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Oh, Mama, can this really be the end?
I spent two hours this morning restringing my fish mobile. I believe that I've had it slightly more than half my life, at least if you allow a somewhat loose definition of "own." It was bought for at least one of us girls at the Boston Aquarium during one of our annual trips "home." My parents were both Bostonians, and their parents still lived there (my father's in East Boston and my mother's in Cambridge) so the vacation trip every summer was to Boston. I remember the trip to the aquarium. There was an octopus, who looked so very mournful and alien.
I do not remember the mobile being in our bedroom in Upstate New York, so that means it can't have been bought any earlier than the Summer of 1971. Bethany and I, who chared a bedroom, assigned a family member to each of the fish on the mobile. Since there were only five fish, that means that it was before Rachel was born, December 24th, 1972. Given those parameters, I'm pretty sure that we got it during our annual vacation to Boston during the Summer of 1972.
The mobile is made of thin black metal rods and nylon string, about the weight of light fishing line. The fish are flat plastic, and are decorated with large scales, delineated in black lines. The lighter colors are translucent; they look a bit like stained glass. Properly balanced, the fish move in a lazy, elegant way that is very reminiscient of real fish. It was a finicky mobile. The least little thing knocked it askew; just the right breath of wind, a light touch in just the wrong way, or even for no reason at all. Maybe brownies rode it in the night like a merry-go-round. I was the Keepeer of the Mobile, mostly because no one else would or could. I would stand on Beth's bed, reach over my head, and try to make minimal adjustments. Any careless movement on my part would cause the whole thing to fall apart, sometimes even dropping bits on the bed. I couldn't take the mobile down because I didn't have the ability to put it back up, and if we waited for our parents to get around to re-hanging it, we might be old ladies before it was restored. When one of the threads came loose, I would have to put it back on its rod. The knots were good, so the loop would still be there, I'd merely have to thread the rod through the loop -- merely! There's an understatement. Trial and error, working on a mobile that is already hung -- every error means that you start back at the beginning.
How it was that I got to leave with the mobile when I left home, I do not know. I can't remember if it was considered to be mine, or if it was considered to be mine and Beth's but because I'd been its keeper for so long its ownership passed to me, or if no one notices. Maybe Beth didn't want the fish. Over the past 30 odd years, I've usually had them up in some space that I considered to be mine -- often the bedroom but sometimes the study. The mobile is like my books, a tangible part of my personal world, something that I find imbued with spectacular beauty, even though I know that most people see something rather fair and ordinary.
The mobile was in my current bedroom for many years. Then, back when I was dating Rachael, she was a little bit too enthusiastic about shaking out the bedding, and the comforter gave the mobile a good crack. It all came tumbling down. I remember thinking, "Oh, that's not a good omen." Poor Rachel. She was abjectly apologietic. She hadn't done anything wrong, she'd just had a touch of bad luck. I felt sorry for her, I know how miserably humiliating something like that can be, even if you are totally righteous. I gathered up all the rods and fish and put them aside, intending to fix it soon.
That was any number of years ago. About a year ago, I rescued it from whatever storage nook it was in, and carefully windexed the fish with the intent of putting it up. The intentions of the Lydy grind slow, but exceedingly fine. Or something. Recently, DDB gestured towards my aquariums and said, "See how much money you could have saved if you'd just gotten around fixing your mobile earlier."
Well, probably not. It is nice for it to be up, though, above the bed. Quite satisfactory.
While I was stringing the mobile, I was keeping an eye on my injured fish, Helena. She was much worse, today. The scrapes had developed a thick white fuzz on them, presumably a fungus. There was a line of red below the scapes, suggesting septicemia. She was less able to manouver, and it looked like her caudal fin had eroded severely during the night. Certainly, she was barely able to move at all. I made an occasional attept to help, when it looked like she had gotten caught on one of the plastic leaves. I futz too much, I may have done more harm than good.
As the afternoon went on, she got worse and worse. I had spoken to a vet, and it really didn't seem like there was anything else I could do; indeed, it sounded like I was going to have to put her down in the next day or so. After some thought, I added some Quickcure to the Furazone Green that I had already dosed the tank with. Again, I futz too much. Maybe that was too much medication.
When I got back from dinner tonight, quite late, Helena was dead. I've put her in a plastic bag, then put the bag in a cardboard box, and the box into the freezer. I'll bury her tomorrow.
She didn't live with me very long. Neither do fish have the capacity to develop much in the way of personality. Still, I was very fond of Helena. She used to challenge the severum, and they would play "kissy face." Helena was almost always the aggressor, but she didn't chase or harrass him. Severa was longer than she, but I think she might have massed more than he. She seemed to be a cheerful sort, really, and not afraid, not even of Julian, twice her size.
Poor Helena. She was a nice fish, and wasn't afraid of me.
Bed time. I wish I could say something more easily understood, or more descriptive. I wish I had a picture of her before she got sick.
P.S. This has been extensively edited, as what was initially posted was written at midnight while I was falling over, and couldn't get my thoughts to line up properly. I've still missed some stuff I wanted to say, but I hope this is more coherent.
