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Tubular Bells
Dec. 27th, 2019 07:50 pmA few weeks ago, just before her birthday, I'd seen a large, probably metallic ring wrapped in thick strands of red and white nylon cord at the Michael's craft store near where I live. Attached to the ring were three different lengths of the same red and white cord, each with a hand-crafted, tubular-style bell hanging from the end of it.
I thought the bells were quite artful, in their rustic fashion, not fussy or showy but functional and durable as well as melodic.
In fact, I thought they were nearly perfect except for the decorative cords which adorned the ring and attached them to it. Because, although they were in tune with the season, that really wasn't what I'd been looking for. Instead, I wanted something that would remain appropriate beyond the season--along with surviving the winter weather.
The LAST thing I wanted was something which, come springtime, would look like one of those sorry decorations that someone had neglected to take down and store for a future holiday. And so I left the bells where they were hanging and chose some golden-yellow straw flowers instead. Because that shade of yellow had been her favorite color.
A couple of weeks later though, after I'd finished the rest of my Christmas shopping, I thought about the bells again.
But this time I drove to the Marshall's Home Center, which is in the same strip mall as Michael's, and began perusing their somewhat randomly-displayed goods. And there, I found another strand of bells. Two, in fact. One in bright gold, the other in bright silver.
They were more traditionally-shaped than the tubular ones, but were also hand-rendered from sheet metal--which I sort of liked. But they were hung on something like the baling twine that I'd seen during haying season on my grandparents' farm. And the finish on them looked like it came directly from the spray cans we'd used to "customize" our bikes when we were kids. (Our fathers said we'd "ruined" them.)
But now it was the day before Christmas and I was desperate. I continued through the store, searching even the disheveled "sale" tables for a chain that might be substituted for the baling twine.
Then I thought about the tubular bells I'd seen previously at Michael's. If I could bother to re-hang the sorry pieces of bling that I'd found at Marshall's, I could surely do the same with the ones I'd really liked at Michael's. If they were still there, a day before the holiday.
So I walked a couple of doors down to Michael's and found my way back to the now sorely-depleted section where the Christmas decorations had been.
I located the rack where the tubular bells had hung but found, in their place, dozens of what looked like over-sized sleigh bells instead. Once again I went trekking through the store, this time hoping to find a strand of bells that had perhaps been misplaced in the holiday frenzy and was thus serendipitously awaiting my return.
But alas, no such luck.
Drifting a bit aimlessly now, I found myself back in the section where the remaining bells still hung. With desperation setting in again, I looked more closely at the sleigh bells--trying to decide between them and the artificial bling next door.
Suddenly, at the very back of the display, I caught a familiar profile. Pushing the sleigh bells aside, I found three sets of the tubular ones. The way they were hidden, I wondered if maybe a store employee had been trying to save them for a friend or was just hoping to scoop them up after the season. (On the other hand, it could also be that some harried stock person was simply condensing the leftovers in the quickest way possible.)
But now I had another problem. How the heck was I gonna move all the bells that were hanging in front of the ones I wanted? Should I call someone from the checkout line--where they're totally slammed with last-minute shoppers--or should I attempt it myself? Because, if I dropped those suckers, it was gonna be hella noisy in there for a minute.
With the holiday looming, and needing daylight to complete my plan, I started pulling them off the long rod they were hanging on, finally managing to hook all twelve sets of them over my left thumb.
With the three sets of tubular bells finally within reach, I noticed that one of them in the nearest set had a slight ding in it. I immediately thought of the proverbial straw that broke the camel's back--and wondered if the same idea applied to sleigh bells and thumbs. As it turned out, I did manage to remove the damaged set so I could get to the second-to-last one on the rack.
And then, adding a second miracle to the one celebrated by the season, I managed to get the others back on the rack without mishap.
Next, in a nearby section of the store, I found a length of metal chain--which somewhat matched the bells--and a packet of mounting rings to secure them to it.
Then I went home, removed the bells from their red and white cords, and gathered up a few tools to take with me for the on-site part of the project. But before I left, I texted my daughter that I was heading to Eastwood to do a "craft project" for her mom. (She likes me to keep her informed, especially when my whereabouts happen to be in the city.)
Upon arriving, I found that the gate where I normally enter was already closed and locked because darkness would soon be falling. So I continued on to the far gate and then slowly made my way through that quietest of all neighborhoods.
Beside her marker is a white ceramic angel that I'd gotten before the permanent marker was in place. And it was on this angel's out-stretched arms that I'd decided to hang the bells. Which is why I had to finish the project on-site. To, you know, be sure that the chain was cut to the right length and that the bells would hang just right once they were in place.
By the time I finished, the light was beginning to fail and I was getting cold. But when I got back to the car, I discovered that my daughter had texted me, thanking me for letting her know what I was up to and saying that she'd like to hear about the "craft project" when I came for Christmas dinner the next day.
So I got back out of my car, which was backed into a seldom-used service road, and walked back to take a picture of her mom's angel with the tubular bells. Because, you know, a picture is worth a thousand words.
