chest

It’s pretty much taken most of my life for my mother to gain position possession of the trunk pictured above that’s been in her family she thinks since perhaps as far back as when they came to this country from Wales, whenever the heck that may have been.

Seriously, my mom wanting this thing and my aunt Frieda for whatever reason not getting it to her has been a contentious and ongoing issue between the two going back to when I first learned about it when I was something like 7 years old.

I may have the story all wrong, but I believe it passed from my mother’s grandparents to her aunt Nell who wanted my mother to have it when she passed. But that never happened in part because my mother had come to California after college and so my Aunt Frieda accepted it on her wayward sister’s behalf.

At various points in my life, my mom would grouse and fume about Frieda never sending it to her, and however it came about, my aunt finally shipped the trunk out to her a year or so ago, where it’s since sat taking up space in the spare bedroom of my mother’s apartment, and while happy to finally have it she’s been grousing about it’s poor condition and threatening to spend waaaaay too much money restoring it.

Seeing as it may be somewhere around 150 years old (or more), I think it looks great.

And the reason Susan and I suddenly now have it is because mom’s looking to do something with the tiny spare room and she very well can’t with this monster gobbling up most of its space. No kidding: the thing’s almost as tall as it is close to four feet wide! So on New Year’s Day yesterday after getting our fill of her traditional meal of “hoppin’ john” while watching the Rose Bowl, I wrestled this thing out of her apartment and into the truck and home, where it now resides in the basement for the time being — at least until my mom wants it returned or we find a place for it in the house once our renovations are completed later this year.

You can bet should mom say bring it back, I’ll get it over there without delay!