ANOTHER DAY. ANOTHER TIME.

                                              

In the top of my storage garage is an attic space. There are stairs going up there and for many years my wife used it to tuck away all of those things she just couldn’t part with but actually had no use for any more. As I have gotten older, it has been my quest to get rid of stuff I no longer use. So the other day I went up there and started sorting through things. A long and tedious process because there are things up there nobody wants or needs, but on the other hand there are some things up there that might still be useful to someone. Then there are things up there I do need and I didn’t even know I had. There are things too that make you sit down and smile and things that bring tears to your eyes, remembering another time and another place.

I know from experience my kids, who are now in their middle age, don’t want or need any of it. They have more junk of their own then they know what to do with. So to start with I am making three piles. Stuff to continue keeping because I can’t part with it and it would be a sacrilege to throw it away. Stuff for the trip to the landfill and things that the Goodwill store can use. I thought about a garage sale but it’s just too much work. They say one mans junk is another mans treasure and years ago people were much more willing to use somebody else’s castaways until you could afford something better. But speaking for my own grandchildren, who in some cases are just starting out keeping house, not so much anymore.

As a kid growing up in a poor family, I had a rich aunt who would send her sons used clothing down to our house. He lived in another town so I never minded. Her son and I were the same age but he was bigger then me. So mom would cut things down and make them fit for me and my sibling brother or I would wait a couple of years until I grew into them but I was always happy to get them. Shoes were a problem because my feet stayed small and some times I would stuff the toes with paper just to fill them out. I did put my foot down—no pun intended--- and refuse to wear some of them because I suspected I looked like Emmet Kelly, the Ringling Brothers clown. There is pride and there is foolish pride and I had a little of both.

My father had an old two-wheel trailer he kept in back of the house and when things wore out, or broke, he would just throw them in the trailer. When it got full we would go out to the town dump which was always a treat because we would bring dads 22 rifle along and shoot rats. I can see some of you squirming in your seats right now with a sick look on your faces but you had to be there. The biggest problem was trying to keep dad from filling the trailer back up with somebody else’s junk. One other thing that today’s kids would have a rough time with, was mealtime at our house. There were always lots of veggies because mom grew her own and when it came to meat our mom invented the petite cut. Leftovers just got recycled into the next meal and I remember asking mom. What is this?  She would just smile and say “Oh a little of this and a little of that.” Dad would scowl at you and say, “Eat it and shut up.” Sometimes he would give you the old story about kids in India starving. I always wanted to say, “Send this over to India. I hate the thought of anyone starving.” My better judgment said, “Eat it and shut up.”