Alison Hodgson

Expert on the etiquette of perilous times.

How To Teach Children To Mourn – Part Three

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Jack eager to get to the Christmas tree farm, 2012

Part One is HERE.
Part Two is HERE.

If you asked, “Alison, what did you learn from the fire?” I would definitely tell you, “Hire a Public Adjuster.”  This is a person or company distinct from an insurance or claims adjuster—the party who will negotiate on behalf of your insurance company. The Public Adjuster negotiates on yours.

This post isn’t about insurance, so I’m going to leave it at that. But repeat this three times, to seal it in your memory.

Public Adjuster
Public Adjuster
Public Adjuster

Should your house ever burn down (God forbid!) and you forget, contact me.

“Alison, I don’t need insurance tips—(you so do!)—I’m wondering what you learned, you know, spiritually.”

Fortunately so few people go around asking others what they have learned, because I would be hard pressed to tell you what the fire taught me. Looking back, it just seemed like a long march. I did learn a ton about how to support and care for people in crisis. And yes, I learned spiritual things  too—mostly about hope—but I still find it hard to neatly explain it.

But if you asked me, “What about that time your living room remodel went off the rails and you had to wait until right before Christmas to get your tree and everything fell apart; what did you learn? I would be able to tell you immediately:

“Parents need to teach their children to mourn.”

That’s it in a nutshell, but of course I want to tell you the whole story.

By the time the living room was finished and we were finally ready to get a tree it was five days before Christmas. The thing is we were going away that year. My mom’s side of the family was spending Christmas at a resort in Indiana and we were leaving Wednesday, the 23rd. It seemed ridiculous to get a tree only to have it less than three days.

Paul and I conferred. He was all for renegotiating with the kids. At first I was all for it too. I just wanted to get everything cleaned up and put away. The thought of pulling out all the Christmas things to turn right around and take them all down again was exhausting but something gave me pause.

Christopher, Lydia and Eden were 14, 12 and not quite 7 years old and all of them were eagerly awaiting this. How long would that last?  Sure we could make them come on this family outing as long as they were under our roof, but that’s no fun. It felt important to do this, knowing it could be our last. I was thinking of the kids growing up and individuating.

I have no idea this will be our last Christmas decorating the tree with ornaments the children had been given since their births, with ornaments I had collected since I was a child. This is our last Christmas in this house and before the fire. But I don’t know that, I just have this compulsion we should pony up and get the tree regardless of how impractical it seems. Paul sees my point and agrees.

Would the farm even be open still? I called and listened to the recording of their hours. I looked on their website too. Both said they were open on Sundays and there was no mention of when they closed for the season.  We decided to go right after church and invited my mom to come along.

The day was cold, but beautiful. We’d had a lot of snow. Everyone was happy and eager. This would be Jack’s third visit to the farm and he couldn’t wait. I don’t know how he knew where we were going but he seemed to and parked himself between the front seats just like in the picture above.

We turned off the exit and hit the first fork in the road. There were signs for several farms and stands, but the sign for our farm was missing. This  brought my first sense of foreboding but I kept quiet. Turning onto the road I also noticed the lack the traffic, but it was the chain across the first entrance which confirmed my fears.

The kids all reacted immediately, gasping and crying out. Paul pulled into the second entrance and stopped. We looked at each other.

“What do you want to do?” He asked.

“There’s another farm, Jane and Doug go to just up the road,” I said, “Kids, let’s try another place,” I called to the back of the van, “Okay?”

“Those mean, mean people!” Eden shouted. I pictured the kindly older couple who ran the farm with the help of their children and grandchildren.

“Eden!” I said, “You know they’re nice people. It wasn’t clear they were closed, but it is less than a week before Christmas. It’s understandable.”

She crossed her little arms and stared at me, sullen and intractable.

“Does this mean we aren’t going to get a tree?” Christopher asked from the very back.

“We’re going to get one,” I said, “We just need to figure out another place. Miss Jane goes to a farm right near here. Let’s try that.”

Paul turned around and pulled out onto the road, back the way we came.

Jack threw back his head and howled.

To Be Continued….

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Well, the good news is that, barring the hanging of the closet doors, extensive caulking and a little touch up painting, the living room is finished and a lovely delight.  I am thankful and truly surprised since I wasn’t sure how everything was going to look.  I bought a couch off Craigslist about six months ago, grabbed a wool rug half off at Lowes right before Thanksgiving, then snagged a pair of chairs off Craigslist a week after that.

 The couch spent the last month in the front entry, the chairs on opposite sides of the dining room and the rug was rolled up in the attic.  Friday night David finished up the trim and yesterday afternoon Paul and I carried everything into the living room and arranged it.

 The couch is a medium, brownish green, the chairs are a light camel and the rug is a light green, almost beige with lighter tones woven through.   I chose a cream shade for the walls with absolutely no yellow or red in it and the trim is white. The floors are bamboo with it’s natural color.

