MY FIRST CHRISMAS TREE

      

           I was 23 years old when I finally moved out of my mom's apartment. If I ever tell you my life story you'll know that this was hard to do, leaving my mom alone, but it was time to leave the nest so I flew.
       My friend Iris and I had rented a downstairs apartment, in a Brownstone in Park Slope,  Brooklyn.  This was before everyone renovated to make condos out of these wonderful one family buildings. 
      What our family had done was block off the staircase that led to the upstairs and made a closet to separate the house from the tenants.  (I just noticed how possessive I am. Our family, not the family who owned the Brownstone).
      
          We moved in during the summer and it was our first Christmas. I love Christmas. I still do.  Ever since I was a little girl I used to love going around to stores to ogle  all the beautiful decorations. Our dysfunctional nuclear family would take a night to drive all around Brooklyn to go  what we called "Christmas tree spotting". We didn't have a tree of our own. First, I suppose it was partly because we never celebrated anything except for Thanksgiving, and secondly we were Jewish.
     
      My Dad did once bring home a little round tree from work. Now that I think about it, it was probably a gift from one of his girlfriends, but that too is another story.
      I was maybe 10 or 11 thought it was so pretty that I put it in our front window when I came home from school. It was lit up with it's blinking colored lights and felt wonderful. The tree may have only been a foot tall,  but it was there, shining for all the world to see.  That, as it turned out, was a problem.

  My mother came home from work couldn't have missed it. She marched into the house and  proceeded to have a conniption fit.  "What is wrong with you"?  "What will the neighbors think?" "Take that thing out of the window NOW!!!"  That was mom. If it was behind closed doors, who cared, but if the outside world knew, OMG. 

    So I was forced to remove it and we never had a tree in the house again. As an aside, we never had a menorah. As far as I could tell, it was Christmas 1, Chanukah 0.

  Now, I was on my own and damned if I weren't going to celebrate my favorite holiday. Iris was also Jewish, but she liked the idea as well. We trudged out in the cold to some usually empty lot in the neighborhood where they were now occupied to sell live trees.  And live it was we wanted  We wanted a full, tall, live tree.  And that's what we got. 

  You can see from the photo that we found one. It just about hit the ceiling.  Imagine the two of us lugging this tree through the streets. I suppose describing "us" would help.  I was a little heavier then than I am now, but I was still thin and 5'3".  Iris was taller, maybe 5'5", but she weighed over 300 pounds. A bit like a female Laurel and Hardy.  Picture these two young women in their early twenties, bundled up with hats and scarves and boots, wending out way through the lightly snow covered streets.  Carrying a tied up, heavy tree. These days, we could have used a phone to take a picture. Those days, we were lucky to have a phone in the apartment, although I must have had a camera since I have a picture of the tree.

   Such anticipation. Setting up our tree and presenting it for the world to see. Well, okay not maybe the world, but anyone who walked or drove down third street. Our apartment had an unusual set up for a brownstone. Most have the entrances that you go down some steps, and the door is under the staircase leading to the house. Out of sight.  Our door was next to the staircase and in full view of the street.  There was even  a window panel or either side of the glass door. Perfect. For people looking in. That too is another story.  As you see, I have lots and lots of them.

    We brought the tree in and untied her ropes and let her fir fly.  We put her in her stand and something wasn't right. No matter what we did, she wouldn't' stand up. Upon further review of the matter we discovered what was wrong. Our tree had a severe case of scoliosis. Her trunk was skewed so she couldn't balance herself.

    We did the only thing we could do. And trust me, we tried anything we could think of.  In the end our only option was to set her in the corner and lean her against the wall where it would hold her up. We were sorely disappointed that she wouldn't be a sight for the neighbors, but lying on the floor wasn't the type of sight we had in mind.

     We had to be very careful when we decorated her or went near her, as she had a tendency to list with the lightest touch. Still we loved our tree. I believe she was a Douglas Fir. Thick and with that beautiful scent that filled the air. Ah Tannenbaum.

