2000 Deciduous Trees : Memories of a Zine (9781937316051) Read Free

curiosity conquered my
imagination, and I opened the box. It seemed to be filled with
beautiful ornamental balls for the tree. I was disappointed that I
had not opened it immediately since two days before I had decided
to take the tree down for fear of fire. Now here was this box
filled with ornaments that would have to wait another year. Such an
aggravation.
    But as I began to pull one of the most
beautiful orbs I found there was great resistance and that the rest
of the balls were trying desperately to follow the lead of the
first.
    There were silver wires connecting each in a
variety of ways one to another or another to the rest. As I worked
to untangle the imposing mass, I tried not to wish for the other
things I had imagined she had sent me. But there was little hope
that I would find pleasure in such an array of yuletide finery. I
felt rather ashamed of my ingratitude. It haunted me that I had
given up, labeling the box, "Xmas from Mary J." And just storing it
with the others in my cellar.
    Two or three weeks later Mary called me. I
could hear the sun in her voice. I thought of the summer there and
her sheep grazing on verdant hills. Our conversation encompassed
several things but she had obviously called in reference to the
gift and I was agitated as to how I could express my feelings
without offending hers.
    After a pause which was most likely very
expensive from her side of the world to mine, she said, “Well,
Danny? What did you think of your model?"
    Since I was six virtually everyone I had
ever known called me Daniel. In fact I remember no terms of
endearment at all. Sometimes my mother would call me Daniel
Gustavo, but I believe this was only to hear together the two names
she had chosen for me. She seemed to need to reassure herself that
the unlikely combination of my first and middle names had not after
all been a mistake.
    But Mary called me Danny. She has always
called me Danny. And she still does.
    Without thinking or planning my next
sentence I heard my reply, "My what?"
    "You didn't get my gift? And here I was so
angry with you for not thanking me. You didn't even get it. Mail is
so awkward at Christmas. I do hope it is not entirely lost. I
worked on it for almost a year. And I thought of it ages before
that."
    Although it would have been rather simple at
that point to avoid telling her what I actually thought of the gift
I could not in good conscience do so. "No, Mary. I received it some
time ago. I kept it wrapped up for a period of weeks having some
fun in a guessing game. But it seems even with it open I have
guessed wrong. I had presumed you sent me a box of ornaments for my
tree."
    Her laughter sounded more like a bleating
sheep than I had remembered. Maybe it was my momentary avarice.
"Not tree ornaments, love. That's the sky. Didn't you read the
card?"
    I had not.
    I carried the phone into the basement and
opened the box for a second, more informed inspection. She was
extraordinary. Mercury, Pluto, Jupiter, Mars. How could I have
mistaken Saturn's rings for an abstractly-rendered halo?
    She must have guessed I had tangled them
terribly. "If you pull up gently on the sun the others will, or at
least they should, just drop into place."
    I did this and held up a glorious mobile. So
many moons, and I had to ask how long it had taken her to string
the seemingly thousands of fuzzy bits depicting the asteroid belt.
I could not hide my incredulity and I believe it quite flattered
her. She hesitated at first, saying that I must think it awful
since I had not even recognized Earth. But after hearing my praise
she shared with me several very interesting pieces of trivia which
she had become aware of while researching the solar system and
which facts were all apparently represented in her masterpiece.
    With some instruction I had no trouble
seeing any of them.
    We talked every few weeks after that and
wrote as often. She realized I couldn't very well lock the doors to
my little shop and go to New Zealand just