The Secret Life of Husbands…

Photo by Kevin Fe;ts

…or maybe it’s the inattentiveness of wives.  Or at least this wife.

During 2021, as we worked at “downsizing,” — read: cleaning out our closets and file cabinets and the generations of “stuff” that has accumulated in the back forty — I have gradually discovered an entire facet of Nyel’s life that I really didn’t know much about.  Oh, there were hints…  And I could have asked.  But, it never seemed necessary.

Today’s discussion over our morning coffee was a great example of one of these “revelations.”  I was expressing my desire to find a more convenient place than we currently have to hang up wet coats, hats, scarves, etc.  We decided that the best place is the area we are presently using for “extra” outerwear — an old field coat of mine and an army jacket of Nyel’s.  Somehow, we’ve never been able to let them go and now, we decided, the time has come.

Jack’s — The Best “New” Junk Ever!

“That’s not my “original” army jacket, anyway” Nyel said. ” I really don’t have any sentimental attachment to it.”  And he went on to say that it was a replacement for his first one — the one he’d purchased from an army surplus store back in the sixties or seventies. Apparently, this one was “better; more complete” — had the epaulets which were missing from the earlier one.

This current jacket came from “one of those guys who set up in the field across from Okie’s during Rod Run.”  “Huh?” was my gormless response.  I know that  when Nyel was more mobile, he was  a relentless “junk store junkie” but, what guys across from Okie’s was he talking about?

“You know.  One guy sold army surplus stuff.  Another sold tool handles…” and the words died as he drifted back into those good old days when he could spend the odd hour or so at Hippie John’s in Seaview or throw a roadside “find” into the back of his pickup — almost always with a future “project” in mind.

In Seattle

Sad to say, I never noticed those guys across from Okies.  Nor did I know that it was Nyel (not my dad or grandfather) who put up the storage shelves in the north end of our garage.  Or that he squirreled away every wood scrap from various construction projects against the day we’d need kindling.  (Read: every night this winter.)

I must say, I feel a tad guilty about how oblivious I’ve been.  On the other hand, Nyel has never read a single one of my blogs unless prompted… I guess it all comes under the heading vive la dif·fé·rence!

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