When I was a kid, my family moved a lot. Florida, Virginia, New York, Colorado ... when someone asks me where I grew up, I never know quite what to say.
As an adult, I've also moved more times than I care to remember. Since coming to Los Angeles 14 years ago, however, I've actually been pretty stable - I've only moved six times.
It always sucks. Even when you're happy about where you're going, it's stressful. Watching George and Jackie prepare to move over the last few weeks has left me empathetic.
It's also left me a lot of stuff.
As he's been paring down to take off, George has been gifting me all kinds of cool belongings. It's a random assortment that's dribbled in as he's made tough packing choices: a half-dozen books, a painting he's had since high school, an antique meat scale, a gazillion This American Life shows on tape (all handmade), the extra-special 1977 presidential plate (featuring all 38 Commander in Chiefs, with Jimmy Carter in the center), an antique wooden mini bar (with amber glass decanters) ... the list goes on.
The best gift of all, though - without question - is Door Monkey. I just noticed him tonight, sitting in the bottom of a box, smiling up at me with one hand raised in salutation. I picked him up and smiled.
Door Monkey has been stationed next to the door at George's house for as long as I can remember. George's keys were generally hung on DM's hand - or, on occasion, tossed into the foot dish. When George used to wear a watch, I think I remember seeing that there, too, and sometimes, Door Monkey was in charge of George's wallet.
He had a lot of responsibility. I guess that's why he wears the top hat.
I was surprised George had gifted me Door Monkey. When I called him up and asked why he was letting him go, George said something about having had a lot of good years together, but it being time for someone else to steward him. When I mentioned that I didn't have a place for Door Monkey by my door - and that maybe he'd have to become Desk Monkey - the idea was gently shot down.
Apparently, Door Monkey has a job to do, and if you deny him this job, well, George says he can't be responsible for the "mischief" DM might get up to.
So ... I guess I'll be finding Door Monkey a home near my door. I actually kind of like the idea, because then, every time I walk in or out, I'll think of George.
It's funny how one little thing - a strange little monkey, no less - can make a big thing somehow easier to bear.
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