Two days after Thanksgiving Al and I took an entire pickup truck full of stuff to a donation center.  What a feeling of accomplishment.  Included in that was the Christmas tree stand, because the day after Thanksgiving I bought an artificial Christmas tree.  It was easy to do – on sale online.  Al and I went over to Penneys after the donation dump to look at what I had bought – not bad.  I put it up, but didn’t decorate it, before I went to Illinois for five days.  Within 24 hours of returning I was back on a plane to SoCal to see Al and attend his company Christmas party.  That’s another blog – a first person account of me in 4 inch heels – I know you can’t wait.

I got home today and got right into decorating the tree.   I picked Jeff up at the airport and we bought some new silver garland for our new friend.  I bought a balsam candle and it’s working well to make it smell nice around here.  So far so good.

I suppose I should have expected that with everything getting donated that at some point something would accidentally get sent away that wasn’t intended to.  In this case it was some small generic but vintage ornaments I grew up with.  They were small – golf ball size – and Mom always insisted they go at the top of the tree and the big ones at the bottom for proper proportion.  I know there were a few in there that were special and small, too.  I don’t remember all of them but I do remember some.  I suck back the urge to shed a tear.

The worst is that it appears our Christmas bear is gone.  When Al and I were first married, we went to the Solano County Fair and won a little carnival bear – the kind with the arms that are like a clip, a head that turns around, and only about two inches tall.  For twenty nine years he has held on for dear life to the tip top of the tree, our little angel bear.

I think he’s gone.  In the spirit of stoicism and letting go that I have been practicing during this move adventure, I tell myself that some little kid will find him and love him.  Someone will find the little Christmas ornaments (I’m still half hoping it will be me, but I doubt it…).

In the same spirit, here are some of the things that did not get thrown away:

The big Santa ornament previously mentioned;  the “Our First Christmas” ornament given to us by Agnes, Al’s Mom; a beautiful handpainted ornament of the Seattle space needle we bought as a souvenir of our camping trip to Seattle area – a trip we forced ourselves to take despite attending Ag’s funeral just weeks before, as she would want us to.  It was a grand and very special family trip.

I still have a little stuffed unicorn given to me on my birthday in 1982 by a volunteer at SF General that I made into an ornament. Bobby is long gone now, but he is fondly remembered by Al and me.  Bobby was a towering, rotund,  imposing black man who rarely smiled, wore sunglasses.  I’d be lying if I didn’t say he scared the shit out of me when I first met him – he looked like he could pick me up and put me right through the ceiling if he wanted to.  Actually he was the kind of guy who would give me a little stuffed unicorn for my birthday.  Turns out he was once a security guard for Jerry Garcia of the Grateful Dead.  That was until he took a baseball bat to the head and was tortured by an uncontrollable seizure disorder.  He once got us back stage passes to a Dead show, which was probably the most underwhelming experience of my life considering I expected it to be much more exciting.   I had visions of partying with Jerry.  Duh.  Anyway, Bobby’s seizures got more and more out of control and eventually he spent time in the intensive care unit heavily sedated and ended up moving to Florida to be cared for by family.  I still have the unicorn.  Before I realized I had lost the other ornaments I held the unicorn for a moment and remembered Bobby, as I always do each Christmas.

I really doubt that extra box of ornaments is going to show up.  The more I think about it, I am certain other, bigger, also cherished ornaments are gone.  There were many I had decided to get rid of that had no meaning, somehow everything got mixed up together and now they belong to someone else.

So…what is the meaning anyway?  Another lesson in letting go.  Another reminder that you can’t take it with you – literally this time.  Another wake up call that, despite my occasional feelings that I am taking steps towards the end of my lifetime, there is still plenty to do and be and feel and remember.  Al and I will collect some new ornaments as we make our new home by the beach.

But the bear… I can’t help but personify him, hope he’s okay, hope some little kid has him on a nightstand and talks to him before drifting off to sleep.  At the top of the tree tonight sits a beanie baby sized moose, another favorite family animal.  Moose will keep watch waiting for the birth of the Christ child, just as the little California bear did so faithfully for so many years.

Update:  I really have been sad about this tonight.  I am beginning to realize what else got lost but it was the bear that really hurt.  When I came into the room the moose just wasn’t cuttin’ it – for one thing, it didn’t have a smile.  So.  I ended up putting Mr. Jack in the Box (with his reindeer hat) on the tree top.  For you East Coasters, you don’t have Jack in the Box but it’s a hamburger chain.  For many years they would give out promotional car antenna balls of Mr. JITB – with baseball hats of local teams, I have one from the turn of the century with a New Year’s Eve hat.  Cars don’t have antennas much anymore so I guess they quit doing it.  Anyhoo, I put him on top and I must say he is making me feel much better with his happy smile.  I’m such a fruitcake…speaking of which, the fruitcake my mother always sends arrived today – made by those awesome monks in Gethsemane, Kentucky.  And now, the new Christmas tree topper in the Sondag home: Mr. Jack in the Box (Reindeer Dude) – awaits Baby Jesus…