Wallowing in memories
By BILL DUNCAN
The View From Here
I have never been one to tear down and throw away what was once a vital part of my life. But I have reached that plateau where I must tear down and throw away. My old, 1948 farm house is about to undergo yet another remodeling.
I say yet another remodeling because I purchased it from an owner who had built a second story over the small, two-bedroom, one-bath house. For that owner, it had been remodeled to turn the upper floor into an artist’s studio with a private bath and a side entry.
My wife envisioned how that structure could become three bedrooms upstairs to accommodate ourselves and four children. Our son, Barry, then 19, was a master at building and he took her design and drew accurate building plans on the back of a large calendar.
He did the project almost single-handedly since I am dangerous around hammers and saws. That was in 1977 and we have lived there ever since. We are now down to two people rattling around in that big house, but there is a problem.
Age creeps up on a person and once strong legs are now weak knees and climbing stairs, well, you might say is a pain. We considered moving from this old shoe to a postage stamp lot and house in town, but this old house was just too comfortable.
My son, Barry, who is now in his late 40s and owns a screen door manufacturing business in California, decided we should stay where we were comfortable and saw an easy solution. Tear down the large storage area attached to the back of the house and build a master bedroom and bath in its place. A one floor paradise.
He will be here in a few days to start demolition and construction. That leaves me with the throwing away part of this project. There is a collection of nearly 30 years of stuff stored in that storage area.
It would be easy for some just to rent a dumpster and send those memories to the landfill. But not for a reader.
Those are treasures stored in that portion of the house and they need to be handled as treasures, not junk. Admittedly, every resale charity in the county has already benefited from my discards. The recycling center surely has had a boost in its recovery program, but there are some things that one cannot just throw away or give away. They are part of one’s life.
For example, I found stored in that back room a wooden toy log truck, complete with tiny logs (tree branches), that was made by this woodworking son, Barry, when he was even younger than 19. Oh sure, it could be given to a charity for sale, but would the buyer really know the genius that went into creating this toy?
Then clearing out another area, I found the most ingenious wooden toys made by another son, Jack, hanging on the wall in the pump house which is destined to become a walk-in closet in the remodeling.
One would hope these adult children would want such memories of growing up, but then it would be just so much clutter in their pristine homes. Fortunately for their wives they didn’t inherit the pack rat gene from their father
I will have the area cleaned out and ready for construction by the deadline, but perhaps the toughest job is yet ahead. Destroying the clubhouse built by the last two sons to leave the nest, Jack and Jeff.
It has to go, but with every hammer blow it takes to bring it down, the memories of the fun times these two adventurers had building and playing in that secret place will remain in a father’s heart.
(Bill Duncan can be reached by writing to P.O. Box 812, Roseburg, OR 97470 or via e-mail at elderstatesmansblog@yahoo.com)