After the weekend with minimal internet activity, I have resumed packing my main office. Today, I addressed The Tree of Life.
Not the hot movie, but a knick-knack in my office.
My tree is Mexican folk art, acquired on a wonderful vacation when I was 13 years old. We drove through Mexico over several weeks in my grandparents' Ford LTD. I sat in the front bench seat, between my dad and mom. My little brother got the center back between the grandparents.
The journey began in Brownsville-Matamoros where we picked up the original Panamerican Highway. It wound south through mountainous rain forests, and every cut-back turn might obscure a donkey cart piled high with 10 feet of produce. Eventually we reached Mexico City where we spent several days trekking through the usual tourist stops. We marched up Aztec pyramids and pretended to be human sacrifices. We headed south again through Taxco and silver country to Acapulco. After some beach time, we headed north again on the new Panamerican Highway, re-entering the US at Laredo-Nuevo Laredo. What an adventure we had!
While touring, my mom and I fell in love with the bright (OK, gaudy) Trees of Life which presented such a perfect fusion of native crafts and European invasion. Yup, that is Adam and Even with leaves obscuring their naughty bits! My mom bargained the price down on this one, and she swore it would fit in the suitcase, cradled by dirty clothes.
It did not.
It ended up making the ride back to Missouri in our laps in the front seat of the car.
When my current office opened, my parents were beginning to divest themselves of stuff to downsize. The Tree of Life would be cast off into a landfill somewhere. As I complained that my new office boasted four white walls, gray steel furniture, and no color, my mom suggested this doodad would brighten things up.
Given what we went through to get this critter back home, I was not allowing it to be thrown out easily. For 6 years it has graced the top of my lateral file. I do not know how it will work in my office at the new place, but I will try to make it fit.
After all, it represents an adventure.