Hazel and Her Treasures

Hazel and Her Treasure

   Hazel looked at the lovely mountain before her - a mountain of her own making.  She pondered the organization of an extensive collection of beautifully balanced treasures.  For years, Hazel Acton had brought furniture, clothing, reading material, bric-a-brac and other unique finds to her small storage space.  Some had been hiding in plain sight at garage sales and antique stores.  Not a small number of items had come from the side of the road, where another’s trash became her treasure.  Many had come from estate sales.  She tried to stay up to date on such sales within a 25 mile radius of her home.  Her most prized possessions came through friends and acquaintances.

   Stacks of chairs lined one wall of the storage room.  There was a large solid walnut bookcase on the opposite wall that held the vintage magazines she’d amassed. Fortune, Life, The Wide World all the titles made her skin tingle.  They might be worth hundreds, maybe thousands.  Next to the bookcase were three display cabinets, all amazing finds, that were chock full of figurines, matching salt and pepper sets, and a plethora of one-of-a-kind treasures that could be displayed on a mantle or shelf.

   And in the middle were the tables.  One sturdy folding table held old records, thick and heavy, that felt so right in her hands.  A wooden dining table was laden with glassware; sets of decades old dessert plates with matching cups, juice glasses in an assortment of styles, green and clear glass serving dishes.   Still another darling kitchenette table held various dish sets complete with gravy boats and creamers.  Toward the back she could glimpse the long table stacked with clothing; some vintage, some just gently used.   Under the tables were stacks of see-through storage bins filled with quilts, crocheted throws, skeins of yarn, and bolts of fabric.  Hazel knew someday she would be giving these as gifts, or creating her own quilts and throws. 

   But even farther toward the opposite wall of the unit were her friends, as she liked to call them. Hazel saw them as figures that could showcase clothing and jewelry.  She changed the clothing frequently, sometimes adding fur coats or hats to the tops of her friends. She treasured these friends most of all.

  Riches. That’s what Hazel saw when she lifted the garage-like door of the unit.  Her treasure trove of acquisitions gave her so much joy that, even though she’d opened this door every week for years, her eyes were wet with tears.  

   Last year, a new chum Hazel had met at the Senior Center exercise class had come to the storage unit with her.   Beatrice, “Bea,” was a recent widow.  Bea had no children, no siblings..”the only child of an only child” she’d told Hazel the first time they’d gone for coffee after class.  Hazel loved meeting new people.  She loved the idea of getting to know them, developing relationships that became lasting.  Not everyone new acquaintance became a good buddy, but even so, Hazel enjoyed the challenge of developing mutual understanding and trust.  

   Bea and Hazel had become close over several months. Bea had confided that she was fighting a losing battle with COPD.  Hazel  admired Bea’s determination to exercise every Tuesday and Thursday.  Bea was often out of breath and exhausted after class, but a sit-down and a coffee perked her right up.  At least it had done so for the first dozen weeks.  As time went on, Bea was only able to endure only a few minutes of class before she was so winded and weak she could not finish the exercises.  Hazel felt so sympathetic to Bea.  She wanted to be a good friend.  She wanted to give Bea a little joy.  

   That’s how Hazel and Bea had ended up at Hazel’s storage unit.  Hazel was so pleased at first to hear Bea’s little gasp of wonder at the abundance of riches revealed when Hazel lifted the door of the unit.  

   “How…”  Bea was practically speechless.  “How long did it take you to collect so much stuff?”

   Hazel bristled a bit at the use of the word “stuff” to describe her carefully curated collection. 

   “I’ve been judicious with my choices,” Hazel huffed.  “These items are not stuff.  They are my greatest treasures.  They give me joy.”   Hazel looked at Bea.  For the first time, it was not a look of kindness.  For the first time, it was a calculated look.

   “Oh, I’m sorry if I offended you,” Bea was chuckling.  “It’s just that I’ve been trying to get rid of things and you’ve been adding more.  Don’t you want to rid yourself of all the possessions that weigh you down?  Aren’t you concerned that your family will have to dispose of what’s here after your death.”  She patted Hazel’s shoulder.  “We’re not getting any younger dear.”

   “Oh I know, dear,” Hazel replied. “The brevity of life is something I think about almost every day.”  Hazel managed to smile as she urged Bea farther into the storage room.  “Maybe you’ll enjoy my ‘friends’ as I like to call them.  Let me show you.”  She steered Bea toward the back of the unit.

