Conservative. Idaho. Software engineer. Historian. Trying to prevent Idiocracy from becoming a documentary.
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"And we know that all things work together for good to them that love God, to them who are the called according to his purpose." -- Rom. 8:28
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Friday, April 8, 2016
A Good Friend Passed In His Sleep Wednesday Night
The one dying of colon cancer. Went to sleep; never woke up. Headed down next week to try and help his widow dispose of the Michael Bloomberg Horror Museum of Guns, a couple tons of aviation books, and many tons of junk.
Yes, that's the sad and dreary end to a fullfilled life. Your friends, your family, are left behind to "dispose" of "Junk". Of course, your friend didn't necessarily consider it "junk". My bet is that he would have wanted to have it assumed as valuable property by friends and family who would cherish the possessions as he did.
But that won't happen. Having been a part of a few "clean out Aunt Rosie's House So We Can Sell it" operations, I'm familiar with the gloominess of the function.
When my Great Aunt Whatshername died, after living with her sister for 40 years (who preceded her in death), there were photo albums with picture of people nobody knew. I kept them, and when I die my children will say WTF? and trash them. I accept that. But for a few decades these un-named ancestors had a home.
But Great Aunt Whatshername had a couple of honest-to-God Cast Iron pans, and a skillet. I try to use them from time to time, even though it's an investment of MY precious time to clean them and 'season' them again.
I like to think that Great Aunt Whatshername is looking down (protestent heaven, go figure) and smiling every time I fry an egg or a mess of rice or a pork chop, and nodding her head because "yes, that's what they were made for".
Either that, or they would just rust away in the drawer under the oven, and THAT would be a sin.
Find something that you can and will use. Save it. Use it. Honor the family member who thought it was necessary to their daily bread.
It's not always convenient, but .. dammmit its FAMILY!
It wasn't a very fulfilled life. He absolutely HATED his parents, and that had a lot to do with his hoarding and depression. Besides the vast swarm of guns (many in new in box shape), there is an Atlas lathe in the hangar...somewhere. The rest of it is supplies for model aircraft building, a hobby he enjoyed as a teenager and planned to get back into after he retired, but colon cancer took over his life instead.
ReplyDeleteYes, that's the sad and dreary end to a fullfilled life. Your friends, your family, are left behind to "dispose" of "Junk". Of course, your friend didn't necessarily consider it "junk". My bet is that he would have wanted to have it assumed as valuable property by friends and family who would cherish the possessions as he did.
But that won't happen. Having been a part of a few "clean out Aunt Rosie's House So We Can Sell it" operations, I'm familiar with the gloominess of the function.
When my Great Aunt Whatshername died, after living with her sister for 40 years (who preceded her in death), there were photo albums with picture of people nobody knew. I kept them, and when I die my children will say WTF? and trash them. I accept that. But for a few decades these un-named ancestors had a home.
But Great Aunt Whatshername had a couple of honest-to-God Cast Iron pans, and a skillet. I try to use them from time to time, even though it's an investment of MY precious time to clean them and 'season' them again.
I like to think that Great Aunt Whatshername is looking down (protestent heaven, go figure) and smiling every time I fry an egg or a mess of rice or a pork chop, and nodding her head because "yes, that's what they were made for".
Either that, or they would just rust away in the drawer under the oven, and THAT would be a sin.
Find something that you can and will use. Save it. Use it. Honor the family member who thought it was necessary to their daily bread.
It's not always convenient, but .. dammmit its FAMILY!
It wasn't a very fulfilled life. He absolutely HATED his parents, and that had a lot to do with his hoarding and depression. Besides the vast swarm of guns (many in new in box shape), there is an Atlas lathe in the hangar...somewhere. The rest of it is supplies for model aircraft building, a hobby he enjoyed as a teenager and planned to get back into after he retired, but colon cancer took over his life instead.
ReplyDeleteWe found a lot of neat old tools cleaning out my Grandfather's garage that went into my tool boxes, and there will be more when my Dad goes.
ReplyDelete