The End is Near

Our little hometown at the top of the Missouri Bootheel recently had a designated day when the city’s garbage collectors would pick up anything you left out.  Normally they won’t collect appliances, car batteries, or dangerous chemicals but on this particular day they said they would pick up pretty much anything.

But they might draw the line at what I saw that day.

——————————————

My wife Annie and my sisters and I have been cleaning out Mom’s house.  Until she recently went to live in a retirement home, Mom had lived in that home for 56 years, since she and Dad bought it in 1963.  They had raised four kids, including a messy son who never owned enough books, and was always experimenting with SOMEthing.  I wasn’t always good about cleaning up after myself.

OK I was never good about cleaning up after myself.

But Mom had her projects too.  She produced dozens of tole-paintings on saw blades, disc blades, and old boards from barns and houses as well as a few paintings on the traditional canvases.  She made quilts for her children, grandchildren, and great grandchildren, as well as dozens of people around town and in other parts of the country.  And of course, there was sewing, which her older sister taught her when they were children.  Mom made or repaired clothing for tens of thousands of people all over the place.  When I say that number it’s no exaggeration.  Not to mention the fact that she has long been a closeted hoarder.  She didn’t mind selling things at a yard or garage sale.  In fact, she did that as a hobby for many years, but if she didn’t get the price she wanted for an item she had picked up at another yard sale she just kept it.

Then there were the things she brought with her when we moved into the house in 1963, including a stereo.  A.M. only, as it was made in the days before F.M. and played records in all three speeds available back then: 33 1/3, 45, and 78 RPM.  Yes, 78 RPM.  It was not only old; it was HUGE.

Don’t forget the things that the house’s previous owner left, like old jars and paint cans.  Yes, sixty-year-old paint cans.

Do you get the idea?  Her house was FULL.

After weeks of hard, dusty work, mostly by Annie and my sister, Chickie, the house was getting down to a few things different people in the family had spoken for and some junk. 

Well, a LOT of junk.

So you can see why we were happy when the no-limits trash pickup day came around.

——————————————

Annie and I loaded up some old appliances and other junk into the back of my pickup and drove it to the end of the driveway, where we piled it neatly on the side of the highway.  Well, as neatly as you can pile a bunch of junk, OK?

I moved the truck back to the house for the second load and we went inside to start carrying out more stuff.  Tossing that first armload into the back of the truck, I glanced toward the highway, where a couple of raggedly dressed and dirty men were busy putting our first load of junk into the back of an old pickup.

“Check that out,” I commented to my wife.  “I guess one man’s trash really is another man’s treasure.”

She went in the house as I walked out to the highway to tell the busy men we’d be bringing more trash out momentarily if they wanted it also. 

They’d be back in a little while, they said, and would happily take anything they thought they could turn into cash.

A glance at the trash they had already loaded confirmed my thought that the two ragged gents really must have the Midas touch to make gold out of some of those old rusty paint cans with an inch or two of solid pigment in the bottom.

I offered, “We have an old car battery if y’all want it.”  As I turned back to them, I saw something I’ll never forget.

——————————————

The older of the two was probably my own age although life hadn’t been as kind to him as it has to me.  Not that I’m going to be asked to model men’s swimming suits anytime soon, but, well, as my dad used to say, “He looked like he’d been rode hard and put up wet.”

When I turned to face them, the man bent wa-a-a-ay over to pick up a box of junk.  His pants, which had hung loosely under his big belly, slipped.  Though they were obviously not high quality in the first place, he clearly had spent all of his money on them leaving none to purchase the appropriate undergarment.

Yeah, folks, there was a full moon over Southeast Missouri that day…and there were no clouds to obscure the view.

Oh, how I wished there had been.

——————————————

I averted my gaze so fast I nearly threw my neck out.  You know how, when you’re playing baseball and you take a mighty swing at the ball but you’ve mistimed it and your bat makes a whooshing sound? 