   When Hazel and Bea had gotten closer to Hazel’s pride and joy, Bea had indeed been rendered completely speechless.  She had turned to Hazel looking wide-eyed with stupefied astonishment.  

*********

   Since Bea’s visit, Hazel had hesitated to bring any other visitors to her storage unit.  The experience had left her a bit leery of sharing her treasure trove of possessions with just anybody.  But the day came when Hazel thought it best to show her accumulated riches to her daughter, Darlene.

   Darlene had long been curious to find out what her mother kept in the ten by ten room that was costing a pretty penny to rent.  The reality fairly took her breath away.  Darlene saw dollar signs, but only as it pertained to the enormous amount of money Hazel had so far doled out for the junk inside. 

   Mother croaked out an agonized “Mother!” before her voice left her and she managed to only open and close her mouth. Like a fish out of water, Darlene’s lungs couldn’t seem to keep up with her need for oxygen. She was aghast, appalled, apoplectic - the alliteration seemed to calm her - agitated, angry, anguished.  Darlene’s breathing was evening out.  

   Hazel, on the other hand, was looking at her daughter with what could only be described as curious confusion.  Hazel felt only pride as she gazed upon the vast holdings within the small room.  She felt that she’d done a great job organizing.  Organizing was a skill she’d developed and perfected.  

   Darlene, however, could not make sense of what she saw now, and what she knew of her mother’s always tidy three bedroom ranch.  Hazel lived an almost spartan life.  A few prints on the walls, bare floors, limited seating in the common areas.  The kitchen in the house Darlene had called home for the first 18 years of her life was always spotless, nothing on the counters, and all the wooden cabinet doors gleamed with polish.  To know her mother’s habits at home, and then see this…this…monstrosity was beyond Darlene’s ability to understand.  She had no words.

   Hazel gathered herself from her initial consternation and reassured her daughter.  “I have gathered and organized everything in this room over many years.  Of course, some of them are treasures only to me, but most of the items in this storage space are valuable collectables.  When I’m gone, you can sell them and make a pretty penny.”          

   Darlene took another look, and realized her mother might be right.  She could see now that there were some vintage clothes, what looked to be expensive glassware, and books and magazines that Darlene realized she’d have to examine more closely.  She had to admit her mother had organized everything very well.  

   “I’ll admit you’ve kept everything in perfect order,” Darlene spoke at last. “I can see what you mean about being able to sell when the time comes.”  Darlene continued to survey the tightly packed room.  What she saw at the back of the unit caught her eye.

   “Mother, what are those at the back?  Are they store mannequins?

   Hazel smiled and put her hand on Darlene’s back.  “Come with me and see.”

   Mother and daughter carefully made their way to the back of the storage room.  

   “Oh, mom!” Darlene was all a-quiver with incredulity.  “These are not just any mannequins!  They are so….lifelike!” 

  Hazel smiled. “Let me introduce you to my ‘friends’ as I call them.”  She pointed to the first figure.  “This is Charles.” Hazel gazed proudly at the tall male mannequin with thinning gray hair.  Darlene thought ‘Charles’ looked a bit surprised. The figure had a hint of athleticism to it.  

   Hazel continued.  “I think he looks dashing in these wool trousers, matching vest and white shirt, don’t you?  See how I’ve rolled up the sleeves so he looks like he’s getting ready to dive into some project?”  Darlene nodded.  “I tend to change their outfits every now and then, for some variety.”

   “Next,” Hazel continued, “is one I call ‘Diane.’  I’ve tried to figure out what looks best on her.  Her olive skin makes it harder to find just the right colors.  She’s a little skinny, and her hair is almost white, but her facial structure is so classic, don’t you think?”

   Darlene agreed.  The dummy looked stunning in a red dress with matching gloves and hat.  She interrupted her mother’s ‘introductions;’ “Mom, where did you find these? And how did you decide on names?”

   Hazel laughed and wagged her finger at her daughter.  “I can’t reveal my secrets.  Suffice to say I’ve picked them up here and there.”  Hazel added,  “The names?  Well, they just seemed to fit.” 

   There were ten mannequins in all, and Darlene was relieved when they were down to the last dummy. Tired as she was from listening to the introductions, she was indeed fascinated by the uniqueness of each figure in turn.

   “Here’s my latest,” Hazel said at last.  “I’ve really only tried one outfit on this one.  I’m still trying to decide what might be best.”  The final mannequin, a woman’s figure, was dressed simply in workout gear.  She looked like she’d just come from the gym.

   “What did you name this one?” Darlene asked her mother.

   “Oh.  Beatrice.  But I just call her Bea.”