      All was well until Iris got a phone call from her parents saying they wanted to visit her.  This was a very, very, big deal. She had lived on her own for over three years  and her folks had never been to visit her in any of her apartments. I take it they disapproved of her moving out. But, why now?  They were Orthodox Jews and were not going to be pleased that her daughter and room mate had a huge, flipping Christmas tree. No menorah in sight yet again. (Christmas 2, Chanukah 0). We couldn't hide the tree and taking her down and attempting to put her back up wasn't an option. So,we did what all children do at some point in their lives. We lied to her parents. (I am going to lie now too about my last name and use a fictitious one. I always hated my maiden name and still do).  So let's pretend is was Levy. Her parents thought that I was also Jewish so she would be busted big time.

    We thought about telling them that my name was O'levy and that I was  half Irish.  Somehow even our addled brains realized that would seem ridiculous. . My last name was on the door anyway, so we couldn't do that.  We finally opted for the easiest lie.  My dad was Jewish and my mom was Catholic. I was brought up with Catholic traditions so I had to have my tree.

    I was not around when her folks visited. I never met them.  It went well. Or that's what I seem to recall.  That part was her drama and not mine.  There are only so many tales one can keep track of.

     I do remember that those were some heady times. First apartment, first real jobs, new friends, living on our own. Figuring out who we were and who we might become.
     And I loved Iris. She was funny, compassionate and smart. We spent many nights just talking. And I remember, even back then that she was unusual. She also listened. So good night Iris. And thanks for the memories.

ps.  Our tree from three years ago. Artificial and not listing. And a few more decorations as well.

"land of the Brave and the Free" The only thing that is currently "free" is the opportunity to make an ass of yourself.

               

 

This morning I was paying the bills for December. I get checks at the end of the month. They get posted as "pending". That means if I were to transfer or "use" the money now, I'd be in trouble because they haven't given it to me yet.
So, I have to make sure that I put in the next date when I know the money will be mine.
        Why does this bother me?

1. They are government checks. Shouldn't they clear automatically?
2. They gave it to me, why won't you?
3. When I charge something on my credit card, which is also the same bank, the charges appear instantly. How come you don't have to wait?
4. If I see a 2 cent interest in the account I am delirious with joy.
5. How much interest do you make holding back everyone's money while it pends?
6. My "free" banking is limited to certain accounts. If I make more than 6 transfers online or on my cell, I get charged. If I don't want the charges I have to actually show up at the bank and do the transfers on their computer. Why????

      Another case of our upside down America. Did I get a say in who made these banking regulations?  I think not. I think we should all have a say in it since it's our fucking money.


remember. scroll down for comments etc.

'CUSE ME MAM, DO YOU HAVE A FREUDIAN SLIP IN A SIZE SMALL?

          Good Morning. I'm welcoming myself back from vacation which is why I have been silent for a week. We paid for the package for unlimited Wi-Fi, but the ship had internet problems the first day, and then we couldn't get our phones online etc. Bummer.
 I wanted to blog from the Caribbean, but the Universe shut me down.  * AD (digression)

  For those of you who have been reading these, you will have noticed that all sorts of things can come out of my mouth. Actually, it's from my brain channeled to my fingers onto the blog, but since I think of it as a conversation, to me, it's coming out of my mouth.

  For those of you who do actually know me, you, are already very aware of the things that I utter. ADHD can be cruel, as my censors, unlike those on radio or TV do not have a time delay. I therefore blurt out some things that I find myself having to explain (mostly to my husband, which now that I think about it ,is curious because most of the time he isn't listening, so why does he hear the things that I have to end up defending myself for?)

   Dr. Sigmund Freud, who I believe was a genius has been debunked, defrocked and derided over the past century. Both during, and  after his life time.

    No one gets it correct all the time, but to throw out an entire life's work over some probably erroneous theories, well that's just dumb.
 
     I will stick (or make a brave attempt) to the theory on Freudian slips. Everyone uses the term and hopefully knows what it means.

      Freud believed that an unconscious thought or feeling could pop into ones conscious mind and slip through the filters  of our thoughts, therefore giving voice to an innermost feeling.
 
        I don't know how many of you can relate.  Saying something you didn't mean to say and then not being able to take it back. I'm not talking about saying things you know you want to say and letting them slip, but things you didn't know you were feeling that came out in what you said.     


       Scientists who are now able to map the brain and understand cognition in ways Freud couldn't, have pretty much said that slips are not what Freud thought. Instead, neural connections fail, cross one another or possibly just errors that occur that are of no significance. I'm sure that they are mostly correct and even Freud said, "sometimes a cigar is just a cigar". Although I believe that he may have written that because he was in denial about how much phallic symbols were on his brain, and in his mouth.

