The Lamp, The Lady, and The Memories

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I like this lamp. It stands over the couch like a tired sentinel with past memories lurking behind. Slouching slightly with classic style and grace. It sleeps now preparing for nightfall when duty calls.

Behind are a graveyard of relics. Most noticeable are the once formidable but now unused speakers standing proud like Stonehenge. They are still connected to the shamed and unseen outdated stereo below. Ignored and shunned for a lack of iPod or blue tooth connectivity it shares space with a cd rack filled with outdated hard copies previously converted to smarty pants digital signals currently being translated by superior modern day techy gadgetry.

Atop the two behemoths sit an array of trinkets of emotional connections. Left to right:
– A gift from friends attuned to our penchant for relicy things.
– A domino with sentimental numerical value.
– Barely visible is a rubix cube adorned with the logo of our favorite sports team. Not a single tiny cube ever has or ever will be turned for it is known that if turned no person residing here has the intellectual super power required to restore it to its proper state.
– The cute little Pixar book light. A gift given by a previously unknown neighbor during the power outage following the menacing super storm. After seeing my wife perched upon the window sill valiantly, but barely catching the light required to read, this thoughtful young lady brought us a helpful little battery powered friend. She also dubbed my beloved “The Lady in the Window” which I loved.
– Al the Gator. Souvenir purchased on our first vacation in New Orleans. Petrified and frozen in time. I know some may consider it creepy, gross and maybe even unethical, but Al’s my friend. He stays no matter what The Lady in the Window says.

Between the behemoths is a mysterious box filled with grandiose sonic pleasures and delight. Thirteen (I think thirteen anyway) classic tomes scribed and minstreled by “The Greatest American Rock Band” ever. The box sits idle for years as its contents have been transformed and now assume new sentient forms like its brothers in the adjoining rack.

Another souvenir sits stubbornly and unmoving. Once a child’s toy, now a tangible memory. Aneheim, California, 1988, Disneyland, Pirates of the Carribean ride. Menacing piratey voices, “Arrr ya scurvy dog!” Cannons, “Boom!” Ships with giant skull and cross bones flags. Eight year old boy heaven. A cherished memory that is safely held between the speakers in front of the box and behind the lamp.

I love that lamp and everything behind it.

http://PoorlyThoughtOutThoughts.wordpress.com

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