My husband and I sold our home a couple of weeks ago. We decided it was time to downsize and move into something smaller now that two of our three children are in college and our youngest is one year away from flying the coop. I did not realize what an overwhelming task this would be. Making the decision to sell our home was not the most difficult part either, deciding which parts of our personal history would end up in our garage with bright orange and yellow tags and bargain basement prices was. How on earth does a person decide what is priceless and what is not? How does one put a price tag on memories? And then once that difficult task is done, how does one sit in a garage filled with those memories and wait for people to come and haggle over treasures that once felt irreplaceable?
And the garage sale shoppers! My gosh, I was completely unprepared. These people are intense. They are seasoned bargain hunters with bloodhound instincts. They sniff out the bargains quickly and skillfully. Family treasures are magically bartered down to the exact amount of loose change in their pockets. And then they are gone as fast as they appeared, off to the next garage loaded with another family’s history and memories.
I think I learned something today. I’m not a garage sale kind of gal. Next time I think I’ll just call Salvation Army. I don’t like selling memory lane to the lowest bidder.
And this is why I have been rather sporadic with the blogging lately. We don’t move for another 5 weeks, but I do hope to be back at the computer with more regularity soon.
3 comments:
As my wife and I are refugees from New Orleans where Hurricane Katrina destroyed ALL of our belongings including treasures gathered over 42 years of marriage, I can truthfully say that you need to be grateful that you had something to sell in the garage sale. 5 feet of water doesn't leave much. Most hurtful of all was not the $75,000+ worth of recording, performance and teaching equipment I lost in the new studio attached to our home nor was it all of the personal belongings that no longer exist. It was my Baldwin 9 foot Concert Grand that we had just finished paying for. Tell me, do you feel better now?
pianofritz2.blogspot.com
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"Religious Slaves".
Please accept my sincerest apologies for all of the horror you and your wife have been through and continue to go through. If I sounded ungrateful and totally out-of-touch, I apologize for that too. It certainly was not my intention.
Your sad story is a reality check for me and anyone else complaining about the truly minor things in life. But I must take exception to the question at the end of your comment. You asked me if I feel better after hearing your story. I can honestly say “no”. I never feel better at the expense of someone else's tragedy or misfortune.
I made the decision to keep the focus of my blog very narrow and concentrate only on the plight of Gays and Lesbians in a country governed by a president who has inextricably intertwined himself with the very “religious” people you write about in your article, Religious Slaves. But if ever there were another subject over which every American with an ounce of compassion should seethe, it is the American Tragedy that unfolded in the wake of Hurricane Katrina.
Thank you for taking the time to share your story, Fritz. I know I am not the only one who forgets to count my blessings. My prayers are with you and your wife.
Seething Mom
"Fritz" is an asshole! He takes your little post and turns into all about HIM. That's RUDE!
Like he said, he's worried about his dumb piano he just paid for!
To me the most precious would be my family photos, screw everything else.
Everybody has their problems, but when you live in a trailer in tornado alley, or build a house on a fault line in California, or choose to live BELOW sea level, well, crap happens!
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