One man’s junk…

Aug 28, 2021 | 1 comment

L to R – Plant Stand, Table, Creeper, Geezer

There’s nothing that makes Nyel happier than poking around in junk stores.  That’s not so easy these days from his wheelchair vantage point.  But, now that we are “downsizing” (read getting rid of the “extraneous and unwanted”) he’s almost in seventh heaven once again — even though he’s at the giving rather than the getting end of things.

I’ve lost track of the “stuff” we have hauled to Good Will or to some of the Thrift Shops across the river.  Most of it has come from the garage and the big storage room that has collected the extras and maybe-somedays for three generations.  We work on that room together, deciding what can be pitched, shredded, re-gifted or offered to the museum.  The garage is Nyel’s bailiwick.

Fixer-Upper Rocker

I have been astounded at what has come out of the corners and down from the rafters.  Amazingly, Nyel knows not only where each “treasure” can be found, but where it came from and where it should most logically be re-homed.  His blacksmithing equipment — forge, anvil, tools, how-to books went to a friend who “might” actually get going on a project.  Or, maybe someday another potential smithy will be the beneficiary.  And several items have been set aside for Tucker (but don’t tell Carol.)

If there’s no emotional attachment to whatever-it-is and if I can lift it into the car, it is ultimately headed across the river to Good Will.  And then there are the things I’ve come to call “Road Kill” — stuff someone else has pitched onto the side of the road and Nyel has rescued, either with a project in mind or just because…  There were also several things that even he couldn’t identify, but he had a “project” in mind for them… Someday. They went out in front of the garage door with a “Free” sign on them and disappeared in the night.

Today, he’s still fussing around out there and keeping an eye on several treasures with “For Sale” signs on them — mostly $5.00 per item.  While I spelled him for a while, a woman came and paid me for an old rotary phone of my mother’s.  A few minutes later a young man came by and expressed disappointment that “the cell phone” had already sold.  I knew what he meant but when I said we might have another rotary phone around someplace, he didn’t seem interested… Oh my.

1 Comment

  1. Sturgesz

    Bu no Espy letters PLEASE! That is your treasure.

    I am also excavating here – and in the five storage lockers in Seattle. One of my most vivid memories of my beloved Pam was her frantic efforts to remove items from the Volvo destined for Goodwill. It is part of her credo that stuff comes in but never goes out. Kinda like the Bates Hotel of “stuff”.


Submit a Comment

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *