I learned that my stuff was lost while en route to see my great-aunt. No, I wasn’t talking on a cell phone while driving a car like 99.9% of America. I was the passenger.
My sister, on the other hand, operates her car like so:
Sit down, start engine, close door, shift into reverse, back up, speed dial, brake, look both ways, talk, drive.
I tease her because I love her. Also because I whipped her butt racing motorcycles (at the arcade) – even though we were sitting on the motorcycles, speeding, and leaning while zooming around on the screen it wasn’t like real driving for her without a cell phone.
I hadn’t seen my great aunt in a long time. We talked like we always do about my grandfather and all the stuff he had packed in his garages and basement. He was locally famous for collecting and held annual garage sales that were HUGE. Around April and May people would stop by his house to ask him, “When are you having your garage sale this year?” They wanted to know before they submitted their vacation requests.
My aunt stayed in one of his houses when Grandpa lived in Florida and she told of all the things she lost just because he moved things around. “There are things down in that basement that I haven’t found in years.”
As she started to mention her losses it reminded me of our things in storage. I initially thought of the photos and ‘the big stuff’ (antiques or furniture). She said, “I had a set of white bone china dishes.” And I remembered my great-grandma’s dishes.
She went on, “There were Christmas ornaments, boxes of them. Some just plain old bulbs, some blown glass, all kinds of decorations.” And I remembered my Christmas ornaments. A picture of my 3 year old self standing in front of a Christmas tree, glued onto a piece of construction paper and my mother’s Christmas village that she shaped and painted by hand.
We talked for half an hour about our memories of things lost. And every item she mentioned I had the same (or similar) loss. It was heartbreaking for me. And she… laughed.
She told me, “Believe me. You will laugh about this one day. You really will. I know you will.”
The shared misery (and source of laughter) was only a small part of our visit. My aunt Dorothy is a strong woman. She raised her daughter and four grandchildren. In her late eighties, she still baby-sits her great-grandchildren. This year she battled cancer (and won) and she also lost a grandson to a car accident.
Loss of loved ones and loss of health puts losing “stuff” in perspective. Overall the best part of the visit was her memories of family history. I never tire of hearing the stories of my Grandfather’s childhood.
My aunt is pictured above with my sis (aka 'speedy' on the right) and me. She’s wise, smart, and she made me laugh on a day when we both shared our sadness.
My sister, on the other hand, operates her car like so:
Sit down, start engine, close door, shift into reverse, back up, speed dial, brake, look both ways, talk, drive.
I tease her because I love her. Also because I whipped her butt racing motorcycles (at the arcade) – even though we were sitting on the motorcycles, speeding, and leaning while zooming around on the screen it wasn’t like real driving for her without a cell phone.
I hadn’t seen my great aunt in a long time. We talked like we always do about my grandfather and all the stuff he had packed in his garages and basement. He was locally famous for collecting and held annual garage sales that were HUGE. Around April and May people would stop by his house to ask him, “When are you having your garage sale this year?” They wanted to know before they submitted their vacation requests.
My aunt stayed in one of his houses when Grandpa lived in Florida and she told of all the things she lost just because he moved things around. “There are things down in that basement that I haven’t found in years.”
As she started to mention her losses it reminded me of our things in storage. I initially thought of the photos and ‘the big stuff’ (antiques or furniture). She said, “I had a set of white bone china dishes.” And I remembered my great-grandma’s dishes.
She went on, “There were Christmas ornaments, boxes of them. Some just plain old bulbs, some blown glass, all kinds of decorations.” And I remembered my Christmas ornaments. A picture of my 3 year old self standing in front of a Christmas tree, glued onto a piece of construction paper and my mother’s Christmas village that she shaped and painted by hand.
We talked for half an hour about our memories of things lost. And every item she mentioned I had the same (or similar) loss. It was heartbreaking for me. And she… laughed.
She told me, “Believe me. You will laugh about this one day. You really will. I know you will.”
The shared misery (and source of laughter) was only a small part of our visit. My aunt Dorothy is a strong woman. She raised her daughter and four grandchildren. In her late eighties, she still baby-sits her great-grandchildren. This year she battled cancer (and won) and she also lost a grandson to a car accident.
Loss of loved ones and loss of health puts losing “stuff” in perspective. Overall the best part of the visit was her memories of family history. I never tire of hearing the stories of my Grandfather’s childhood.
My aunt is pictured above with my sis (aka 'speedy' on the right) and me. She’s wise, smart, and she made me laugh on a day when we both shared our sadness.
I think she’s right. Someday I’ll tell my grandchildren, “One time I lost a bunch of stuff and I was so upset I created a list on a blog for everyone to see.” And they’ll say, “What’s a blog, Granny?” And I’ll say, “Oh, just a low tech form of communication us folks used back in the day.”
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