“Why did you do all this for me?" he asked. "I don't deserve
it. I've never done anything for you.'
You have been my friend,' replied Charlotte. 'That in itself is a
tremendous thing.”
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| The culprits! |
E.B. White
(Click on the link below for background music.)
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bOqyygAQSX0 This is a tricky blog to write…first of all because there is
no way that I could include all of the pictures! Thank goodness
you can see them all on Facebook.
It also would be tough to top the real yard sale blog. That was one of the funniest adventures
I have had in a long time. I have
neverbeen a yard sale person. Not
as a seller or a buyer. In my
lifetime, I have been to one as a buyer and have helped with three as a seller. I doubt that you will ever see me
participating in one again – in either role. It was just TOO much fun.
I so wanted to hit the goal of five hundred dollars. Kate and I knew that we could do
it. One of the things I discovered
is that yarding is a form of gambling. Once on a roll, you become addicted. When you want to hit that goal…you
become risky. On Saturday night,
we knew that we needed to make $70.00 to reach the goal. I began looking for stuff that we could
sell. I thought about bringing out
some of the good stuff, but reason prevailed. For a short period of time on Saturday, I wore a sticker
that advertised me as being for sale for three dollars. Nobody expressed any interest. One man asked if we had any
antiques. I pointed to the tag and
said: “Just me”. Again – no interest – except in David’s
truck.
On Saturday night, I told David that there were beds up in
the attic that we will never use again.
He told me that he was going to take them to the dump that Kate said no
one would buy them. I said that
made no sense at all. I had seen
some of the stuff that people bought and there was no reason that someone would
not come along to take those beds – and if I was wrong, he could take them to
the dump after we closed the tent down.
I told him that every thing mounted up – and even five dollars was
better than taking t hem to the dump.
I think I may have had a bit of tone in my voice. The tone was to continue.
My poor sister suggested that we go to Harlow’s for
breakfast on Sunday. She
periodically suggests that we have dinner or breakfast out on Sunday to save me
from getting dinner. I could not
believe that she wanted to go on this particular Sunday. There was work to be done and things to
be found that might sell. Kate suggested
that if we were not going out to breakfast that I might be willing to stop at
Allen Brother’s for cider doughnuts.
Of course I would. I needed
sour cream to go on the baked potatoes that I was going to have with the BBQ
beef and pork ribs that I had gotten at Lisai’s for Sunday dinner. David did not want any doughnuts – so I
only bought two for Kate.
(Remember this – there is a point to this part of the story –
somewhere). I saw corn on
the cob and asked David if we should get some for dinner. He said that he did not want any and
that we had plenty of food anyway.
I said that Kate might like some – I think I may have bit of tone in my
voice. He bought four ears. (They are still in the fridge.)
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| My first clue! |
We then proceeded home. As we turned the corner, I wondered how much stuff Kate had
lugged out of the garage. She and
her dad had considerable conversations on Saturday night about how the tables
were to be set up and the prices that the remaining junk would go for. They had a clear plan that would sell
all of the remaining items for two prices – thus making it easier to get the
tables set up for the last day. I
could see that the tables were set up differently, but there were more than two
and there were paper lanterns hanging from the tent. I am not going to type what I said – but I am betting that
most of you who know me can hear the words that came out of my mouth. Within minutes my sister arrived –
mostly to make sure that I had not killed Kate…but she also wanted a doughnut –
think back – how many doughnuts did I buy? She put
her hands on her hips and expressed her displeasure about the fact that I had
not gotten her a doughnut…………and there was tone in her words.
 |
| Thank God it is behind glass! |
As the afternoon progressed, everyone’s tone changed. It was a wonderful opportunity to see
many friends – from several different school districts. It was a reminder of how fast 40 some
odd (and some of them have been REALLY odd) have flown by. They have been good years and it was a
wonderful way to celebrate them.
So, Kate – I don’t know why you did it, but I am glad that you did. I really don’t know how you pulled it
off without my knowing it – that is hard to do. It is my understanding that you told that fact to the world
at large. I hear you told them
that I was nosy and that if I had the least inkling that something was going
on, I would badger them until I uncovered the whole story. Where in God’s name did you ever come
up with a cockamamie idea such as that?
However cockamamie it was – it was a great afternoon. As I said many times that day – it was
better than any wake.
I was reading one of Anna Quindlen’s books this week and I came across
this sentence lead in: “ “The retirement parties I’ve attended
always had an underlying pathos….” I was fortunate enough to have had
several parties – and none of them had a sense of underlying pathos – but this
one did have the joyous characteristics of an Irish Wake. If I had been lying there, unable to
respond, I would have given us all “ a two thumbs up”.
It was one of those moments when I realized what a lucky
person I am. I stole another
thought from Quindlen’s book:
“When I coach
students through essay writing, I invariably give the most able the same
direction: go deeper, go
deeper. In each iteration, reveal
more, more of who you truly are, of what you are and of what you really
think. That’s the hallmark of
aging, too, that we learn to go deeper, in our friendships, in our family life,
in our reflections on how we live and how we face the future. The reason we develop an equanimity
about our lives and ourselves is that we have gone deep into what has real
meaning.”
I have had the opportunity to live that. I have been fortunate enough to live
through several ‘iterations’. In
each of them, I have been able to go deeper. In each of them, I have had the opportunity to come to know
and share, and love.
The final thought that I stole from the book is a thought
that I thought was mine. If you do
not believe me, ask Mary Ann McDonald.
I shared the thought with her as we were driving home from Maple Avenue
one day. It was shortly after I
had shared that this would be my last year. She asked me how I was doing with it. She was surprised by my reply. I told her that I was glad and sad –
but most of all, I was worried. I
went on to say that I did not know who I was. She looked at me like I had two heads. That is really not surprising – people
look at me that way a lot. But I
explained that this was different.
I have always been somebody’s daughter, somebody’s sister, somebody’s
mother, somebody’s teacher, somebody’s principal…somebody’s something…but now I
was going to have to figure out who I really was.
Quindlen puts it much more eloquently. “It’s odd when I think of the arc of my
life, from child to young woman to aging adult. First I was who I was.
Then I didn’t know who I was.
Then I invented someone and became her. Then I began to like what I’d invented. And finally I was what I was
again. It turned out that I wasn’t
alone in that particular progression.”
…and you know how Paul Harvey used to end his program with
‘and now you know the rest of the story’?
The clincher to this story is that the cat plates sold! Thank you Jacqui!!!!! Based on the fact that I know what you
are going to do with them, give me a timeline and I will bake the cookies for you!
Thank you one and all to all my forever friends!
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