A Tragic Christmas Morality Tale

To describe a Morality Tale as 'Tragic' probably is redundant to some extent.  When I think of all the Morality Tales that have been written or told throughout the ages, I find that almost all of them ARE tragic.  Whether it is the tale of the boy who was eaten by a Wolf after issuing too many false warnings, or a nursery rhyme involving a boy who kissed all the girls and made them cry only to be unveiled as an adject coward when faced with other boys, they tend to be dire warnings of one kind or another.

This Morality Tale is not only based upon fact but is unadulterated fact at that.  The lessons it provides are practical prima facie, but like the best of Morality and Fairy Tales, it holds a deeper significance.

It starts during the time of the Millenium when people were collecting dolls and toys under the truly foolish impression that they constituted a good investment for the future.  I never thought that was a good  idea and told customers constantly that the only reason to purchase dolls or plush toys was if the buyer or gift recipient actually LOVED them and furthermore that the idea of keeping a doll or toy in a box forever was obscene.

In the World of the 'Collectible Investment', now blessedly defunct for the most part, the only way a doll or toy keeps its value or actually gains in value is if it is NRFB, aka Never Removed from Box.   What this means is essentially that the buyer takes the box, stuffs it into an attic or closet and forgets about it until values soar a decade or so down the line.  These silly 'collectors' believed somehow that values would increase and that, when the time was ripe, they could cash in all the little surrogate people and animals for cold, hard cash.

In fact, many partents were teaching their children to do that immediately after being given a 'collectible' gift.  Boys and girls were bragging about having made a profit shortly after Christmas by selling the Beanie Babies or Holiday Barbie Dolls they had received as gifts.  Needless to say, I did not bring up my daughter in this fashion.  I taught her rather that dolls and toys should be treated with the same care and regard as real people and animals.  When Freya dropped her doll, she would cry out, 'Heart, are you hurt?' and indeed, performed a very heroic if foolish act of heroism one day when Heart fell into a busy road as we crossed and she ran back instantly to rescue her.  Thankfully, that did not end badly..  I was both horrified and proud.

In any case, I seldom kept any doll or plush toy in its original box, preferring to allow them to lead an existence outside of their dark prisons and believing that, if I liked a doll or plush animal enough to acquire it, I should display it somewhere.  Unfortunately, limitations of space, the bane of any collector, ultimately made my displays more cluttered than I would have wished.  Dust tended to land first on the dolls and animals at the back of the shelves and finally, everywhere.

There were a few dolls that I kept in their original boxes.  One of these was a beautiful Christmas set made my Madame Alexander.  It was a 10" couple who represented 'White Christmas', an iconic American film.  During the Millenium period, all dollmakers tended to go wild in producing more 'limited editions' than usual.  Rather than issuing one or two dolls for Christmas,  theAlexander Doll Company issued almost a dozen.   I therefore kept 'White Christmas' in the box for future display in some unscheduled 21st Century Christmas.

Well, as time passed and I became more disabled physically, the entire business of dragging out Christmas decorations for a month only to e forced to take them all back up the stairs after Twelfh Night became increasingly difficult and exhausting.  I tended to use the same boxes of Ornaments and Decorations again and again rather than unearthing special Decorations from the furthest corners of the storeroom. 

We then moved and I gradually began to move the boxes of Christmas Ornaments and Decorations and various other sundry items from the old house to the new.  A year later, I still have not completed this daunting task, partly because I am disabled and partly because I no longer drive and therefore do not have my own car.  It was only recently that I found the box containing the NRFB 'White Christmas' set and carried it to the new house.

So here is the lesson in this particular Morality Tale.  I opened the box today, fully trusting that the two dolls would be as fresh and new as the day they were made only to discover, to my infinite rage and horror, that somehow the Worms with Wings, my eternal Enemies, had invaded and wrecked havoc with both dolls and the pink tissue paper that allegedly was their protection.

I do not know how the War with the Worms with Wings began but I suspect they were brought into the house in an antique camelhair rug from Kazakhstan.  It was a gorgeous hand crafted piece that still smelled deliciously of wet camel.  (Yes, I love camels and I love the scent of the animal as well!   It is NOT a fetish, however.)  To my sorrow, I found trails of moth holes throughout the rug about six months later and from that point onward, the situation escalated.  I had to chuck out so many beautiful woolen and fur items.  They are filthy little creatures as well and will nest even in items they cannot consume.  It took me years to learn their various stages and to realise that the moment of flight is not the moment of greatest danger.  I could write a book on the topic but I am heartily sick of it all. 

When we moved, I made certain to scrutinise every single item I brought to the new house, even when they were made of materials moths could not devour.  I found evidence of them in wooden bookshelves and books, silk flowers and leather handbags... in fact, nothing was safe from their invasions.

Even so, I never imagined that a box that never had been opened would carry moths inside it.  And yet, I opened 'White Christmas' to find the discarded casings of hundreds of the foul creatures.  The pink tissue paper had been chewed in some places.  The fake fur that lined the velvet festive holiday clothing worn by the dolls was covered with their husks.  I did not see any evidence of life, thank God, but it still was an unpleasant surprise.

I have learned how to clean items that have suffered from these invasions and afterwards, I discovered almost no actual damage had occurred to anything but the box and the tissue paper.  The dolls now are displayed in a window and no one could tell they had endured such a horrid ordeal.

What then is the lesson in this Morality Tale?  It is not a new one for me.  My mother has been guilty of the same error many times, especially where food was concerned.  She would save a wonderful chocolate concoction or cake for a future 'special occasion' only to discover it had become stale by the time she decided to eat it.  I have done the same myself... but here, I was guilty of the Collector's Mistake, even though my reasons were quite different. 

The moral therefore is to enjoy anything that is special or beautiful without attempting to save it for some unspecified special and possibly impossible future occasion.  Furthermore, the Dolls and Toys that are displayed can be protected better than those that are locked away from sight.  Moths do not like objects that  are likely to be moved.  They like to burrow into the cardigan at the very bottom of a stack, to find the darkest corner in a wardrobe, to find a box, like this one, that was never opened.

As far as any more profound significance is concerned, well... you can judge for yourself but I would say that where friendship is concerned, there is no point in waiting for some unspecified future occasion to renew ties.  I have experienced so many deaths of my old friends to know that one never can count upon the future.  I regret that I did not make more of an effort to spend more time with those friends, even if they lived hundreds or even thousands of miles away.  The old adage: 'No time like the present' is very apt.  Carpe diem.  Make Hay while the Sun shines... etc. etc.