The Workroom

 

If I have any regret in the process of cleaning out my parent's house it's that we didn't really document everything.

I say that because the before and after pictures could have been great.

Today, we dealt with perhaps the most daunting thing that we had to address.

Of all the rooms in the house on Longview Drive, the workroom -- my father's dojo -- was the one we were dreading.

Not only was it where my father might have buried some things (I'm hopefully only kidding) it was often an easy place to just put stuff.

It was the room where, without fail, I'd get asked to go locate a card that he'd hidden in a drawer.

"Get me that and a pen," he'd say to me so he could sign it to give to my mother for whatever event it was.

In later years, my toolbox sat there.

So did certain combinations of audio equipment.

But it was also a receptacle for mail to be dealt with or things that had been taken out of the car.

Tonight it's clean.

Gone is...everything.

The myriad plumbing supplies (my father worked for a plumbing supply firm).

The wood.

The tools.

The junk.

Gone.

Laura and I, in between visitors to the tag sale, continued to build a potential bonfire at the end of the driveway.

With it left the echoes of voices that passed from the garage to the basement and the stairs to go join whatever picnic was going on.

With it went the conversations about valves and pipes and sinks and fixtures and brakes and oil and lawnmowers and Gravely tractors.

With it went my father asking for a Philips screwdriver, only to receive a flathead one. Or, worse, something that wasn't a screwdriver. Yeah, tools weren't my strong suit. God forbid we dealt with wrenches or some other foreign tool when I was young.

Sean also showed up and helped us and I was really thrilled. This wasn't his weekend to be with me but he recognizes the importance of what's going on and that Laura and I are limited in terms of help. He also knew my sister might be handling the tag sale without me and he wanted to keep her company.

Yet, a nod goes to Brunswick baseball, unfortunately, as the Bruins' game with James Monroe High School was canceled. I was driving towards Greenwich when I get the news and I immediately turned around.

As for the tag sale, well, we made some money. We didn't have perhaps the foot traffic we had hoped for and adjusted to a burst of rain that effectively ended things for the day.

Yet, ever the optimists, we saw the good in that we had more in our pockets than we did when the day started. We also cleaned out the bear of a room that had myriad items hanging overhead in the beams.

We also saw the beaming face of a child -- no more than seven -- who was looking at Sean's toys while his parents shopped. They had picked out several things and were quite likely our biggest customers of the day. He had decided on a few items and was told by his parents to ask us how much for his goodies.

"I'll tell you what," I said. "Since your mom and dad have been such good customers, you can have those items for free."

A wide smile popped on his face.

Day made.

For both of us.

Sure, I'm a lousy businessman but what dollar value could top that?

We sold some things but there is plenty more! The CDs weren't touched! There are DVDs and furniture and lots more.

Come visit!

Maybe we'll even let you have a look at our newly clean workroom.

Probably last clean in 1963.

I'll take that as the sign of a good day.