I spent two hours this morning restringing my fish mobile. I believe that I've had it slightly more than half my life, at least if you allow a somewhat loose definition of "own." It was bought for at least one of us girls at the Boston Aquarium during one of our annual trips "home." My parents were both Bostonians, and their parents still lived there (my father's in East Boston and my mother's in Cambridge) so the vacation trip every summer was to Boston. I remember the trip to the aquarium. There was an octopus, who looked so very mournful and alien.
I do not remember the mobile being in our bedroom in Upstate New York, so that means it can't have been bought any earlier than the Summer of 1971. Bethany and I, who chared a bedroom, assigned a family member to each of the fish on the mobile. Since there were only five fish, that means that it was before Rachel was born, December 24th, 1972. Given those parameters, I'm pretty sure that we got it during our annual vacation to Boston during the Summer of 1972.
The mobile is made of thin black metal rods and nylon string, about the weight of light fishing line. The fish are flat plastic, and are decorated with large scales, delineated in black lines. The lighter colors are translucent; they look a bit like stained glass. Properly balanced, the fish move in a lazy, elegant way that is very reminiscient of real fish. It was a finicky mobile. The least little thing knocked it askew; just the right breath of wind, a light touch in just the wrong way, or even for no reason at all. Maybe brownies rode it in the night like a merry-go-round. I was the Keepeer of the Mobile, mostly because no one else would or could. I would stand on Beth's bed, reach over my head, and try to make minimal adjustments. Any careless movement on my part would cause the whole thing to fall apart, sometimes even dropping bits on the bed. I couldn't take the mobile down because I didn't have the ability to put it back up, and if we waited for our parents to get around to re-hanging it, we might be old ladies before it was restored. When one of the threads came loose, I would have to put it back on its rod. The knots were good, so the loop would still be there, I'd merely have to thread the rod through the loop -- merely! There's an understatement. Trial and error, working on a mobile that is already hung -- every error means that you start back at the beginning.
How it was that I got to leave with the mobile when I left home, I do not know. I can't remember if it was considered to be mine, or if it was considered to be mine and Beth's but because I'd been its keeper for so long its ownership passed to me, or if no one notices. Maybe Beth didn't want the fish. Over the past 30 odd years, I've usually had them up in some space that I considered to be mine -- often the bedroom but sometimes the study. The mobile is like my books, a tangible part of my personal world, something that I find imbued with spectacular beauty, even though I know that most people see something rather fair and ordinary.
The mobile was in my current bedroom for many years. Then, back when I was dating Rachael, she was a little bit too enthusiastic about shaking out the bedding, and the comforter gave the mobile a good crack. It all came tumbling down. I remember thinking, "Oh, that's not a good omen." Poor Rachel. She was abjectly apologietic. She hadn't done anything wrong, she'd just had a touch of bad luck. I felt sorry for her, I know how miserably humiliating something like that can be, even if you are totally righteous. I gathered up all the rods and fish and put them aside, intending to fix it soon.
That was any number of years ago. About a year ago, I rescued it from whatever storage nook it was in, and carefully windexed the fish with the intent of putting it up. The intentions of the Lydy grind slow, but exceedingly fine. Or something. Recently, DDB gestured towards my aquariums and said, "See how much money you could have saved if you'd just gotten around fixing your mobile earlier."
Well, probably not. It is nice for it to be up, though, above the bed. Quite satisfactory.
While I was stringing the mobile, I was keeping an eye on my injured fish, Helena. She was much worse, today. The scrapes had developed a thick white fuzz on them, presumably a fungus. There was a line of red below the scapes, suggesting septicemia. She was less able to manouver, and it looked like her caudal fin had eroded severely during the night. Certainly, she was barely able to move at all. I made an occasional attept to help, when it looked like she had gotten caught on one of the plastic leaves. I futz too much, I may have done more harm than good.
As the afternoon went on, she got worse and worse. I had spoken to a vet, and it really didn't seem like there was anything else I could do; indeed, it sounded like I was going to have to put her down in the next day or so. After some thought, I added some Quickcure to the Furazone Green that I had already dosed the tank with. Again, I futz too much. Maybe that was too much medication.
When I got back from dinner tonight, quite late, Helena was dead. I've put her in a plastic bag, then put the bag in a cardboard box, and the box into the freezer. I'll bury her tomorrow.
She didn't live with me very long. Neither do fish have the capacity to develop much in the way of personality. Still, I was very fond of Helena. She used to challenge the severum, and they would play "kissy face." Helena was almost always the aggressor, but she didn't chase or harrass him. Severa was longer than she, but I think she might have massed more than he. She seemed to be a cheerful sort, really, and not afraid, not even of Julian, twice her size.
Poor Helena. She was a nice fish, and wasn't afraid of me.
Bed time. I wish I could say something more easily understood, or more descriptive. I wish I had a picture of her before she got sick.
P.S. This has been extensively edited, as what was initially posted was written at midnight while I was falling over, and couldn't get my thoughts to line up properly. I've still missed some stuff I wanted to say, but I hope this is more coherent.
