Uncle Mamo

Dearest Rachel –

I was planning to make this an epilogue to an earlier letter to you, but that one started to get out of hand, so I decided to create this as a separate one instead. Who knows? Maybe I lost the original thread when I walked away from it for a few hours.

Anyway, here I am a couple days later, picking it back up again… I wonder if either of us will be able to recognize it at this point.

You see, I’ve found myself wondering if I’m trying to paper over the situation with a form of retail therapy; buying stuff in order to distract myself from the sense of emptiness left by your absence. It wouldn’t ordinarily cross my mind, aside from the fact that I’ve dealing with several rather extravagant items more or less at the same time. Even taken on an individual basis, they wouldn’t be particularly objectionable (indeed, I’ve been pleasantly surprised to receive approval regarding each of them when I’ve discussed my plans with people whose advice I consider worth heeding, so it’s not as if I haven’t already been aware of the less-than-stellar optics of these transactions), but coming on each other’s heels as they are, they start to look… problematic.

I’ll start with the most major (and, the most distant, in terms of actual acquisition); the vehicle. Upon sending my deposit, and writing you about it, I told Lars about my latest hare-brained plan, which amused him considerably; among other things, he’s quite the Europhile, and offered to go with me to Rosenthal (or at the very least, to contact friends he knows in the area) to help me pick it up personally once it became available for me to do so. He even suggested that, if I were to drive it to the port at, say, Hamburg, and arrange for it to be transported overseas to… wherever in the States I could pick it up from and bring it home, I could already declare it as a ‘used’ vehicle, based on the milage incurred to get it to the port, thus reducing its declared value and the duties on shipment. I’m not entirely sure he was kidding about any of this, although he could just as easily have been about any and all of it as well.

What he was not kidding me about, when we met again the following week, was that he’d informed his two nephews about me; apparently, now I’m known to them as “the guy with the Twike,” despite being at least two years away from actually having one in my possession. They’re also clamoring for a ride in it at some point, evidently… which rather suggests I ought not back down from this plan at this point (although Lars insisted that what they might want should have no bearing on whether I choose to go through with this or not).

I have, however, spoken to our broker about this purchase, and while this company has not been on his radar (which is understandable, given that it’s a private company, with a very limited manufacturing run, and virtually no presence in the States, let alone something one could actually invest in), he found my plans intriguing in their own right, and suggested that, if I was going through with this, I should pay down as much of the price now, as the euro is likely to remain strong (and get stronger) against the dollar between now and then. If I wait until production in a couple years, I may end up having to fork over considerably more in the way of dollars by then. Granted, that would probably apply to any major purchase these days, given the rate of inflation (which, now that I think about it, would offset everything I’m doing in terms of spending right now, but who knows?), but at least in this case, paying ahead would actually mitigate the potential losses down the road.

So yeah, I’ve sent over a considerable amount of the anticipated purchase price this week. Not all of it, as the bank puts an upper limit on the amount of money that can be sent internationally at any one time. But given that I’m not required to fork over so much money to the manufacturer right now, this probably puts me at the front of the (assembly) line. Meanwhile, I really should be concerning myself more with getting Daniel a new set of wheels, as I think he’d be better off with something more suited to him, rather than your old cast-off, which probably should just be kept in storage as a memento, rather than driven into the ground.

And on the subject of mementos, I got a call from Tim late last week. After selecting what I considered to be a suitable band, and dropping off your diamond with him to prepare, he followed up with a quote on various prices, depending on the purity of gold I wanted in the band. You might have noticed that the catalog entry also offered options for platinum bands, and I asked him about those options, to which he gave a chuckle. He acknowledged that, while platinum would require less maintenance (there is no such thing as ‘white’ gold, he said – it’s an alloy of gold, nickel and a thin sheen of rhodium to give it that shiny look, which needs to be polished and recoated every five years or so to keep it from looking tarnished), the difference in appearance would be essentially invisible to all but the best-trained professional eyes. And while a platinum ring would be heavier and more solid than any gold alloy, the price variance more than offsets any supposed advantages, even in his own opinion. I took his advice, and selected the highest grade of gold band accordingly. So now I have that to look forward to seeing (and paying for).

And then there’s the trip, which is mostly paid for already, aside from still having to select shore excursions for the last two legs of the journey – it’s interesting how a ‘world cruise’ program got broken up into four separate sections, and then those were broken down further into multiple separate two-week trips (give or take) for greater mass consumption. Guess the grand plan didn’t turn out so well for RCL as they had hoped for. I wonder if this is going to result in something of a caste system aboard the ship, with the full-termers looking down upon us quarter-leggers, even as we resolve to not get too attached to those aboard for just a couple weeks apiece. I certainly hope not, but you never know; I may still attend whatever singles’ mixers they have every couple of weeks, though.

Between the confluence of all these expenditures happening at once, I find myself wondering if I haven’t, at least for now, attempted to let a ‘life of extravagance’ compensate for the ‘days like this’ that I’ve lost with your departure – and whether it’s appropriate or proper for me to do so.

I’m reminded a bit of title character from the novel (although I suppose both of us would be more familiar with Rosalind Russell’s portrayal in the film) Auntie Mame. She was, after all, a ‘jet-setter’ before that concept was strictly a thing. Add the loss of her own husband in the snows of the Matterhorn (which, while sounding more glamorous than a snow hill in Wisconsin, doesn’t make it any nicer or easier to deal with), and the fact that she continued to soldier on despite the setbacks she faced, and you might see why it comes to mind.

On the other hand, Mame was decidedly a socialite, which is a persona I’ve never attempted, nor would I be comfortable with. And as worthy as her motto might be – “Life is a banquet, and most poor suckers are starving to death!” – it sounds so much more like you than me, especially now that I’m in the midst of trying to cut down on my consumption. Granted, that’s taking her exhortation a little too literally; but if I think in terms of the metaphor behind it, I’m too likely to concern myself with whether I’m simply trying to gorge myself to get my mind off of certain things. In summary, I suppose that I’m a long way from becoming her spear counterpart – an Uncle Mamo, if you will – unless you count the image I apparently have in the minds of Lars’ nephews. I’m not sure if that a good or bad thing.

In any event, honey, keep an eye on me, and wish me luck. I’m going to need it.