.Z.s signed it)
123. The giant gaudy gold framed photo of me and my sister with my grandpa – he had it designed to look like an oil painting. (I still have one of the prints – wallet size)
124. A sweater hand knitted for me by Grandma Ada when I was a kid
125. The magazine article Lilly wrote about our family (it was published in a Chinese magazine).
126. These huge plastic dinosaur necklaces – we had a game of hiding them from Alexandria (and she sometimes hid them from us)
127. Laundry baskets
128. The bud vases from Paula and Brad’s wedding
129. A gas lantern
130. Fondue set
122. The tequila bottle from the time Terry ate the worm (all the A.Z.s signed it)
123. The giant gaudy gold framed photo of me and my sister with my grandpa – he had it designed to look like an oil painting. (I still have one of the prints – wallet size)
124. A sweater hand knitted for me by Grandma Ada when I was a kid
125. The magazine article Lilly wrote about our family (it was published in a Chinese magazine).
126. These huge plastic dinosaur necklaces – we had a game of hiding them from Alexandria (and she sometimes hid them from us)
127. Laundry baskets
128. The bud vases from Paula and Brad’s wedding
129. A gas lantern
130. Fondue set
Monday, November 12, 2007
Laughter
I learned that my stuff was lost while en route to see my great-aunt. No, I wasn’t talking on a cell phone while driving a car like 99.9% of America. I was the passenger.
My sister, on the other hand, operates her car like so:
Sit down, start engine, close door, shift into reverse, back up, speed dial, brake, look both ways, talk, drive.
I tease her because I love her. Also because I whipped her butt racing motorcycles (at the arcade) – even though we were sitting on the motorcycles, speeding, and leaning while zooming around on the screen it wasn’t like real driving for her without a cell phone.
I hadn’t seen my great aunt in a long time. We talked like we always do about my grandfather and all the stuff he had packed in his garages and basement. He was locally famous for collecting and held annual garage sales that were HUGE. Around April and May people would stop by his house to ask him, “When are you having your garage sale this year?” They wanted to know before they submitted their vacation requests.
My aunt stayed in one of his houses when Grandpa lived in Florida and she told of all the things she lost just because he moved things around. “There are things down in that basement that I haven’t found in years.”
As she started to mention her losses it reminded me of our things in storage. I initially thought of the photos and ‘the big stuff’ (antiques or furniture). She said, “I had a set of white bone china dishes.” And I remembered my great-grandma’s dishes.
She went on, “There were Christmas ornaments, boxes of them. Some just plain old bulbs, some blown glass, all kinds of decorations.” And I remembered my Christmas ornaments. A picture of my 3 year old self standing in front of a Christmas tree, glued onto a piece of construction paper and my mother’s Christmas village that she shaped and painted by hand.
We talked for half an hour about our memories of things lost. And every item she mentioned I had the same (or similar) loss. It was heartbreaking for me. And she… laughed.
She told me, “Believe me. You will laugh about this one day. You really will. I know you will.”
The shared misery (and source of laughter) was only a small part of our visit. My aunt Dorothy is a strong woman. She raised her daughter and four grandchildren. In her late eighties, she still baby-sits her great-grandchildren. This year she battled cancer (and won) and she also lost a grandson to a car accident.
Loss of loved ones and loss of health puts losing “stuff” in perspective. Overall the best part of the visit was her memories of family history. I never tire of hearing the stories of my Grandfather’s childhood.
My aunt is pictured above with my sis (aka 'speedy' on the right) and me. She’s wise, smart, and she made me laugh on a day when we both shared our sadness.
My sister, on the other hand, operates her car like so:
Sit down, start engine, close door, shift into reverse, back up, speed dial, brake, look both ways, talk, drive.
I tease her because I love her. Also because I whipped her butt racing motorcycles (at the arcade) – even though we were sitting on the motorcycles, speeding, and leaning while zooming around on the screen it wasn’t like real driving for her without a cell phone.
I hadn’t seen my great aunt in a long time. We talked like we always do about my grandfather and all the stuff he had packed in his garages and basement. He was locally famous for collecting and held annual garage sales that were HUGE. Around April and May people would stop by his house to ask him, “When are you having your garage sale this year?” They wanted to know before they submitted their vacation requests.
My aunt stayed in one of his houses when Grandpa lived in Florida and she told of all the things she lost just because he moved things around. “There are things down in that basement that I haven’t found in years.”
As she started to mention her losses it reminded me of our things in storage. I initially thought of the photos and ‘the big stuff’ (antiques or furniture). She said, “I had a set of white bone china dishes.” And I remembered my great-grandma’s dishes.
She went on, “There were Christmas ornaments, boxes of them. Some just plain old bulbs, some blown glass, all kinds of decorations.” And I remembered my Christmas ornaments. A picture of my 3 year old self standing in front of a Christmas tree, glued onto a piece of construction paper and my mother’s Christmas village that she shaped and painted by hand.
We talked for half an hour about our memories of things lost. And every item she mentioned I had the same (or similar) loss. It was heartbreaking for me. And she… laughed.
She told me, “Believe me. You will laugh about this one day. You really will. I know you will.”
The shared misery (and source of laughter) was only a small part of our visit. My aunt Dorothy is a strong woman. She raised her daughter and four grandchildren. In her late eighties, she still baby-sits her great-grandchildren. This year she battled cancer (and won) and she also lost a grandson to a car accident.
Loss of loved ones and loss of health puts losing “stuff” in perspective. Overall the best part of the visit was her memories of family history. I never tire of hearing the stories of my Grandfather’s childhood.
My aunt is pictured above with my sis (aka 'speedy' on the right) and me. She’s wise, smart, and she made me laugh on a day when we both shared our sadness.
I think she’s right. Someday I’ll tell my grandchildren, “One time I lost a bunch of stuff and I was so upset I created a list on a blog for everyone to see.” And they’ll say, “What’s a blog, Granny?” And I’ll say, “Oh, just a low tech form of communication us folks used back in the day.”
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