February 9, 2000  Forgotten Things Digest

Today was a big day for me. I finally figured out what that thing was in
the shed off the garage. I just couldn't really see it until now.

I have been finding all sorts of miraculous things in this home. Who
knows what it is like? Maybe a cross between a treasure hunt and the sad
cleaning of your dead grand parent's house. It goes beyond the finding
of little mementos and reminders of your loved ones. It never was that
in the first place, as I just didn't know these people. Though sometimes
I can pretend that I did. I can find an object and manufacture a history
for it. I imagine the first time I saw that glass and how, when I
visited, it was the only one I would drink from. I would wrestle it away
from any younger cousin that came between us. And, it goes beyond even
the made up. I get really excited about the useful things. Things that
are so beautiful with age, so from another decade, that one can hardly
believe that they exist.

My vacuum cleaner is the perfect example. I had seen it in the closet
and recognized it as a vacuum a few weeks ago. I hadn't used it until
this week. It looks like a vacuum from another dimension. It is clear
what it is, or what it looks like, but when I pulled it from the closet,
it was a different game. I had no idea how to use it. Even though I am
mechanically inclined and have seen even the inside of many vacs, it was
only trial and error to get this one working. Sure enough with the right
switches in the right places, it'd make June Cleaver proud. I remember
when June Cleaver, my great aunt used to use that old singer everyday.
No sooner would she finish than us boy, we would come in from catching
frogs in the swamp. It was a terrible injustice to her, when I look back
on it now. She only smiled and offered us lemon aide as we tracked mud
onto the clean carpet. Ah, the old days.

As I said, it is the shear usefulness that gets me, sometimes. I found
something that is no prize in the memory game. It is reminiscent of the
prototype first model. The one they made before they really knew what
they were doing. It doesn't have the class of June Cleaver's old singer.
I was just cleaning the wood stove, and trying to sweep all of the ash
out from between the bricks. I just couldn't get it all and I thought,
ìI guess I will have to buy a shop vac.î I had completely forgotten
about it hours later. I was cleaning the garage and sorting old boards,
and what did I unearth? The ugliest little shop vac that god every made.
It looks like someone took a metal bucket and put a motor on top. Only
they did it in a factory and ëtriedí to make it look pretty. I love it
when home made meets mass production for the first product line. I sure
hope it works well. If it doesn't at least the bucket of coal I found in
the same pile is burning fine.

There is a home made trailer in my garage. It has bicycle wheels and was
made, I was told, to haul behind a wheeler and carry a boat down to the
water. I have a real memory of this trailer. I knew that I had seen it
before and when I found the plywood cut out and 50 pound stuffed bears
in the garage I put it all together. Not too many years ago I saw the
trailer all decked out with these bears in the annual Number Four
Memorial Day Parade. This is still strongly a family affair, and it is
not hard to remember or invent the image of the grand children putting
the float together and exuding pride in their accomplishment. It goes
with the pictures in my head of Grandma and the grand kids painting the
murals in the bunk house, and making sure they had gotten everyone's
name on to mark the passing.

So I looked at that contraption in the shed again. I had been operating
on the assumption that it was a big bed frame, or frame for a swinging
chair, but truly I was still mystified. I poked at it a bit more and
moved something to get a better look. That is when I saw the wheel, the
wooden wheel made from old wire spools. It was a Flintstone car! I can
see it now covered with colored fabric on that late May Saturday,
powered down number four road, by kids and grand kids. It has two
benches and four wheels, and an open floor for the feet to touch the
ground. It must have been over twelve years ago. I have no idea why I
can remember it so well. Maybe I just dreamt it. Maybe I did know these
people. Maybe being in the house, I haven't just inherited the stuff,
but have started to let the memories sink in.

Soon enough there will be no surprises. It will all be my own, even the
memories. It will all be right where I left it. I am sure I will miss
the days of the endless treasure hunt.

Mixim