Forgotten storage snows Beirut Tango movie
Happy January from chilly California. [Mitra’s bird bath, in Los Angeles, had a thin layer of ice.] Nazy and I continue to adjust. We watched, in awe, the ‘debate’ about the fiscal cliff.
“In awe, Dan?” Nazy asked.
“The Congressional concentration of ignorance and arrogance was, eh, astonishing. It called the entire concept of democracy into question. Somebody actually elected these fools.”
“We voted...”
“Maybe something in the Washington water causes neuron decay and synaptic collapse. Congress created an artificial deadline and a draconian consequence in order to force themselves to do something. And..”
“They did nothing.”
“I’m just glad that a compressed mixture of arrogant ignorance is not fissionable. Because if it was, there would be critical mass in Washington. An uncontrolled chain reaction would result and Washington would descend into complete chaos and disarray.”
“Would anyone notice?” Nazy asked.
Here in Santa Barbara, Nazy and I helped Darius clear out his storage locker. We used a U-Haul for transport and Melika’s garage as a sorting venue. A local thrift shop (unwittingly) accepted a few bushels (and a couple of pecks) of economics books. Darius chose some to take back to Lebanon. Naturally, I questioned his selection criteria. He had an answer:
“I like these books.”
“If you’re going to take books, Dar, pick the light books. Your backpack is already heavy.”
We also found the journal that Darius wrote when he was five (almost six) years old. Note the Arches over McDonald’s on the sample page. [We lived in Vancouver and I was on a job interview in Boston.]
Here, we spent last weekend in San Diego and Los Angeles. We visited Nazy’s cousin and various Aunts and Uncles while Dar attended an economics conference. On the way back, we stopped at Mitra and Stefan’s and saw an awesome Tango movie (Si Sos Brujo).
Back in Santa Barbara, Darius began to ‘plan’ for his return to Lebanon. He declined to check obvious things (like when did his airplane depart) preferring to focus on the obscure (like why does the cat play with defunct lip balm containers).
I noticed that there had been snow in Beirut. At LAX, I also mentioned the weather forecast of a high temperature of 4℃ in Beirut. Nazy took note...
“You need to wear a jacket, Darius!” She exclaimed.
“I didn’t bring a winter jacket,” Darius replied. “I came to California.”
“You can use your sport jacket over a sweater.”
“They’re packed, Mom.”
“Into an incredibly heavy bag,” I interjected.
Nazy and I maneuvered the bag to the ‘bag repack zone’. Once Nazy extracted sweater, sports jacket and a few books, the bag met the 50 pound weight limit. Darius was good to go.
He arrived in Beirut about 24 hours later. The electricity was off. (He had to climb five floors with a backpack, briefcase, duty-free sack and a 50 pound suitcase.) He was momentarily comforted by the fact that he couldn’t see his breath in his apartment: then he realized that without lights, he couldn’t see anything. Beirut was ‘sans-electricity’ for four days. I told Darius that this was the price he paid for living in Lebanon. He asked me how long the electricity was out in NYC after hurricane Sandy.
Nazy and I are still parked at Melika and Tom’s house where we try to avoid being a nuisance. We have, however, found a place of our own and once our shipment arrives, we’ll move in. But, while the new place is nice, it is clear that all of our ‘stuff’ will not fit. Of course. like Darius, we have storage space in Santa Barbara so...
“We can just put the excess into existing storage,” I proposed.
“The existing storage is full.” Nazy countered.
“Then let’s prepare, like Darius, with a sort and clear step.”
“That’s impossible.”
[Aside: Melika informed me that storage facilities were a great investment. “People store junk, then forget what they’ve stored and then keep paying because ‘it might be valuable’. No one ever stops. It’s a cash cow, Dad.” Naturally, I demurred. “People, Melika, are not that stupid.”. Mel had a quick rejoinder: “Nobody ever lost money with a bet on consumer stupidity.”]
I drove to ‘our storage’ and unlocked the door. I gasped.
“This is junk,” I moaned as I spied a red wagon. “I’d forgotten what we put in here.”
“If it’s junk, why did you keep paying?” Nazy asked.
“Let’s throw this stuff out,” I replied. “Finally!” I thought.
“We have to sort,” Nazy countered. “This stuff might be valuable. What do you want to do with Mitra’s wooden box?”
“The one she created in 6th grade woodworking in Hanover?”
“Yes. It has all of her Middle School papers.”
“Firewood, my dear.”
“Her science project and her report cards may be in that box.”
“So?”
“She had a cute and colorful hat that she wore to 8th grade graduation.”
“How long did we pay for this storage?”
“Twelve years.”
“Don’t tell Melika.”
The photo below shows Darius at age five, when he was working on the journal:
