Well, the deed is done, the garden is planted and it is almost bed time. There is just time for a quick thought.
Last night I opened a cupboard and found a little wooden chest that Grandpa made in high school shop. Inside there is the watch that he got when he retired from 28 years of work at Coors, an OLD lighter from back in the days when he smoked - and engraved boldly 'Al Hahn'. Also present was an old silver cigarette case, a set of dice, and several old pocket knives that are almost worn away from sharpening. Dottie and John didn't want any of this stuff, and really it isn't valuable, or even especially useful.
I guess that I am not one that always has to have stuff that is valuable or useful. In fact, I think I am sort of a magnet for useless and invaluable stuff most of the time. It was the pocket knives more than anything that I liked. The blades worn down to nubbins, and still fairly sharp brought back a vision of the characteristic grimace that Grandpa used to get when he was cutting a piece of rope, or screwing a screw into a board. It was the result of total concentration on the task at hand, and he didn't have any idea of how ferocious it made him look. Kind of scared me when I was little. Essence of Al Hahn distilled into a very intense grimacing scowl, teeth clamped tight, lips drawn a little back into almost a snarl. He WOULD prevail!
I kind of like that box of stuff. I only have to touch one of those old knives and the memories come flooding back. Useless? Worthless? I guess that I am not a practical person, but I think I will keep the old box, and memories it contains.
Sleep well all.