Goodbye, "Hare-ible" Portrait

 So before the Plague, Wifey hired some decorators, and they set about telling her what colors to paint, and what tchokches and paintings get to stay, and which to go. 

It seems to me that much of what they did was replace comfortable, clunky furniture with comically uncomfortable, stylish stuff, but what do I know? Our dining room chairs, heavy wood with soft cushions, are now apparently in the Nicaragua home of our painter Errico, along with a huge oak wall unit I called "The Great Wall of Wifey." The new one is laminate, with a workspace for me that barely fits my bulk -- but as the great song "When A Man Loves A Woman" teaches, if she says something gotta be, well, then he does it.

But anyway, after a long delay caused by the fact that the decorators are very busy, one of them was here last week to tell Wifey more stuff to toss. And one of the pieces has a funny history: a portrait of my late mother, along with the Ds.

It dates back to the late 90s. I was making serious money, and like many arrivistes, started spending on stuff I never would have dreamed. Our friends Rob and Becky, now divorced and Rob no longer a friend on account of he's a stupid idiot who exposed us all to Covid, were ALREADY pretty rich. Rob's Dad started a successful insurance business, and Rob was set up -- later to sell it for a small amount because, you know rich Dad and son stories...

But they had found a portrait artist named David Shore, who was a favorite of the Pinecrest and East Kendall set. He would take a picture of your family and use pointillism to create an "heirloom." He did one of Rob and Becky and their kids, and even added a dog who had died months before.

David was a nice guy -- he even took Rob and me out on his boat -- to thank Rob for referring me, and me for referring someone else. But the truth was -- he was no Rembrandt, even by Kendall standards.

He took Wifey, the Ds, and me to Mathesson Hammock for our photo, and then did the painting. It was ok, but had glaring flaws -- Wifey's hair is windblown, but not the Ds. Still, we proudly hung the work, which cost upwards of $1000.00, real money to us in those days, and when we moved to our new house, it came along. Somehow it survived the Decorators' cut, albeit in a more hidden alcove than the prominent Family Room spot it used to live in.

But back to the 90s. I was so smitten with our ability to create heirlooms, I decided to surprise my Mom. I got a picture of her, and asked David to create a smaller portrait of her, along with the Ds. Her birthday was approaching, maybe her 75th, and I thought it would be a lovely gift. I still remember paying $650 for the project, and David delivered.

Wifey, the Ds and I went to Delray to fetch my Mom for dinner, and we were so thrilled. I told her we had a surprise gift, and set up the artwork on her table, covered by a sheet, and unveiled it like at a gallery. We smiled, awaiting her expected "Oh David -- thank you so much -- I LOVE it."

Instead, her expression turned to horror. I might just as well have shown her a pornographic picture of her, or maybe something out of a Brian DePalma movie. "Oh my G-d! That is TERRIBLE. The WORST PICTURE OF ME I HAVE EVER SEEN! TAKE IT OUT NOW!!!!!!"

At first, I thought she was kidding, but she was dead serious. Mom was a beautiful woman, and like many beautiful women, somewhat vain. She was in her 70s, and I guess the portrait reflected that. Plus, one of her boobs was missing (actually hidden by one of the Ds's arms). But her reaction was something I'll never forget.

Wifey and I found it hilarious, and we complied -- taking the David Shore masterpiece away and putting it back in our minivan. We took her to dinner, and she kept bringing it up -- like she had seen a gruesome car wreck on the highway. "I hope you didn't pay much for that piece of shit -- it is the worst thing I have EVER seen!" Yes, Mom, we got the message -- and don't worry what we had paid.

We brought the offending thing home, and hung it anyway. Mom, once she had visited the upstairs of Villa Wifey, would never traverse the stairs again, so we placed the picture on a landing of the stairway. And it sat there for nearly 20 years, making me chuckle to myself whenever I went up the stairs.

Last night Wifey told me the news. It had to go -- unless, of course, I had strong feelings. I did not. I thought about sending it to my California sister, but then thought better of it. She wasn't part of the family joke, and really she would have no reason to keep it -- she is decluttering, anyway.

So Wifey and I will gather later this evening, after I return from the Dolphins game with Mike and Chris. We will say a few words over the green trash container, as I consign the funny portrait to Mt. Trashmore in South Miami Dade -- the tallest point in the County.

But -- like most stuff -- the value was in the tale -- not the thing. I never forget that lesson.