Ho Ho Ho

Christmas this year was fun. Miles was very into the whole idea and for the weeks building up to it would shout when he saw Christmas lights on neighborhood houses, "Christmas Lights!! It's Christmas Time!!" As well as knew that although it was Christmas time, it wasn't Christmas day and therefore not time to open presents.

For the almost two weeks leading up to the day we have had terrible weather. Being an Alaskan girl I look at the snow and think "so what?" and then remember that Oregon cities do not have the equipment or personnel to deal with snow, and that Oregon drivers think they know how to drive in it but don't and my reaction is that I am better off staying home warm and safe. Miles had a week at home because his daycare was closed and by Saturday even with the falling snow we decided to go to Portland and visit Nina, Loki and Carter. They had a lot of fun in the snow.

Miles is a bit like me, he likes the snow but didn't want to be out in it all day. He had his fill and then came in for some snuggles. We had planned to hit Kelly's for a holiday party the next day but the weather was getting bad enough that we headed home Sunday morning instead. We made it fine, but it was slow going with chains.

Around 430 on Sunday we were all cozy and warm when we heard this very loud, very strange noise come from outside. Then it happened again. Going outside we see some neighbors out to investigate as well. The noise is coming from the transformer up the street. There are now sparks etc flying out occasionally. Mitch and I unplugged our computers and waited. We didn't have to wait very long. Sparks flew and the tree was on fire. At this time I was trying to call PGE, which is what the news had said to do, and of course no one answered. Then I tried the police non-emergency number where because of a long menu of choices I was unable to get a person before I was told of the tree being on fire. So I dialed 911, it was busy. Redial, busy again. Redial, got through to a recorded message telling me to wait. By now the transformer has exploded in huge brightly colored flasshes of light and noise and the power has gone out. As I am waiting a police car drives up the street. I hang up. I get a call back within ten minutes from 911 and I explain the situation, she thanks me says an officer is on site and hangs up. We are in the dark.

After handing Miles a flashlight we pack up our things and head to my mom's. On Monday we come home to check it out, still no power. The cat is totally freaked out, we pack her up to take to my mother in laws. We also throw away stuff from the fridge, resuce what we can. Get more clothes and head out. Although not snowing at the moment the roads were quite slushy and slippery. When we get to Linda's I am getting the cat out of the backseat and Miles is climbing through the front to get out, I shut the door, on his fingers....I am a terrible mom and should be beaten. I am always so caeful to watch for where his hands are and this one time I don't and he gets hurt. We put snow and then ice on them. He can move them, theres no broken skin, he calms down. Turned into a bruise and thats about it, I still feel awful though. We settle in the cat, head to the drugstore for tylenol for Miles and hit McDonalds for a happy meal.

Now we are just heading back to my moms on the ither side of town. Its starting to snow again and we have ditched our thought to go to the mall. Then a chain flies off our car, I pull into a parking lot which happens to have an auto supply store, they are out of our size. So we head on with one chain. Stop at another store, they are also out of our size. Finally get back to my moms and settle in with drinks all around.

Tuesday. I have to go to work. Mitch drives me downtown where a coworker picks me up in his truck. The drive out was slow and slippery but we made it. Mitch had to go to work too but was delayed. Miles' daycare was open for awhile as well. There was no-one at the museum. We left around 430 and only almost went off the road once. But the power was now back on at my house so we could all go home. The roads were decent enough that I could run out and finish some Christmas shopping.

Wednesday. Christmas Eve. We did have some shopping to still do so made some quick runs in the morning. The roads were mostly clear, just wet.

Christmas Day was great. Miles woke up around 715 and was very excited by his stocking ans his presents. We then went to Linda's for brunch and more presents. Then to my moms for dinner and of course, more presents. Dinner was wonderful. My Grammie was there and a good time was had by all. The parking lot was a mess and we almost didn't make it out with the ice and the slanted driveway, but we did.

Saw Mitch's dad and family day after. They all seem well. Mitch got to play tech support for the new computer.

Some pics of Miles Christmas morning at our house. He made out like a bandit.

Dead Jim

When I was a little girl my Uncle Jim sent his wife and children to the store and then shot himself in their kitchen. A terrible thing to do, a terrible way to die, he was apparently a terrible man. My aunt is much better off without him in her life and so are my cousins. But, it doesn’t excuse the selfishness of his actions and the negative energy that he sent into their lives that permeates to this day. I would assume that it has been since that day that in the family he has been known as Dead Jim. I am not quite sure how it started and whether it was a way to delineate him from another Alive Jim or if it was just how my family found a way to cope with a horrible thing.

Many of his clothes, including a horrendously ugly 1970’s polyester suit went to my father. For some reason my dad loved this suit, and for many years he would wear “Dead Jim’s Suit” for certain types of special occasions. He was finally convinced to get rid of it I believe some time in the 90’s…..

The reason I think of this today is because of Curtis. My friend Curtis who died in 2006 was a good guy, married to one of my best friends. We all liked him. He took photos at my wedding, made the day memorable and special. He was diagnosed with cancer and about 6 months later he passed away leaving behind his wife and one year old son. We miss him and think about him often.

Christina, his widow, recently cleaned out all of Curtis’s clothes and gave many items to my husband. Luckily no double knit polyester suits that should really only be burned. This morning Mitch asked me what I thought of the sweater he had put on. We are going to my company holiday party tonight so he was trying to look nice. It was a very nice sweater and one I had not seen before so I asked where he had gotten it. He said it was one of Curtis’s. While I was driving to work I was thinking about Mitch and the clothes that used to belong to Curtis and although I know Christina gave them to him, I wonder how she actually feels when she sees them on him. Does it make her think of Curtis? Does she get sad? Is she happy someone can use them? Then I thought of Dead Jims Suit, and I had to wonder what my Aunt Lane thought every time she would see her brother wearing the suit of a man who not only hit her but then took his own life, shattering hers. Although the sweater technically no longer belongs to Curtis, and the suit no longer belongs to Dead Jim, they still do in a way. What does that mean to the living?

Many cultures through history and around the world will bury their dead with all of their earthly belongings so that they will have them in the afterlife. I must wonder if that is the full true reason, or if it also may simply have hurt too much to keep using the belongings of the dead in their everyday lives, when that person was no longer there. I hate to think what I would do if someone that close to me died, but I don’t know that I would be able to keep that much around. I have some items of my Grandfathers but I don’t use them and tend to keep them hidden away. A friend I grew up with died about 5 years ago and I have some little miniatures that he gave me one Christmas that I also have hidden away in a drawer. Every time I see them I get sad that he is gone, but smile at the memory of that Christmas, the last time I saw him.

The dead leave trails in our lives. Their spirits linger, we have strong memories brought about through dreams, smells and images. But they also leave their junk behind, and what is the best thing to do with it. Should we throw it out on the lawn and put up a sign “free dead guys stuff”? Or should we keep it close and hold on to their essence and their smell that they have left behind. Should it be different whether we loved them or hated them, or hated to love them as the case may be?