One Man's Rubbish

         We bought this house as is. The elderly couple who left it to their elderly son did not clear out any of the stuff in the attic. The things people save. There were a few things of some value such as vintage clothes that one of my friends was interested in, but mostly junk. They had been pack rats.

         Most of it went into the dumpster we rented, “Why would they save this?” My husband, Matt asked for the hundredth time, holding up some object.

         “I don’t know maybe they thought it would come in handy some day.”

         Day after day we carried down boxes and bags of junk. Old Saturday Evening Posts, hundreds of them, were joyfully received by a neighbor. Another neighbor wanted the stacks of National Geographic magazines. There is no accounting for tastes. Nothing of value was found as we labored on in the grilling hot attic and musty basement.

         Grady, our son, came running. “Dad look!”

         I turned to tell him we weren’t keeping whatever it was.

         He was holding an old White Owl cigar box, “Look, look look!” he shouted.

         Matt looked. An expression of amazed delight spread over his sweaty face.
         The two of them sat on the ground examining their treasure trove.

         “Dad, here’s a Jackie Robinson rookie card!”

         “Look, a Joe DiMaggio.” said Matt, his voice echoing our nine-year-old’s excitement. They spent the rest of the day going through the box of ancient baseball cards .

         It just goes to show you that the right object in the hands of the right person becomes a treasure.

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