STUFF IS MISSING FROM MY ATTIC

Did you ever think about it---men everywhere share a

common bane---a universal vicissitude---some to a

greater extent than others.

What I'm referring to is this: THEIR STUFF DISAPPEARS!

Ah yes, it goes missing---from storage sheds, workshops,

remote closets, garages, and ATTICS! Gone with the

wind...

Over the years, on hunting or fishing trips, or coffee with

the Boys, this subject has come up in some form--- "Wal,

I had a nearly-new 'blah-blah' and didn't use it much over

the years...but one day it was just GONE...and I know it

was there on my workbench."

Then if at coffee, he would lean closer, glance around, 

and say quietly: "You know, I think my wife gave it to

Good Will."

It's true, those marvelous, matchless, beautiful, helpful

creatures we live with, and who make life's journey so

special---have a penchant for neatness, order, and hate

junk---anything that looks out-of-place or unnecessary

has to go! The old "heave-ho..."

It's not just old stuff, either. Why about a month ago, a 

guy said to me: "I had an almost brand new gidget and

the wife didn't see any need (on earth) for it and it is

at the city dump right now! 

Now this is important: There is a basic rule about the

psychology of men, that is not taught in Home Ec.

Here it is: A man can sit and look at some object from

the past---which has brought him much joy and happiness...

throughout his life, such as a ball glove, an old football,

a pair of hunting boots or coat,  a fishing rod, a beat-up

Stanley Thermos,  his USMC Ka-Bar knife, old straw hat,

or even marbles...

Leave him alone with these things, and a Diet Pepsi, and

he will relive in his mind, in living color, beloved previous

events! ANY... OR EVERY ONE!

That's why recently, the VACANCIES... the blank spots on 

my attic wall were so obvious...and sad. Stuff was gone. 

Good happy stuff!

Working on the theory that "YOU'LL NEVER USE X AGAIN,"

things were missing.

Where oh where did my eight duck decoys go? The ones that

were tied together with binder twine,  and hanging from an

eight-penny nail over there, nicely and picturesquely filling

the corner of the attic....the ones that had proudly floated and

tempted ducks on the Rio Grande and still had dried Rio 

Puerco mud on them...

Someone gave them to an old hunting pard...

My leather quiver full of custom-feathered hunting arrows was

so neat and impressive, it would raise your BP, just thinking

about old "stalks" in the deep woods. A terrible ending: it went

to a church sale! Another empty spot on the attic wall...

"The New Year's Eve we did the town...the day we tore the goal

post down..." Remember that song? We watched our son, back

in the seventies, kick field goals for UNM...many'a fall night...

....sitting on our little handy folding stadium seats at UNM 

Stadium Wore 'em out and had 'em recovered in leather. Hard 

to climb that vast stadium anymore...so those neat seats went

to some sale somewhere. Another gap in the decor up here...

I, myself am guilty of one empty nail there on the wall. it was 

like this---We lost our yard man and in desperation I hired three

Hispanic folks (off a flyer) to do the yard. They came---a lady,

a strong young guy, and old old-timer named Rodrigo, who

was sniffling and nose running and he couldn't keep his pants

up.

The doorbell rang, halfway through the mowing, raking, bagging

of fall leaves...and the younger guy, having seen my suspenders,

said: "Rodrigo can't keep his pants up---do you have an old pair

you could spare?"

I magnanimously marched up my attic stairs, took my favorite 

old red-white-and blue patriotic suspenders off a nail where they

had been a decoration...suspenders that had seen many Fourths-

of-July and splattered with hamburger grease from the grill--and

gave them to old tired Rodrigo. Felt good too...until later---there

was that vacancy there...on the wall...

One day, awhile back, my dear friends from childhood days in

Clovis, Art and Bobby Joe, came by and we were having a nice 

time up in the attic, and eating sardines, cheese, onions, and 

Ritz---and drinking BARQ'S BIG ORANGES...

...and Bobby Joe was checking out my stuff around the cozy 

room, and he said "Why do you have your old wader-hip-boots

nailed to the wall?"

Bob, I said: "That's another story for another time!"

*****************

BY MIL

8/23/16