TREASURE HUNT

Well, I've done it again! My annual treasure hunt is underway. This tradition is many ,many years in the making and has become such a customary part of our holidays that it has even extended to birthdays and anniversaries. You see, I start shopping early for gifts, when I am out somewhere and something catches my eye that I think a family member or friend will like. Even if the event to cele- brate is months away, I squirrel it away, to bring out and wrap at he proper time. I have a large, two-story house, but it has become filled to the max throughout my many years of receiving gifts from my family and friends. Being overly senti- mental and slightly superstitious, I seldom part with gifts given to me, regardless of the price or age of item. (I still have the plaster handprints, the hand-made cards, and painted ornaments that my children made thirty and forty years ago.) That's just the kind of mother that I am. Though my head tells me to part with things, when it comes to discarding my treasures, I cling to them as if they were living instead of just things. (Not only mine, but my children's trove of memorabilia.) My closets are filled with ancient cheerleading outfits, sports equipment, love letters, and such keepsakes from their school years. I tried to give Daughter all her treasure but she does not want clutter in her new house. "You keep it for me, Mom. The boys may want to see it someday." To which I reply, "Okay, but when I'm gone, you will have one heckava time sorting it out. You'll have to get one of those dumpsters park in the driveway for a month or so." This tears at my heart because not too long ago, we went through the same thing at my mother's house when both parents had passed away and the house need to be emptied for sale. My sister and I spent weeks sorting and sitting crying while we looked at things she had collected. It prolonged the grief , I suppose, but it also brought back many precious memories of our childhood. I think memories are the best to collect and as we get older, they sometimes slip to\ the back of our minds and need to be refreshed by a aged photo or doo-dad. I said all this to say that my house is full. Even though it is big, closets, drawers, bookcases, Everything is full, so when I start stashing my Christmas gifts, I have to search for places to put them. I have six , long , narrow drawers under a king- sized waterbed that can hold small things, I put jewely boxes, colognes and other small thing in there for safe keeping. I resolved this year to only buy small things which are usually more expensive anyway, so that they could be easily wrapped and stored, then transported to their varied recipients. GOOD PLAN, if it worked. Then, when I was dining one day in fall at Cracker Barrel, I came upon a fine set of horshoes in a wooden carrying case, and a neat croquet set which my sweeties DD had admired, but passed over even though they were both half price. Aha! A good gift for her family, that could be enjoyed for many summers. So, I went back later and bought both of them with smug pleasure. I could mark that off my Christmas list. When I got home, I realized that I needed a place to store them until time for giving, and I began to look around for a place. Several places occured to me that were large enough to hold them, but when I went there, they were either full or not big enough. Finally, I must have found a place where they would not be in my way for months. I dunno. Friday, as I prepared for my trip to sweetie's DD's home for their annual dinner and gift exchange, I needed to wrap their presents. And so it began! The treasure hunt. Now, it started out fun but as I could not remember which of the places I had finally stashed them, it turned frantic. As the day progressed, I changed from a leisurely packing organizer to a frantic madwoman, tearing madly from place to place, searching every nook and cranny for the elusive gifts. I left behind a trail of jumbled closets, opened suitcases , boxes and bags that would take me a month to repack. So much for my early planning. I finally despaired of finding them, and thought I'd have to go shopping , but I finally put together a collection of gifts intended for others to take to them. I may find them in time for her February birthday. When I called my daughter later and related my frantic search, she said in a matter- of-fact tone, "So, what else is new? Mom, you have been doing this as long as I can remember." And she is right, darn it. I reminded her that it all began because Santa could not hide her gifts anywhere she coud not forage them out of and secretly play with for some time before Christmas. She knew all my hiding places and I had to be really creative to elude her prying eyes. She said, "Oh, but it was such fun. It made it last a long long time. And I learned to rewrap gifts so neatly, so that you didn't suspect." Yes, I did suspect and finally, one Christmas, at a loss for anywhere she could not get at, I had resorted to leaving them locked in the trunk of the car. That Christmas eve, the children were so excited that they could not go to sleep. We waited and waited for silence so that we could retrieve the Santa gifts from the car. Finally, Hubby went off to sleep and I was left to handle it alone. It was bitterly cold, near zero, and an icy snow had fallen, making the driveway slick. I bundled up and gingerly made my way to the car, thinking I could do it in two or three trips. To my surprise, the key would not turn in the icy lock. I fumbled frantically until my fingers were frozen and the tears on my cheeks had frozen also. I even tried pouring a pan of hot water over it to no avail. I went back inside and awakened Hubby with my panicked tale. He said, "I'll get up at daylight and try to get them out." I was awakened the morning of Christmas Day by two excited children who had run down to see an empty tree, cookies not eaten. I will never forget the look on their faces as they felt it had finally happened, they had been so bad that Santa had forgot them. My desperate Hubby, who had overslept , had to wait almost until noon before he could thaw the lock. Santa was sure running late that year. A memorable Christmas, for the wrong reasons. My DD assured that they had already known who supplied Santa, but that was the night my Hubby and I stopped believing in him. When we talked about this experience yesterday and the lost gifts, my daughter reassured me, "Mom, thats as much a tradition for me as any other. You pull out hidden gifts for a month after Christmas. I actually look forward to it." I guess I will continue to hide them from myself, Despite all my scourging myself about being less sentimental and more organized, I hope they like me this way. I'm too old to change now. Happy holidays, especially Merry Christmas. I