According to Facebook (and Facebook is THE authority on these things), Greg gave me this 1949 Aladdin oil/kerosene lamp two years ago for my birthday. He found it at a garage sale for $2.00. I fell in love with it the minute I saw it.
Greg knew me really well - he knew what I liked - and he knew that I loved things with a story even more than new... or unused things. We had that in common. All you had to do was take a look in my basement and you would see that my tastes were varied and more than plentiful (That's 'polite' for basement-full-of-junk).
A couple years ago we had to have our basement waterproofed. As part of the process, I had to do a major purge of all the great things in the basement that I had "collected". Thankfully, my youngest son and his family were moving to a new (larger) house at about the same time, so my daughter-in-law did her part in the Grand Purge and took many pieces of furniture that I had been "saving".
After the waterproofing, I vowed not to "collect" again - and not to allow the basement to become a junkyard (again). I promised myself that if I got something new, I would get rid of something else.
Greg was a constant challenge to my resolve. He was always dragging some new "thing" he had found to my house. Some of the things were so great, it was worth finding something to get rid of in its place. Some things were so bizarre that I laughed to the point of tears at Greg's "vision" for my life. (Remember Billy????) He insisted that these were not just random 'things'.
"Mother, I found this 'XXX' at a garage sale and thought about you, so I had to get it." This kind of declaration from Greg was always accompanied by a grin.
My response was always accompanied by laughter. "Pretty sweet, Greg. Thank you! You find the best things! But... now I have to find something to get rid of."
"Things, Mother? Things??? These are not "things". They're treasures.", pretending to be insulted.
"They are treasures, Greg - and I am grateful for every one." And I was.
Greg told me about 6 months before he died, that his goal was to fill up my house with so much junk that I would never be able to move. He laughed when he said it, but I think he meant it.
And if it would mean that I could see Greg often, I'd stay in this house forever and a day.
Greg knew me really well - he knew what I liked - and he knew that I loved things with a story even more than new... or unused things. We had that in common. All you had to do was take a look in my basement and you would see that my tastes were varied and more than plentiful (That's 'polite' for basement-full-of-junk).
A couple years ago we had to have our basement waterproofed. As part of the process, I had to do a major purge of all the great things in the basement that I had "collected". Thankfully, my youngest son and his family were moving to a new (larger) house at about the same time, so my daughter-in-law did her part in the Grand Purge and took many pieces of furniture that I had been "saving".
After the waterproofing, I vowed not to "collect" again - and not to allow the basement to become a junkyard (again). I promised myself that if I got something new, I would get rid of something else.
Greg was a constant challenge to my resolve. He was always dragging some new "thing" he had found to my house. Some of the things were so great, it was worth finding something to get rid of in its place. Some things were so bizarre that I laughed to the point of tears at Greg's "vision" for my life. (Remember Billy????) He insisted that these were not just random 'things'.
"Mother, I found this 'XXX' at a garage sale and thought about you, so I had to get it." This kind of declaration from Greg was always accompanied by a grin.
My response was always accompanied by laughter. "Pretty sweet, Greg. Thank you! You find the best things! But... now I have to find something to get rid of."
"Things, Mother? Things??? These are not "things". They're treasures.", pretending to be insulted.
"They are treasures, Greg - and I am grateful for every one." And I was.
Greg told me about 6 months before he died, that his goal was to fill up my house with so much junk that I would never be able to move. He laughed when he said it, but I think he meant it.
And if it would mean that I could see Greg often, I'd stay in this house forever and a day.
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