"Let's see, mom said they were out here somewhere. Aha! There they are! Nope, that's not them! I swear, we have entirely too much junk, we need to make a dump run," Ryan said, while searching in vain for his boots. "Why do we need all of this crap anyway!?" He and a friend had planned on spending the day hunting and shooting in the woods behind our house and he had spent the better half of the morning searching for his outdoor gear. "I'm telling you, Nanny and Papaw have nothing on you and mom!" Finally, he did find his boots, and I stood silently, staring at the mountain of junk that cluttered our garage. By my estimation, every single item could possibly be of use to me one day. For example, there are a multitude of uses for a twelve year old swimming pool pump. I could use it to pump water to my garden. Of course, for the last twelve years, I've been using the garden hose to water the garden, but it's nice to know that I have a pump just in case. I feel certain that I could find a good use for several dry rotted rafts that haven't been used in nearly a decade, but like the pump, it's nice to know they're there just in case. The karaoke machine, that had once entertained Sidney when she was a small girl sat patiently in the corner, practically begging me to plug it in and break into song. Ryan stared at me, while I stared at my junk, shook his head and then disappeared from the garage.
To be honest, I probably do have entirely too much stuff sitting around my shop, garage and equipment shed. But, unlike my father, most of the things I have could possibly be of some use one day. My dad? Not so much. The man saves everything, and I do mean everything. My mother said that dad, who was born during the Great Depression, simply couldn't throw things away since during his childhood, nearly everything had a purpose. Recently, we visited my parents and mom and I were sent to the garage to attempt to locate something for my father. It was an exercise in futility. "You have to understand, that when he was a boy during the 30's and 40's everyone was poor. People just couldn't throw anything away because they couldn't afford to replace it." she said, as she had time and time again.
"I understand what you're saying, but cat food cans? Why do we need a pile of empty cat food cans?" I said, staring at the little towers of tin cans stacked on his workbench in the garage.
She stared at the cans, which were leaning slightly to one side and said, "Well, you do have a point, but if he... I have no idea, honestly."
"And this box full of old, empty oil containers? Really?" I continued. "Great Depression or not, this is some sort of hoarding disorder."
My mother turned her head to one side and looked silently at the box of Havoline, Quaker State, and Valvoline containers sitting on a shelf below the workbench. I assumed she was either attempting to count the containers, or was trying to concoct a reasonable response to my question. "I have no idea," she finally answered. "Well, there are people out there who plan for hard times. I think they call them preppers or something like that. I saw it on television the other day. People store things so in the event that something bad happens, they have plenty to get them through to better times."
"Oh, ok. I get it. Now I feel better. It's very comforting to know that in the event of a zombie apocalypse or perhaps a nuclear war, we'll always have a place to come for cat food cans and empty oil containers. Thank God for empty milk jugs as well!" A smile crept across her face and then she laughed. "I'm also thankful for those old orange juice containers."
"Do you remember what we were looking for in the first place?" mom asked, still giggling.
"No, I don't. I doubt we'd find it anyway. Look, if you want, I'd be more than happy to drive my truck out one day and haul some of this stuff away," I replied, still amazed at what I was staring at.
What I was really thinking was that one day after mom and dad had departed the Earth, my brother, sister and I would be responsible for sorting through all of the treasures they'd accumulated over the years. I also was thinking about how some people I know inherit massive fortunes, real estate, etc. Sometimes, major family feuds ensue due to someone feeling slighted or didn't receive what they thought was rightfully theirs. Not us. There may be some squabbling, but it would only be because the sibling who inherited the most would most likely be the one feeling slighted. I doubt seriously that my brother or sister have designs on hauling away empty pet food containers and milk jugs. If so, I can imagine the confrontation sounding something like this, "That's it, we'll just have to let the judge sort this one out! You both know that I've always wanted dad's collection of tin, bent up pie pans! You can have the milk jugs, but the pie pans are mine!" one of us could say.
"Oh hell no! I want the pie pans, you can have the shoe boxes... and the Montgomery Ward catalogs!" another would say.
"Figures, I get the shoe boxes and she gets the cat food cans! Fine! But everyone knows that I've always cherished the warped Cool Whip containers! Hands off, they're mine!"
My mom and I didn't find what we were looking for. Eventually, we returned home and I stared at my own collection of useless junk. "Dad, lets make a dump run," Ryan said as we slid out of the car.
"Maybe some day. Son, when I grew up in the 70's, we didn't have much money. So, we didn't throw much away because..."
