My Box of Journeys (Kid Stuff)

Recently, Jamie suggested that we look for a new hobby.  Now, she said "we" but I suspect her intent focused on me.  Yes, it's hard to imagine but I suppose that it is marginally conceivable that the sameness of my daily rituals had become a bit trying.  Perhaps the term "underfoot" best fits the situation for indeed, Jamie is just too nice to come right out and say that she needs some space.  Rather, she cloaked her suggestion with the trappings of health benefits appropriate a septuagenarian.  The inherent joy and the resultant lowering of blood pressure that curiosity when confronted with new tasks bestows.  Dexterity gained by the use of the hands on something other than a computer keyboard.  The exercise of the right side of the brain - the creative and spatial reasoning side.  Mercy, those brain cells are weak even on their best day and more than one of those puny muscles atrophied long ago.  Regardless, a creative outlet made sense if brought to bear in my struggle against the aging-processes' war of attrition.  Still, the precise venue remained illusive.

A few days later I was browsing through my "box of journeys".  As is my habit from time to time, I dig an item or two out of the box and allow my mind to wander back to times past.  The baubles never fail to trigger memories of people and places, travels and events that have touched my soul.  The collection started circa 1990 with a small rock picked from the sands on Cannon Beach, Oregon.  Finished smooth by sand and sea, the stone nestled in the palm of my hand and presented a small  hollowed out impression tailored to my thumb pad.  Without thought, the rock found it's way into my pocket and from there to a window sill.  Then onward to desktop to drawer to jar before some years later finding its way into the box.

The alpha collection piece.

Haystack Rock, Cannon Beach, Oregon

Over the years dozens of trifles have been added to the box and the practice of the putting-in has proven therapeutic as a sense of wellbeing is always induced.  So too, the taking-out.

Well, on this day, much to my annoyance, the lid of the box would no longer close tight when the two items were attempted to be placed back into the box along with the rest of the hodgepodge.  Hmmm...confound it...walaa!!!  Yes truly, necessity is the mother of invention.

The right side of my brain blurted right out loud, "Doug!...why don't you make a new box?...Doug?"  

The comment stunned the whole of my mind and it went numb for a time - a state of affairs fairly common, truth be told.  Regardless, Dexter soon gathered himself and continued making his case but thankfully for the sake of my dignity in silent mode now, "A wooden box. Design it yourself, Doug."  

Before it even started the conversation threatened to erupt into fisticuffs with the southpaw synapses rationalizing sarcastically, "Oh!  Yes.  Good idea.  Lets build a box....Are you crazy?  Have you ever built a box?  Actually...that would be no.  Of course not.  Do you have any idea of how much work that would be?  Again, nooo.  Well, let me tell you, it would be a lot of work.  Think about it.  Surely, a much nicer box could be purchased for less money than the cost of materials alone and for a fraction of the effort."

But the neurons on the right would hear none of it, "This will be fun, Doug.  Doug, you can do this.  Besides, you've been prattling on to Jamie for days now about some so-called hobby.  Put up or shut up, Big Boy!"

The gray matter on the left shot back, "No!  You shut up, Dexter Doug."

With that, numbness once again enveloped the entirety but only for a few seconds.  Then, for reasons not completely understood, Lefty relented, "Well, maybe you have a point.  Maybe we could kill two birds with one stone.  But you better see this through.  I'll need your help with the design.  And we'll need to make some jigs for the cuts.  Think you can figure that out?  You better!  Because we're not going to spend a bunch of money on fancy new tools!  Let's get to it."

And so it came to be that a new box of journeys was designed and built.  Sixty one individual sticks cut to size and glued together along mitered butt, rabbet, and some very primitive tongue-and-grove joints.  No nails or screws but a magnet in each of the upper corners with corresponding attracting magnets in the lid.  Large enough to hold the elder box as it has become one of the medley in and of itself.   Plus space for trinkets reminiscent of journeys yet to be.

Lefty was correct - a purchased box could be had with far fewer imperfections, not to mention lower cost.  Yet, the project was both fun and satisfying.  Welled over with attendant benefits - two such rewards being a renewed connection with the sense of touch and some compulsory thinking outside the box.  (For you punsters in the group)   Surprisingly, those advantages proved to outweigh those moments of frustration when Lefty's reality didn't quite sync-up with Dexter's vision.

With a tinge of pride and without further ado, I present my Box of Journeys together with a small random sampling of whatnots gathered along the pathway of the journey grand.  

Inside Dimensions
Elder:  8"L  x  5.5"W  x. 4"H
Big Boy:  16"L  x  12"W  x  7"H
 

A plastic ornament that I made in a 7th grade crafts class.  It is being displayed here as supporting evidence to the comments made earlier regarding Dexter's creative prowess or more accurately, lack thereof.  The bauble was placed in the box because my Mother attached it to her key chain the very day I brought it home from school and she carried it with her until her dying day.  I hold it in remembrance of her.

My Mother Esther
as pictured on Jamie's and my wedding day.

Top row left to right:
Hallands Fläder Aquavit bottle, Stockholm, Sweden
Seashells in bottle, Kauai, Hawaii
Wooden Thimble, Bellagio, Italy
Oyster Pass (subway system),  London, England
Bottom row left to right:
SeaUrchin spine and Tiger Cowrie shell, Tikehau, French Polynesia
Seabean, Molokai, Hawaii
French Pacific Franc, Tahiti, French Polynesia

Rascal's dog tag. 
Ironic, in that he would never run away.  Always by our sides.

Rascal.