Today the girls and I moved the contents of Dad's desk and credenza into boxes. (We think it is funny that Mom didn't want Gayle to come again because "there was nothing for her to do". This is our second Saturday in a row to clean out/box up something at Mom's request.) My brother Bill had waded through the drawers stuffed with files and weeded them down to just one drawer, so we didn't need to do any sorting. We lifted the files into a box and then began pulling things out of the nooks and crannies. And in a 3 X 6 desk, there are a lot of nooks and crannies!
We found 3 nail files. Mom said, "No wonder Dad could never find a nail file!"
We found business cards that had English on one side and Chinese on the other.
We found a stack of business cards from when Dad was in the army, with a sheet of tissue paper between each card.
We found a handwritten prayer list for George W. Bush.
We found handwritten letters to elected officials.
We found a book of matches from Tenkiller State Park.
We found children's artwork.
We found little bits of Dad's life history in every drawer, behind every door. It was very sweet and a little bit sad. All these artifacts and much more are boxed and in the guest room, waiting to be passed along to the next generation.
It makes me wonder...what if someone cleaned out my desk and files? What would those bits and pieces say about me, about my life? Hmmm, I think it's a good thing that one of my goals for Spring Break is to clean out closets and cabinets.
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Gwen, my dad kept things in his nightstand drawer and a shoe box. In January, I emptied the drawer into a box, put the shoebox on top, taped it shut and brought it here. When I can, I take something out and look at it. This is a hard, hard season, friend.
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