Dust of Ages (work in progress)

Well, DDIL and I restarted sorting through more of the voluminous crappola that was removed from my father's house a couple of years ago. There is so much stuff that it's overwhelming.

She asked, in that stating-a-fact manner when you don't want to insult someone so you ask a question, "Didn't your Dad EVER throw ANYTHING away?"

Well, no.

Neither did any of my assorted grandparents, aunts, uncles, greats of various descriptions and probably prior generations with whom I am not familiar all the way back to the flood of Noë.

It's a veritable gallimaufry* of stuffage.

The Herd brought down about 15 boxes and then bugged out, leaving us Ladies to have at it.

A short list of, um, "interesting finds:**

1. An antique hernia truss. It's about 8 inches wide, made of thick leather and has straps with buckles on both sides. Not my idea of casual wear. Especially not in summer.
2. A tall felt-lined leather case with a 3 piece metal something-or-other in it and room for two other somethings, to boot. DDIL thinks it may be a really old wine case. That's the only suggestion made so far so I think I'll accept that as identification. I sure don't know what it is.
3. Ten years, or more, of John Thompson and Daily Dozen piano lesson books. The very early ones have cute gnome-like creatures all named after various musical notes, sharps, flats, clefs and so forth. Nowadays they would be considered too frightening for kids but not back in the days when people didn't worry too much about hurting their kidlets delicate psyches. I'd bet my eye teeth my mother never knew what a "psyche" was.
   
4. An original Twister Game, Dating Game, Video Village and Mousetrap. All complete and in their boxes. Anyone wanna play a game that is designed to humiliate players and contribute to back pain? Maybe eBay.....
   
5. A stuffed original Mountain Dew man from the late '60s. I don't know where the hell that came from. It's about 2 feet tall and un-p.c. as all get out.
6. Various and sundry el-dumbo religious tracts, books and what-all. Once again... ???????
7. The remains of my mother's wedding gown. She remade it into her Eastern Star ceremonial gown but kept the odds and ends left over. Maybe she thought it would make good parachutes for munchkins or something.
8. Several extremely ratty stuffed animals. One was some kind of oooogly Furby-looking thing that is about a foot tall, has a snout and is bright pink. I can't imagine having that anywhere in a bedroom. It'd give Dracula nightmares.
9. Stenographer notebooks full of school assignments and a few with my high school attempts at learning shorthand. I flunked Office Skills four years in a row, assisted by an inability to type, take dictation or master shorthand. I'd have been better off in shop.
10. Boxes and boxes and boxes and boxes of stamps. We haven't brought all of those down yet. I don't have a clue as to how many individual stamps my Dad had. There's a LOT of them. By a lot I mean, like in the thousands. I don't even know of any philatelists within 100 miles so I'm not sure what I will do with the things.
11. Two WWII-era Army stretchers. Like you see loaded on the jeeps on M*A*S*H*, you know? I have no idea what I will do with those, either. Maybe I should call the armory and ask if they want a couple of additions to their collection?
12. A very nice copy of the New York Herald from April 15, 1865 about Lincoln' assassination. And some interesting information concerning Jeff Davis' speech on the fall of Charlotte. (i think.)
13. A Victorian-era skirtbox with lots of 1940s, '502 and '60s toys. *sigh*
14. Christmas decorations up the wazoo. There's more of those around, too. I am planning on donating 75% of them to the women's shelter.
15. Oh, yeah. I forgot to mention Dad's fondness for cocktail napkins and match books. We have a shit-can load of those.

So. We now have one large pile for the landfill. One large pile for donation. One medium size pile for eBay.

Indefatigable DDIL is coming back next weekend to "finish everything up." I didn't wish to deter her by telling her that what we got through yesterday is only a fractional amount of what's waiting.*** We have a large attic and, well, it's pretty close to full.

I have forgotten how many dumpsters we filled when we emptied Dad's house. I know we sent truckloads of stuff to the shelter, more truckloads to people in need of furniture and suchlike, a couple of truckloads to a friend who runs and unofficial keep-it-all farm. He finds people that need stuff and gives it away to them.

It's telling that we all worked on that house for days. And days. Sis and Liz came up for three days and Sis, although stout of heart, doesn't want anything more to do with any of this stuff. I can't say I blame her.

Having someone help sort all of this makes it easier for me to decide what to do with stuff, too. I have a regrettable predilection for keeping things on the off-chance that I might need it next week. The moss-covered three-handled family grudunza that I got rid of last week is likely to be vital to the survival of the Free World week after next, you know. I keep waiting for something like that to happen but, oddly enough, it doesn't seem to.

There's also the matter of family photos. A bunch of boxes of slides. 8 and 35 mm film reels, negatives and various other bits and pieces. I'm gradually sorting through the photos but don't have any idea what the dickens to do with the other stuff. I would sort of like to have the film dubbed to dvd but it's frightfully expensive and the results would likely be embarrassing for me, my offspring and all living friends and relatives. Dad had this weakness for hauling the video equipment out at the drop of a hat.**** Thus, the films. We still have the projector and screen but, on my honor, I have no intention of setting that all up and starting a movie night with popcorn, ice cream and myself 45 years and more ago.

One real embarrassment would be the fact that I was always skinny as a rail and homely to boot. Another deterrent? My Mom really wanted a proper daughter so she always stuffed me into frilly pink dresses, curled my hair and shoved my feet into patent-leather mary janes. In white, lace-trimmed anklets, forsooth.# This never worked very well as I was likely to get in a fist fight with a cousin, fall out of a tree, find any oil-based paint cans within 50 miles, jump from the garage roof with a pillowcase for a 'chute just to see if it would work, or some other disastrous event that spelled the end of the frilly dress. (Poor Mom, all she wanted was a nice girly-girl who liked dressing up, someone who liked having long curled hair and fingernails, sort of like my friend Denise. Instead, she got me. *sigh* That answers the question as to why my mother looks so cranky in formal photos.) She had high hopes when my first child turned out to be female but was destined to be disappointed, yet again.##




*Isn't that a marvelous word? Gallimaufry:
1. a hodgepodge; jumble; confused medley.

My thanks to dictionary.com.

** This is by no means an exhaustive list.
***If she lets DS1 know what's up I hope he keeps his mouth shut.
**** I don't recall the appearance of lights, film and a movie camera precipitating a mass exodus of family members from holiday celebrations but I was a kid and wasn't paying attention.

# Maybe if everyone asks nicely I'll scan a photo of one of those outfits and put it up for the purpose of promoting general merriment and hilarity. I have quite a few of them. One particularly hideous example is an Easter outfit that I remember with horror although it's been more than 40 years since I saw it last. That one includes, the anklets fixation, white gloves, a hat, curled hair, patent mary janes and That Kewt Suit. Gawd. Mom thought it was just the cat's pajamas. I felt like a psychedelic barber pole.
## She was always proud as punch of Once, even though dear daughter was likely as not to be scraped, banged, bruised, blackened, burned or what-not. She did wear some frilly teensy baby clothes that were shower gifts and gramma, an optimist to the end, thought that was a good sign. When Once started showing a marked propensity for hoydenism, the end of frills was in sight.