Hanging Up

 

I put my name on the mailbox today. 

There was a piece of mail in said box, addressed to me.

I won't always feel good about seeing mail. In fact, I haven't felt good about that in years. No, really, years. There just always seemed to be something bad.

But, today, it was a nice moment. It felt like a triumph.

Among the things that have been gnawing at me is that I haven't really begun to put anything on the walls or shelves. The Great Desk Fiasco of '22 has sapped my energy and left me in a quagmire (giggity).

However, I dabbled in decorating the kitchen yesterday. I hung a metal sign from Cafe Du Monde in New Orleans above the stove and adjacent counter. Sean liked that. I also hung a sign that says "Abbey Road" on it over the doorway into his room. I figured Sean would like the reference. I also knew he appreciated that it was given to me by his late grandmother.

Nearby, a sign that hung near our front door in Mahopac for too many years for me to remember was now on our kitchen wall. Badly faded and even slightly rotted, we're trying to give it a little more life.

I decorated Sean's room today, hanging some goodies of his, including the poster of old tech that Paul Silverfarb once gave me. Sean liked the poster so much that I thought it should hang in his room. 

That gave me the motivation to try to tackle the living room.

For the many comedians wanting to jab at my decorating skills, well, save your strength. Martha Stewart, I am not. I decided to group some things how I liked. It was important for my antique NY Route 220 sign to hang over the TV. That way, I can enjoy it while sitting in my chair. Nearby, an atomic clock hangs that was my mother's. 

In short, there was a method to my madness. As always.

I decided to group some kitschy road items just below, including things from South of the Border and Key West. A few other "fake" signs hang above the doorway.

To the left of the NY 220 sign hangs a collection of old New York license plates that were related to my family. They were in the workroom for many years but I wanted to embrace them in my apartment. They represent four different eras of NY plates and tags that hung on cars belonging to my parents, my sister and uncle, and, lastly, me.

New York had a simple system at one time that used two letters to denote where you were from. "PC" was Putnam County, for instance. 

"LS" meant Lake Secor in Mahopac. My father had those way back in the 1950s. Eventually, each member of my family had LS plates, with me joining the party in late 1986. I had them until I lost them in early 2015. I tried to reclaim them a few years ago but apparently, the car leasing company had them and the pursuit wasn't worth it.

That's how the DMV explained it to me. A similar explanation was offered after my mother's car was turned in following her death.

We grow attached to such things, much like uniform numbers and other minutiae. Then we're reminded they're just "stuff" and time marches on.

So, normally, I wouldn't post anything about license plates because of privacy and all but, now, it's time to let it go.

A Longview Drive sign -- found in the middle of the road one day -- is also here. A poster of Lou Gehrig, a small vintage postcard of Yankee Stadium, and a framed copy of "Sports" by Huey Lewis and the News also currently adorn the walls.

I started on my bedroom with the most simple of items. I first posted the picture of Sean, Mom, and me taken at Meaghan's wedding in 2020. It's beyond poignant now, given the loss of Mom just two weeks later. It's now indescribable to both Sean and me, and he has a framed copy in his bedroom as well.

A picture of father and me -- taken around Halloween, 1978 -- hangs just above. A small picture of Sean from his senior year of high school is just below. Each one is in view near my dresser, posted there to ponder and acknowledge them as I prepare for each day or settle down when it's over.

A piece of art that is important to me and one other personal photo ends the current accouterments of my room. More will follow, especially after the desk is finished.

I'll load up the bookshelf with more goodies and assess what else I want to hang. I have many other things that mean a lot to make this place a home.

But that's how it looks here now. I'm doing this without a road map. I don't really have much help.

So I'm simply doing the best I can.

And I'm doing OK.