And this time, before I left, I told her that she'd be loved--and remembered--by everyone at the family table tomorrow...
LPK
Dreamwidth
12.27.2019
I thought the bells were quite artful, in their rustic fashion, not fussy or showy but functional and durable as well as melodic.
In fact, I thought they were nearly perfect except for the decorative cords which adorned the ring and attached them to it. Because, although they were in tune with the season, that really wasn't what I'd been looking for. Instead, I wanted something that would remain appropriate beyond the season--along with surviving the winter weather.
The LAST thing I wanted was something which, come springtime, would look like one of those sorry decorations that someone had neglected to take down and store for a future holiday. And so I left the bells where they were hanging and chose some golden-yellow straw flowers instead. Because that shade of yellow had been her favorite color.
A couple of weeks later though, after I'd finished the rest of my Christmas shopping, I thought about the bells again.
But this time I drove to the Marshall's Home Center, which is in the same strip mall as Michael's, and began perusing their somewhat randomly-displayed goods. And there, I found another strand of bells. Two, in fact. One in bright gold, the other in bright silver.
They were more traditionally-shaped than the tubular ones, but were also hand-rendered from sheet metal--which I sort of liked. But they were hung on something like the baling twine that I'd seen during haying season on my grandparents' farm. And the finish on them looked like it came directly from the spray cans we'd used to "customize" our bikes when we were kids. (Our fathers said we'd "ruined" them.)
But now it was the day before Christmas and I was desperate. I continued through the store, searching even the disheveled "sale" tables for a chain that might be substituted for the baling twine.
Then I thought about the tubular bells I'd seen previously at Michael's. If I could bother to re-hang the sorry pieces of bling that I'd found at Marshall's, I could surely do the same with the ones I'd really liked at Michael's. If they were still there, a day before the holiday.
So I walked a couple of doors down to Michael's and found my way back to the now sorely-depleted section where the Christmas decorations had been.
I located the rack where the tubular bells had hung but found, in their place, dozens of what looked like over-sized sleigh bells instead. Once again I went trekking through the store, this time hoping to find a strand of bells that had perhaps been misplaced in the holiday frenzy and was thus serendipitously awaiting my return.
But alas, no such luck.
Drifting a bit aimlessly now, I found myself back in the section where the remaining bells still hung. With desperation setting in again, I looked more closely at the sleigh bells--trying to decide between them and the artificial bling next door.
Suddenly, at the very back of the display, I caught a familiar profile. Pushing the sleigh bells aside, I found three sets of the tubular ones. The way they were hidden, I wondered if maybe a store employee had been trying to save them for a friend or was just hoping to scoop them up after the season. (On the other hand, it could also be that some harried stock person was simply condensing the leftovers in the quickest way possible.)
But now I had another problem. How the heck was I gonna move all the bells that were hanging in front of the ones I wanted? Should I call someone from the checkout line--where they're totally slammed with last-minute shoppers--or should I attempt it myself? Because, if I dropped those suckers, it was gonna be hella noisy in there for a minute.
With the holiday looming, and needing daylight to complete my plan, I started pulling them off the long rod they were hanging on, finally managing to hook all twelve sets of them over my left thumb.
With the three sets of tubular bells finally within reach, I noticed that one of them in the nearest set had a slight ding in it. I immediately thought of the proverbial straw that broke the camel's back--and wondered if the same idea applied to sleigh bells and thumbs. As it turned out, I did manage to remove the damaged set so I could get to the second-to-last one on the rack.
And then, adding a second miracle to the one celebrated by the season, I managed to get the others back on the rack without mishap.
Next, in a nearby section of the store, I found a length of metal chain--which somewhat matched the bells--and a packet of mounting rings to secure them to it.
Then I went home, removed the bells from their red and white cords, and gathered up a few tools to take with me for the on-site part of the project. But before I left, I texted my daughter that I was heading to Eastwood to do a "craft project" for her mom. (She likes me to keep her informed, especially when my whereabouts happen to be in the city.)
Upon arriving, I found that the gate where I normally enter was already closed and locked because darkness would soon be falling. So I continued on to the far gate and then slowly made my way through that quietest of all neighborhoods.
Beside her marker is a white ceramic angel that I'd gotten before the permanent marker was in place. And it was on this angel's out-stretched arms that I'd decided to hang the bells. Which is why I had to finish the project on-site. To, you know, be sure that the chain was cut to the right length and that the bells would hang just right once they were in place.
By the time I finished, the light was beginning to fail and I was getting cold. But when I got back to the car, I discovered that my daughter had texted me, thanking me for letting her know what I was up to and saying that she'd like to hear about the "craft project" when I came for Christmas dinner the next day.
So I got back out of my car, which was backed into a seldom-used service road, and walked back to take a picture of her mom's angel with the tubular bells. Because, you know, a picture is worth a thousand words.
And this time, before I left, I told her that she'd be loved--and remembered--by everyone at the family table tomorrow...
LPK
Dreamwidth
12.27.2019
