The packing has begun in earnest. I’ve been at it for about 20 minutes and I’m already overwhelmed. I have this idea that all I want to take with me to LA is me, my dogs, my clothes and of course, the cameras and computer. But when I start going through the boxes that sat hidden in the spare bedroom the past year, nostalgia and “oh gee I remember that” start building and the next thing you know I am sitting here staring at a bunch of junk that I can’t throw away but can’t possibly find reason to keep.

For instance. the hoop skirt that my mother wore under her wedding dress in 1959. Its cute, all crinoline and ruffles, but if I wear this, I will look like Madonna, and besides, the top 1/2 of it is sheer. If I actually had a sense of fashion style I could probably find a way to build an outfit around it. Maybe my friend Jan, the absolute queen of combining thrift and couture into “way cool”, can help. Maybe I should give it to her, because she’s got the artistic and free-spirit attitude I sort of only wish I had, and I know she could carry it off.  Maybe if I keep it, that hippy-dippy classy look will somehow soak itself into my pores simply by association.

And then there’s the little plastic horse models I bought with my birthday money when I was about 5 or 6, two stuffed animals I’ve carried around just as long, and a collection of wooden spoons and eggs given to me by a Ukrainian oceanographer years ago. It’s unlikely I’ll ever get to the Ukraine and those times at the ODU Oceanography Department were among the best in my life. But still. And here’s the slinky my Mama bought me, an apology for something I can’t even remember, styled after an episode of Friends. Mr. Square. My sister made him after the original one got lost. Rafiki from The Lion King (my favorite line, “Get over it, it’s in da past!”) And. Oh My GOSH. It’s Orange. How I love Orange.

Ah, and I’m so glad for Evan Williams about now. Because at this moment I’m tackling the 4 boxes of Christmas decorations and all of the childhood Christmas albums I rescued from the garbage toss of my grandmother, Big Mama’s, attic back in 2000, and I need to get loose, fast. Seriously, I don’t think there’s anything here from after 1968 or ’69, bless Big Mama and Charlie for keeping them all. I’ve got Christmas with Glen Campbell, Andy Williams, and Pat Boone, heck, I’ve even got a special collector’s edition of Christmas with Colonel Sanders and something called Holiday Sing Along With Mitch.

And then there is my family’s all-time favorite Christmas album: First Christmas Record for Children. On this album of Christmas classics sung by artists such as Doris Day, Rosemary Clooney and Gene Autry, is the absolutely heartwarming story, told by Red Skelton, of The Littlest Christmas Tree. How many times have my sisters, my Mama and Hosa and I, lamented, though not nearly in as cute a voice as Red Skelton can do, “what is my purpose for being here?”

Do I really need to keep the “Good Times” garland my friend Julie and I hung in our apartment back in 1992? There’s the the 6 original Elf on the Shelf dolls that Big Mama would strategically place around her house every year. What about the antique mechanical Santa, who back before his batteries corroded used to ring his bell while his head turned from side to side and his eyes glowed bright red like some possessed Claus from the Netherworld. Don’t ask me; I don’t get it either.

So what I’ve managed to do after 2 hours of sitting in the middle of my living room floor is throw away about 4 or 5 broken Dollar Tree ornaments and a box of checks from LA trip 2005 and finish off a martini glass half-full of egg nog. I’ve packed the rest of the Christmas decorations, records and assorted paraphernalia into a plastic bin. This Christmas, since I’ll still be here, I’ll put out a few things, and in the meantime I’m going to have to see which sister is willing to hold onto some of this stuff for me till I can have it shipped. I’ve managed to clear myself out of practically every material good I have with these moves, and this should be easy, but I’m down to what I’ve held onto through each transition (minus the big ol’ box that ended up at the Salvation Army by mistake. . . ) and I’m just not sure I can casually toss into a dumpster the yearbooks, letters, pictures, knickknacks, stuffed animals, and other basically useless junk I’ve accumulated. I’m all for change and moving and creating a new life, but this junk is my tie to the me I’m always gonna really be.

So here’s an early Christmas, or holiday, gift, if that suits better, for you. It’s a timeless, universal message, and it’s Red Skelton, and it’s cute. I’m giving you the YouTube production of the original classic, The Littlest Christmas Tree. That’s one less thing I have to pack, and it’s going to a good home.

What? Lolli claimed Rafiki, and you know darn well you aren’t gettin’ Orange.

Slinky, Mr. Square and my beloved Orange