"Yard Sale"

The general order of our home has been slightly askew lately. My wife, Laurie, and our two daughters, Alyssa and McKale, have been preparing for a yard sale. My son, Spenser, and I, however, have been far too busy for such domestic duties; he with Boy Scouts and me with work at the trading post. Whatever spare time we have is spent building Spenser's pesky 1968 Baja Bug project car. Laurie has periodically derailed my focus for what she considers more pressing needs. Somehow she has found time for me to replace the windows in Spenser's room and correct a few minor plumbing problems. Uninhibited air flow and running water seem to cause Laurie great concern. I do not know if my handyman skills have improved as a result of this repair work, but I do know that, because of skinned knuckles and general frustration, my colorful language repertoire has gotten a full and thorough workout.

Yard sales take a great deal of time and effort; there is much rummaging through every nook and cranny of the house looking for artifacts, extensive searching of storage areas for buried treasure and persuasive dialogue to convince everyone concerned that it is time to let go of the selected objects. This time, there were tug of wars, pouting fits, tears and even sobbing, but Laurie is strong of body, mind and verbiage, and stood firm. That, along with the fact that she was backed by her two " mini mes, " made it useless to argue about the deacquisitioning process. It was an emotional experience to walk through the house knowing the boxes stacked and packed around the room contained bits and pieces of memorabilia that were once everyday aspects of our lives.

Saturday morning arrived all too soon, and Laurie rolled out of bed at 5:30 a.m.. She was soon hard at work arranging her sale items on the front lawn. I followed at a slightly less aggressive pace. By the time I had showered, shaved and dressed, Laurie had a good portion of her storefront in position. I picked up the pace a bit, but soon realized I would never match her speed and stamina, so I went into the house and rousted out the girls to help their mother. As I have been told, the mark of a good leader is to know when to delegate responsibility. By 7:00 a.m., we were open for business, and the bargain hunters began to arrive.

As I strolled around Laurie's yard sale, I became concerned with how she had excavated my collection of mementos. A young woman walked up to McKale's cash box with an armful of kids clothes that sent a wave of memories crashing over me. I reeled at the impact as I relived scenes of our children playing in the leaves, sledding and swimming in these outfits; the recollections played like an old, herky, jerky, sepia toned movie. The only thing that kept me from snatching those clothes from the grasp of that woman was the kindness in her face and a hiss of warning from McKale.

For pennies on the dollar, my most prized emotional possessions began to exit my life; filtering away like sand through an hour glass. I looked to my daughters for support as I tried to spirit away at least a few of the most cherished objects. The girls were having none of it though, it seems Laurie had cut me off at the pass by promising Alyssa and McKale a cut of the take. In their eyes, I was syphoning off cash from future shopping experiences. Where was Spenser when I needed him? Scout camp. Order of the Arrow. Probably no use anyway, he could be bought just as easily. I was on the verge of a full blown anxiety attack.

All at once I noticed an opening. Laurie had wandered off to do some yard work, leaving the girls alone to manage the store. I later learned that my wife was having similar feelings of remorse, and had decided to separate herself from the source of those emotions. In hopes of rescuing my sanity, I nonchalantly scouted a few treasures that I might preserve. I rounded up a doll I had discovered in Gatlinburg, Tennessee, while at a trade show. It had been a gift to my mother "Rosa" who had passed it down to my daughters. The doll represented one of the main reasons I had quit the show circuit; to stay home and spend more time with my family.

I preserved a Hillman Kid's triathlon shirt that Spenser earned when he was eight or ten years old. That shirt stood as a metaphor for the drive and determination my son has based his life upon, and how those qualities are serving him so well in his recovery from a life threatening accident. The sweat on his brow, his rapid heart beat visible through that skinny rib cage and a fierce competitive fire in his eyes were replayed in my mind as I held that shirt close to my cheek. I grabbed up a pair of flowered bib shorts that Alyssa had worn while recovering from a broken tibia. I remembered the relief of discarding the lower body cast reflected on her beautifully freckled face as she stiff legged it around the yard through the multi-colored leaves of fall.

Shuffling through the book pile brought back memories of sitting with McKale, as we alternated reading duties from page to page. During these treasured moments, I discovered McKale's dramatic bent and her remarkable, creative nature. The feelings and images of the circumstances surrounding these items were as tangible as the sun on my face, and equally essential to my life. Adding a few books to my pile, I turned to face my daughters, who were now backed by Grandma Washburn. They jointly asked, "Are you going to pay for that? " Thinking to myself that you cannot put a price on memories and the good feelings they provide, I decided to act! Arming myself with a large aluminum pot lid for a shield and a red plastic bat as a blunt object, I forced myself through their advancing column and made my escape.

My success was exhilarating. The adrenaline was flowing now and I was feeling cocky about making another assault. Laurie had rejoined the group, which made the odds less favorable. I noticed the ladies were beginning to pack up, with the intent of donating the remaining items to charity. I changed tack and called on my dearest neighbors and friends, talking them into taking some of the kids clothes. My intent was to keep the clothes/memories nearby and visible. I then used this distraction to make off with a number of shirts for Kira and Grange, and hard nosed Jana into promising that my niece and nephew would wear them. I was ecstatic It may not have been fair to my family and friends, but my therapist says I am not about being fair these days . . . I am about self satisfaction. I can live with that!