Safe Secrets at Christmas

One of many blessings I've received since matriculating into parenthood are new perspectives, including the ability to see experiences, perhaps a second time, through my parents eyes.

In my formative years, Christmas was a time of joy, love, celebration and family. To the later point, a time that pitted father against sons in the eternal battle of keeping presents a secret until they were intended to be opened. I reflect upon the Rollerblade Christmas fondly - it was brilliant really. The only way into our attic was through the access door in my closet! It blew our minds at the time; the clever ol' man essentially hid the presents behind enemy lines. I can still remember the feeling of raising my head into the attic for the first time, fixing the flashlight on never-there-before boxes and looking through the packaging at a new pair of "blades" with black, purple and green laces. We must've pulled ourselves into the attic 25 times during the buildup to Christmas.

Another year, I think it was my TV year, the presents were nowhere to found. We checked Mom & Dad's shower, the trunks of their cars and the attic. Nothing! As Christmas approached, fate shined upon us. There was a shimmer coming from whence a black handle had been previously unremarkable. It didn't make any sense to us, why had a new padlock been installed on the shed? In truth, it didn't matter. The game was on. We couldn't find the key or pick the lock so we did the next most rational thing. We took the double doors (which never functioned properly again) off the hinges and walked right in.

And so it continued. Year after year. Some years we'd win by unearthing the mother load. Other years tilted in Dad's favor.

Then THE Christmas happened. No one quite knows where the idea came from but it was the ultimate in Dad-strategy. Perhaps he became weary of doors no longer working or attic insulation collecting on the closet floor. The one thing we know for sure is he changed the game and forever quelled the Christmas hunt. See, by piling the gifts in the middle of the basement and (sorta) covering them with a (sorta transparent) sheet, he altered the entire dynamic. No longer was it an annual high-stakes winner-takes-all game of Hide & Seek.

What Dad knew was that the prize (finding the gifts) was equally proportionate to the amount of effort required. In what could be described as an escalating arms race, he just decided to drive the amount of effort required to find the gifts down to zero. And in so doing, the prize had no value. Sure enough, we were surprised that Christmas.

Now, in 2018, I have to smile because in my home office is a pile of gifts...covered with blanket.

If experience has taught me anything, I am 100% sure the secret is safe.

Memorial Box

I kept a red rose from the spray that was placed over Dad’s casket.  As February approached, I put pencil to paper and designed a memorial box for Dad.  Since then, the project has been in various states of progress.  Finding a woodshop wasn’t easy but I finally got connected to the Eliot School.  From there, it was the basic woodworking class and finally private lessons.  I was extremely happy to find a capable guide in my basic woodworking instructor.  Jeff and I worked on the box for three days.  The first day was about construction planning and milling.  On the second day, we made most of the cuts.  The third day was reserved for hardware and final assembly.  After a lot of effort (and learning), the memorial box is complete!

Actually, I built two boxes.  One memorial box and one…don’t know yet.  The memorial box is built from reclaimed barn lumber (pine) on account of the strength required and imperfections exposed while absorbing the weathers of our world.  I left the exterior of the box untouched to preserve the metaphor.  The lumber came from a place outside of the city.  Selecting the wood is a critically important step.  If the wood is too cracked, bowed, warped, or damaged…then the whole construction will fail.  You can see below just how confident I really was.

The centerpiece of the shadow box is the rose from Dad’s casket spray.  He used to wear a suit and tie to work every day of the week.  All of his ties were styled in the vein of corporate conservatism.  I’m willing to bet that he only ever purchased one more tie after he left that line of work.  That tie is the backdrop for the rose centerpiece.  There’s also a small hidden compartment behind the upholstered shelf which is a perfect store for a few mementos.

I feel fortunate to have designed, constructed, and completed the memorial box (on Dad’s birthday nonetheless!).  Clearly, I could not have completed the box on my own.  I got some excellent help along the way.  I found that this was a project that resonated with a lot of people; men especially.  From the folks at the lumber yard, to the guys at the hardware store, to Jeff the woodworking guru…everyone took the time to verbalize their sympathy AND appreciation for, get this, allowing them to contribute to the memorial project.  It’s warming and astounding to hear that someone else was honored to participate.

Dad's Coin Collection

One of the ways that I stay connected to Dad is through his coin collection.  This was one facet of his dorkier side.  And truthfully, makes me feel a little bit better about the dork that I am!  Ha!

Dad started collecting pennies as a child.  In fact, the majority of his collection is pennies.  I can remember him sifting through his collection of hay pennies and buffalo nickels.  He would always remind us to minimize the contact with the coin by holding it by the edges.  In some cases, we were only allowed to handle the coins with a cloth.

These are some of the coins from Dad's collection.  I'm (slowly) working to scan them to digital pictures.  Once they're all digital, they'll be easier and safer (?) to share.  Thus far, I've scanned the National Coin Album book, the coins that are in individual cases, the 1817 - 1855 pennies, and the paper dollars.

Pretty cool, right?