Kindred Spirit

My neighbor Helen, a crusty genuine character (retired math teacher), recently died and we were all sad. Not too sad, though, to skip the estate sale across the steet with special previews for the locals. Most of us had never been inside her house – and did not realize that she collected just about anything purple -- along with OWLS – thousands of owls. Ceramic, fabric, metal, garden art, wooden, fancy and plain. Her house was truly scary, mostly because of the owls, but also because she had a giant macramé plant hanger JUST LIKE MY PARENTS HAVE. I saw my future – the cataloguing of the junk, the dealers clawing through the occasional good stuff, the haggling over pricing, the vaguely pleasant memories that pop up from finding artifacts from 1967. Helen had the good sense never to have children. The proceeds will go to a noble charity.

When the time comes, I will try to hire a stranger to sell my parents’ treasures, assuming I ever get them to move out of the house. And yes, they have owls too.