Christmas seems to come twelve times a year for my children, thanks to the City of Dallas' monthly big trash pickup. That such "riches" would be pushed to the curb as refuse is astonishing to these pint-sized treasure hunters (aka: hobos).
This month's tally:
--Briefcases (2)(entry code not included)
--Bolo tie (1)
--Various sports patches & ribbons (3)
--Mini BBQ grill (1)
--KAPPA ALPHA OMEGA membership card for Stan (1)
--Brass "STAN" beltbuckle (1)
--"STAN" chain bracelet (1)
--Astrological necklace: Taurus. (Presumably Stan's)
(Not pictured: non-working ShopVac)
1 comment:
Oh, Stan. We all know him: some from a safe distance, others from a haunting closeness kept locked in the smoky diaries of the soul. Yet leave it to a child's curiosity to open the core of a man few genuinely understood. The discarded trappings of his life tell his tale. They would appear to sum him up neatly - but look closer and the enigma comes off like a stench stronger than Bubbie's 40-year old sofa: Secretive yet social. At once seductive, yet raw. A stylish symbol of his time, he was at home in the water, yet never was there more a land animal than his beloved Bull. Few bonds, many connections. And the vacuum cleaner? Why, it belonged to Mrs. Nussbaum across the street - and she can singe an ear hair with her tousled tales of an afternoon with Stan in the toolshed back in the summer of '73. She had come to borrow a trowel, yet left that loveshed with memories to last her a lifetime. Her vacuum is her homage to their 12 minutes of shared passion. God bless you, Stan.
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