......We had a major cleanup operation at my Dad's this past weekend. He was a bit of a hoarder, but on a grand scale....as in hoarded machinery, mobile home axles, dump shovels, backhoe parts, Hovercrafts, electric cars, Aquatic vehicles, snowmobiles, truck and trailer tires, tires and more tires (2 industrial roll away bins to be exact!) as well as a couple of camper trailers (RUINED! sadly) an old Winnebago motorhome I had dreams and plans for as a child. (also ruined)
Here's the link to the BEFORE video....I'm thinking of attaching the music to Sanford and Son to it.
http://youtu.be/DnquQ-wvn_w
We parked in our Airstream and supervised a crackerjack salvage team who rolled in the heavy machinery, dismantled, hauled, uncovered baby bunnies, rescued them, then stole them to take home to either feed to a snake or bottle feed and raise, (I prefer to live in the denial of the latter) humanely killed a baby bird thrown from a nest in the chaos, "floated out" a 9.7 ton Payloader and generally wreeked organized havoc on the collection of a like minded old individual, now deceased. My sister and I exchanged worried glances more than once knowing that Daddy would definitely NOT be resting in peace on this day. Odd things happened too that we read magically as his displeasure, not the least of which was my stepping on a step I've stepped on millions of times in the past two years to have it crumble beneath me. I could've broken my leg at the knee but in slow motion I twisted around and pulled up thinking that surely I'd now be at least breaking my shin bone. Nope. Big bruises but really really fortunately unharmed. Later as we discussed that we thought it might be him, I opened a cupboard to get anti-anflammatory meds and the whole contents fell out on my head! One bottle from it all rolled conveniently out of the pile: yup! the anti-inflammatory meds!
Being around such a high level of testosterone was unequivocally one of the most interesting experiences and studies in human group dynamics I've ever had the pleasure to have. There were about 20 guys (men's men), some very young, a couple quite wizened old characters, my husband the 37 year veteran police staff sergeant and the big boss, Wade, who was a cowboy of legendary stature but all working hard to clean up a huge mess without destroying a few possibly valuable vintage 3 wheeled cars, make a few bucks and do a little hoarding of their own.
We left the land, (now environmentally protected) to grow back up and over and return to nature and soon to be as beautiful as the surrounding area (if you don't focus on the Tailer Park)
The best part of the experience was that I got to enjoy the accolades bestowed upon my late father by his peers, men who knew him by the stuff he had collected and left behind and would have idolized him in absentia even more had they known "whatta deal!" he had likely gotten on all the purchases from auctions he'd attended, newspaper ads he'd combed and estate sales he'd been invited to be widows of friends. He was a character! He was ahead of his time. He was a genius and an inventor, but ran out of energy and life before all his dreams could be lived and we sifted through them all all together and revelled in what was left of him. It was fun. It was exhilarating, catharctic, nostalgic and for me, satisfying. We removed his treasure, which had become garbage, salvaged and recycled what could possibly be and left the land, now environmentally protected to grow back up and over and return to nature as my father had also done.
A couple days later, we stood in line at the local hardware to purchase heavy duty locks and hasps to secure the collectible cars that remained and the entire time in line, someone paged "Cecil". My Dad's name.