 In the weeks while we waited for the electrician, as we stared at the water-damaged tiles of the ceiling that was exposed after we removed the faux beams and first layer of drywall, I began to question the paint color.  I had been wondering about the rug since before I bought it; not sure if it would work with the floor and the couch, but decided to buy it because of the quality and the price. I knew it would get us down the road and anything was an improvement on the ancient berber it replaced.

 I thought the chairs would look good with the couch and hoped that there would be enough of a contrast with the rug, but it didn’t look hopeful.  I planned to get some pillows or throws for the chairs to bring some color into the room. 

 Late in the game of redoing this room, I realized I didn’t have, what those in the business of personal training call, “a vision to lead me through the pain of transformation,” that is, the hope that it would all be worth it.  I knew it would be better, and clean and new – which is NOTHING to sneeze at, I know – but I thought all the furnishings would look bland and boring or cold and unwelcoming.

 But when we brought everything in yesterday, it all came together and rather than being bland it’s peaceful, which is exactly the sort of space our family needs. 

 My mom, who had stopped by to accompany us to the Christmas tree farm said several times, “It feels very calm.”  That word has never been used to describe anything remotely associated with me and certainly not my décor, but she was right.  I wanted to stay and keep putting things back, but we had an appointment with the Christmas tree farm – or so we thought – and the finishing touches would have to wait.

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The kids do not have school for the third day in a row. Eden has been home sick since Monday and the living room has been piled in the dining room for three weeks.

We replaced our ancient berber carpet with bamboo and knocked out the faux beams on the ceiling, hoping to simply mud and resurface it. Alas, the drywall was warped so we had to tear it all down. While we were at it we decided to replace the dingy inset lights. There was a miscommunication with the electrician so he wasn’t able to come until Monday and then a little confusion about whether we needed to take the next layer of ceiling panels as well as an attic full of insulation (we didn’t) so he wasn’t able to actually do the work until yesterday. Tim, the drywaller, is here taping the panels. He should be done some time next week.

We generally get our Christmas tree the day after Thanksgiving. The kids are missing it and wondering when we’re going to get one to which I reply, “I don’t know.” My sister-in-law offered the use of a miniature one but we have no place to put it. In the dining room we have its normal occupants: our table and five chairs, a low and a long bookcase filled with books. We removed the small secretary where we store our bills to make room for five upholstered chairs, a couch, a dresser, the TV, dvd player, two decorative boxes that store videos and dvds, a side table, two lamps, a compressor and a bucket of tools, 8 baskets that are normally in the living room closet and are my standing pile/file. We couldn’t fit the second couch and so it’s jammed against the wall in the front entry.

My bedroom (if you discount the closet which is stuffed with bags full of presents) and the kitchen are the only rooms I have a handle on, though the kitchen now acts as temporary storage for the living room light fixtures, the calendars – including the large wooden advent one- and any miscellaneous tools and paint brushes.

My task this weekend is to divest our home of one of the couches and three of the chairs and the garage of a large entertainment center that doesn’t work for the playroom/attic/residence of doom…when I’m not in class with Eden whose new favorite thing is playing school, having long talks with Lydia or studying with Christopher whose least favorite thing is doing school, but we insist.

Party on.

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Christmas Recap Pre-plague

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This isn’t really a good picture of Birdie, but I have forgotten how to load more than five pictures per post.  Something went wonkie several months ago and then I got busy with something else and then – LOOK THERE’S A CHICKEN!  That’s the punchline to a joke a friend of mine, who does NOT have ADD, likes to tell, poking fun at those who do.  All that to say, I posted this to be democratic to include Lydia and Wizzie in my five allotted photographs.  Ahem.  

This was taken at Mom’s when we celebrated Christmas with Torey’s family before they vaunted off to Canada to spread the plague afurther.  Torey was home sick.  Willa was (allegedly) recovered and was sent with Ren and David to the party.  She is just one little bundle of germs which she (not so happily) spread to all of us.  But we are ignorant of this.  None of us know that the clock on general health and the workings of our most basic processes is ticking.  Oh the humanity!

At least we went out smiling. 

Or staring crazily and scratching our noses.  Whatever.  This picture looked much funnier as a thumbnail.  Too lazy to edit.  Perhaps it’s foreshadow.  Maybe Dave has caught sight of the intestinal degradation that is about to ensue.

I always get a picture of Paul and David sitting together laughing.  Paul has put in fifteen years in the family and David has done six.  It’s good they can still smile.  The funny thing is that both of these lads really wanted to join the clan.  They are both intelligent men and clearly thrill seekers too.

Or maybe it was an experiment in eugenics.  Did both of them know that Torey’s and my genes seem to be entirely recessive?  Perhaps they thought it would be easier than cloning.  They have probably reconsidered, but who can argue that the experiment wasn’t a success?  Certainly not the little revelers pictured above.