Suzy Says

Well, the lawnlord never did stop by yesterday, so my diatribe on the evils of lawns and water bills remains undelivered. I used the energy to take my things out of the shed, where I discovered yet another Box. Is someone trying to gaslight me? I dragged it into the driveway, and in the bright light of day, its mildewed and smushed condition was immediately apparent. It looked like my soul would, if I had one.

Sighing, I dug into the paper. It was, not surprisingly, full of crap. What else would you expect? They say one man’s trash is another man’s treasure, but for me, the reverse seems to be true. The treasures have mostly turned out to be trash, at least as far as monetary value goes. Having said that, though, it warms my Grinchy heart every time I see my grandmother’s copper Liberty Bell Jell-O mold hanging on the wall of Erica’s store.

The box contained ugly vases; mysterious plates hysterical with cut glass patterns, too small for any use I could think of; a seemingly endless supply of saucers, mostly cracked and/or glued back together, all of them without cups; and the things I kept.

Above, you’ll see a glass platter with pictures of Presidents Grant, Washington, and Lincoln, with “In Remembrance” in big letters. A ribbon below the Presidents says “God Reigns; Charity First; Liberty for All”. I have no idea what it’s for, but it’s so cool I had to keep it. I also kept a relish tray in clear glass, patterned with raspberries and leaves. My grandmother used it for celery and olives at Thanksgiving (I don’t remember relish trays being used on any other occasion, but maybe they were). I also kept an aquamarine medicine bottle, and a matched set of amber bottles with “Otis Clapp & Sons” in raised letters. The unfortunately named Mssrs Clapp are, remarkably, still in business.

I placed the rejects in a box by the curb, and they were gone within the hour. How’s that for recycling? Who knew that cracked china and orphaned saucers had such a hot market?

I felt a passing pang of pity for my heirs, who will not inherit any treasures, at least from me, though they will get more trash than they’ll know what to do with. I picture them sitting amidst the wreckage, wondering what the hell I could possibly have wanted with the entire series of Dr. Dolittle books, or all those vinyl albums, or all those lipsticks. I guess what each generation really bequeaths to the next is the task of going through their stuff. Kids, I’ll make sure to leave you a few good bottles of wine to make the task easier. To paraphrase my father, I hope you’ll raise a glass to me and say “The old girl wasn’t so bad”.