Day 47: Talismen

A few weeks ago I wrote about Susie, my husband's cousin who died. Well, when she was ill she created a trust for the benefit of her young daughters and she asked me to act as trustee. It's been a big responsibility and, given what's happened with the stock market in the last year, a nerve-racking one. I finally managed to get her house sold and today was the closing. A nice young couple with a baby bought it. I hope they'll be very happy in their new home. I wish them long lives, certainly long enough to watch their children grow up and marry, have families of their own.

Afterwards I went into a small store in town, the one that sells the rude "50 Sucks" lollipops, and I noticed a bowl of metal acorns by the cash register. The sign next to it said, "An old folk belief holds that carrying an acorn insures a long life." For $1.60 you better believe I scooped one up. You can't be too careful.

Of course, if I'd really been using my ass-brain I would've realized that I could get one for free outside. It's that time of year, after all, when the oaks are shedding their fruit. I suggest you all go outside right now and gather up a few: put one in your purse, one in your pocket, one in your car, one in your underwear drawer, maybe even one under your pillow.

I'm ashamed to admit that when my kids were little the tooth fairy often bypassed our house. One of them would put a tooth under his or her pillow with great glee, but the wretched fairy would forget to come. It got to the point where poor little H had three or four teeth under her pillow at one time; she never gave up. When the tooth fairy finally deigned to visit, she left H a cunning little note on tooth-shaped paper explaining why she'd been so delayed. Being the youngest, H has gotten used to such things and is a more resilient child as a result. She's tenacious. At least this is what the tooth fairy tells herself.

There was a hickory tree in the front yard of my childhood home, and my dad always kept a few nuts from that tree on his dresser. There were lots of other little bits and pieces on his dresser as well -- I found it a fascinating place. But the nuts are the only objects I clearly remember. Actually, that's not true. Now that I think about it, he also had these foul little licorice candies, they couldn't have been any bigger than a lithium button battery, that came wrapped in black paper with red polka dots. I knew I hated them, yet I'd go for them time and time again, hoping they would have become magically delicious (H and I are a lot alike).

The fall after my dad died, I visited his gravestone, and what did I find on it but two or three hickory nuts. A shout out from Dad? I like to think so.

Maybe I'll keep my little silver acorn on my dresser as well.