I tried to look away so fast that I swear my head made that noise.

The younger man said, “Sure, we’ll take the car battery.”

“I’ll get it,” glad for the excuse to avoid another shot of the moon I hurriedly retreated toward the house.

He followed me and I handed him the battery.  “Got anything else you think we might want?” he asked.

I stuttered and stalled.  I mean, they seemed like nice enough guys.  Maybe they were just going through hard times.  It could happen to any of us.  Why should I have negative feelings about a little accident?

I said, “This load should be the last of it.  I’ll drive it out there when we are finished loading and y’all can look through it.”

He thanked me and went back to help the previously overexposed older gentleman.

Annie came out of the house and verified that the last of the junk was in my truck so she went back in to sweep up while I fulfilled my promise.

The two looked over the stuff in the truck and the younger shook his head, “I don’t think there’s anything we can use in here.”

Nodding, I climbed into the driver’s seat and started the engine so that I could position the vehicle to begin unloading once they left.

A voice said, “Wait a minute, I can use that.”  The older man grabbed a box and started back toward their truck.

I looked in my mirrors to make sure the load was still stable enough for the few yards I would have to move it when I heard a crash.  Without thinking I looked toward the sound only to be face to, uh, face with the older guy as he bent over to pick up the stuff he’d dropped.

The junk wasn’t the only thing to fall.

——————————————

Yep, a clear view of the full moon, and there was nothing romantic about it.

An hour or so later when Annie and I had finished our work and headed back home I couldn’t resist teasing her.  “You missed quite a show this afternoon.”

With more than a touch of suspicion in her voice, Annie asked, “What show?”

“When you were inside and I was out by the highway, I got mooned…twice!”

She chuckled.

I launched into my best Ray Stevens imitation, “Yeah, I did.  I’s just standin’ there by the tomatoes and here he come, runnin’ through the pole beans.  I hollered, ‘Don’t look Ethel!’ but it ‘as too late, She’d done been MOONED.”

I dropped the Ray Stevens act, “Mr. Keister came out to enjoy the breeze. 

“A badonkadonk escaped the honkytonk. 

“It looked like a pressed ham.”

She smirked, “No thanks.” 

A minute later we were passing through a neighborhood that Annie drives through at dawn on her way in to visit Mom each day.  She pointed at one of the houses, “Every morning a woman comes out of that house to walk her little dog.  I swear she doesn’t wear anything but a t-shirt.”

I know I’m old but I’m still male, with all the mental infirmities of that particular animal. 

“Oh?” I said, trying to moderate my enthusiasm for the subject.

 “Yep, she reminds me of the girls on Baywatch running down the beach.”  

My eyes widened. 

Annie didn’t waste time going for the kill.  “Combine two of them age-wise and three weight-wise and you’ve pretty much got her.  Nothing is where it used to be. 

“It looks like two pigs fighting under a blanket. 

“Like a slow game of volleyball. 

“Like Jello in an earthquake.”

I begged for mercy and called for a truce.  “I’ll probably wake up every night for a month sounding like a cat with a fur ball.”  I coughed like I was choking on something.

She countered, “Thanks to you I’ll never be able to look at a beautiful full moon without wishing for a frontal lobotomy.

I finished with, “Tushy…I mean, touché!”

We both laughed and rode quietly home, glad our day, and the conversation, were over.

——————————————

PLEASE SUBSCRIBE AT THE UPPER RIGHT.  IT’S FREE!

You will ONLY receive notifications when I post new entries to my blog.

Go to the top of the right hand column where it says, “SUBSCRIBE TO BLOG VIA EMAIL”.  Fill in your email and hit the “Subscribe” button.  You will receive a verification email.  Please confirm that you want to subscribe by clicking, “Confirm Follow” and you will be set!  Thanks!

It doesn’t seem to work from a cell phone, only a computer.  I don’t know why.  Sorry.  If there’s a problem, send me your email address and I’ll sign you up.

——————————————