      I have, however, over the course of my lifetime experienced those slips of the tongue that were definitely not crossed wires and, if I were someone who blushed, would have been bright red. Instead, I wanted to crawl into a hole or ended up defending what was said.
     Fortunately my errors often came out when speaking to a male, so he wasn't listening and didn't pick up on it.
  
     I suppose I remember this one because it was super embarrassing. I was in my twenties and had recently lost my job. A friend took me out and I met a guy at a bar on Hudson Street. We danced, and he took my number and actually called.

      We were on our first date and were asking the usual questions about what do you do, where did you go to school and other background information topics.

       He asked about my job, which as I mentioned, I had just lost. What came out of my mouth was a part of what I thought I was going to say.  "Oh, I just got laid".  Somehow the word "off" never made it out.

        So, were my neural connections crossed or was I thinking about sex?  I can't remember the rest of the conversation other than my  finishing the phrase and feeling like an overexposed photograph.  And yes, of course I was thinking about sex. It was a date. Duh???

        It's a wonderful human trait to be able to choose what you hear or see based on your believe system and change it depending upon situation and your feelings about it.

        People in the public eye have had to deal with this issue for ages.  Saying things taken out of context, photos when caught off guard.  All because of freedom of the press.  Which is essential to democracy.  It got worse once live broadcasts became possible, and there wasn't time to call the reporter and beg to  him or her to leave out a particular quote or photo.

        George W. said many things that I'm sure he wished he could take back. Were they Freudian slips?  Stupid remarks? Or failure of neural connections? This is America and you can decide for yourself depending upon how you feel about the man. I will say that he ones I can recall were probably not slips. 

         And what came into my mind when I wrote that?  You probably have to have a conscience to have an unconscious.  That was a nasty thought which is possibly why I didn't think they were slips. It wasn't what I was thinking when I wrote it, but it just popped up. That's the way my mind works.   ( I was leaning towards stupid, but also believe the possibility that he damaged his brain during his drinking years). No offense to people who like/love him. Just my opinion.

       Then, is it a Freudian slip if it makes no sense. Or at least not in a usual way?  Recently I was talking to someone about my overworked sense of responsibility and said " I feel obligated to start what I finished."  Something felt wrong.  I had reversed the usual statement of finishing what I start.

        On the bright side, I really liked this statement, so I wrote it down or I would forget it. You do recall that I have short term memory problems, right?  Just refer back to older blogs if you have memory problems too.

       The beauty of this "slip" is that you had to have started it because it's finished.  How ridiculous is that?
     Right now some of you are thinking at this moment. When is this going to be finished?
soon.

       The most recent occurrence which brought this ridiculous idea to mind was while on the cruise I said something that my husband got upset about. I wish I could say it was because I was drunk, which is a distinct possibility since it was a cruise, but it wasn't. Well, at least not drunk enough.  It also wasn't from my unconscious.

       It was more along the lines of daydreams and fantasy and imagination. I consider those areas to be private like the unconscious, but you are aware of them and in control of them.  Except when they accidentally spill out of your mouth in a conversation where your partner is actually listening.

      The content isn't important. It's the concept. Walking down the never ending hall to our room, I found myself defending my imagination.  I'm not Catholic. I don't expect to go to pre-purgatory for sins I think about, and have no intention of committing.
      Yet there I was, pleading my case so my husband would understand and not worry about my acting on a word. 

     True, if they are private or unconscious thoughts, we are supposed to keep them to ourselves. I get the principle.  My run away mouth does not. I can be at a get together with a group of friends and find myself calling out something I think is funny at an inappropriate moment. I don't apologize anymore because if you read my blog on apologies you'll understand.

     So, my theory is.............. Slips of the tongue happen. We often say things we don't want to say, but they slip out. Conscious or not, it doesn't matter. How it affects the someone who hears, it does. And us of course. My request in the title holds.  If I have to make a slip, please, let it be a little one.

keep scrolling to get to the comment section. pretty please with sugar on top.
Or I'll beat the crap out of you.   oops that was just a slip of the tongue. I meant to say tar. LOL