Remember When

Heavens to Betsy, what was that? I only turned my head for a second when I heard the crash of something heavy on our kitchen floor.

My young great-grandson had managed to pull the “junk” drawer off its runners and bang, to the floor, it tumbled. What a mess.

That’s probably happened at one time or another at every home in this county.

I’d wager that just about everybody has a junk drawer.

It’s OK; we’re supposed to have a place to store discarded stuff that will surely come in handy at some future time.

I’m sorta glad to see more folks hanging onto stuff and making the old new again these days.

For me, its a reminder of our backyard outbuildings concealed by hedge bushes and such.

Long before I arrived on the scene, homeowners had horse barns, wagon sheds, storage buildings and various shacks on their property.

But changing times brought on by automobiles meant that many of those old structures fell into disrepair.

However, I wasn’t one to neglect anything.

For me, those old abandoned structures were a saw mill gold mine. 

The genuine metal storage building I recently put together is just about full.

You know, for some reason, I have trouble parting with a lot of my stuff.

I’ve always been that way, which is no big secret around our house.

After all, a man’s toys are a man’s toys and his plunder house is his castle.

Toys are like old friends.

We’re supposed to hang on to them as long as we can.

My wife has been knowing that ever since she helped my parents pack and move from Chesterfield Avenue to Bell Town a number of years ago.

Uncle Walter grew tired of running a service station and decided to take up the cattle business.

He wasn’t content to just raise a few head on his Highway 903 spread, either.

Uncle Walter was really into it; the two concrete silos you rode by going to the beach were proof. They were his.

Uncle Walter even hauled cows to the sales in Columbia and Mineral Springs on a regular basis.