0001: Lawn and Garden Equipment. Not that Dad ever used any of this s**t. He called a service to mow that tiny lawn of his. Or Ginny did. There’s good money in some of the stuff in the house. But we’ll see what people want to pay for it. It wasn’t that big, and besides, I didn’t think there was all that much of any value. The auctioneers made quick work of the house. They had much of the list done by the time I got to the hotel. They asked me if anything was off-limits, and I said no I didn’t think so. Well, you know Ginny will disagree. If it were up to her, she’d uproot that whole damn house and put it in her garage as a museum for safekeeping. She can go through the list herself if she wants.
0002: Tool Kit. Did Dad ever use this either? Probably just a set in a big pile of junk that we can finally leave behind. Just as soon as we get back from Australia of all places. I never thought I’d be back here. Never. It was, once again, a b***h to get here. But here I was, with these suckers. Why were we here? The money wasn’t even guaranteed.
0003: Patio Table and Chairs. This set was out in the back. Growing up we always ate meals outside, Mom bringing out the placemats and silverware and setting everything up just right. “Fresh air, fresh food,” she liked to say as she laid out a meal in front of us. We brought it to the White House, but mostly Dad just smoked out there at it.
0004: Glider with Weatherproof Cushions. Ginny and I got this one to put out back at the White House, and it was mostly us that used it.
Shortly after checking in, we went out to eat at an Outback Steakhouse nearby. This was exactly like the Outback Steakhouse in my hometown. Except rugby was playing on TV in the bar.
Harrison was so obnoxious about things like this. Who cares? It’s good food, and the prices aren’t bad. We sat down at a table. I laid out the plan for the next day.
We are up at 9, then breakfast, then we head down to the Opera House. I have a cab booked from here to there.
We come all the way around to the other side of the world, and we’re just going to cab out there and back?
Of course, this wasn’t exotic enough for Hale. She would probably have us sleep out in some tent in the desert.
There it was.
Ginny was quiet at the table. I think she was happy that we weren’t camping.
0005: Lawn Ornaments. Includes concrete angel and pedestal, 2 gazing balls, and one plastic goose. The angel was Ginny’s idea, of course. The goose came from a yard sale and he picked up the gazing balls from some other sale. When they showed up, Ginny asked, “What in the world is that?” They were some of the only decorations Dad ever got on his own.
0006: Fine China. One plate chipped. The Thanksgiving china. Mom and Dad’s wedding gift. Mom always did the house up right for Thanksgiving, and their centerpiece was always the Thanksgiving China. Dad would always come into the dining room, a huge tray piled with cut-up turkey, smiling, Mom was lighting the candles. Music playing in the house. Never Christmas music - that would only come after Thanksgiving. And the spread always lined up just so on the side of the dining room. Mashed potatoes, green beans. Macaroni and cheese, sweet potatoes, stuffing, that weird squash casserole that nobody ever ate except for Dad, biscuits. When I went for seconds one year I banged the plate into the cabinet on the side of the wall. It was the only time in my childhood after being really young that I came close to crying. I knew what those plates meant to Mom. To me, those plates were Thanksgiving. She took me aside and said, “That’s OK, it’s the little chips that make things more beautiful.” The next year, she put the plate at her place and said it was her favorite. Mom knew how to make us feel good. When she passed, we tried to set everything out one more time. Hale wasn’t there. I put out Mom’s chipped plate at the place next to the head of the table. With only four of us there, the room felt empty. Dad came out with the turkey. The candles were lit, and music was playing. But it wasn’t the same. The next year, we ate out. We packed the Thanksgiving china away for the next time that we were all together. It sat in boxes at the bottom of the china cabinet from then on. Close to another Thanksgiving now. Without Dad, it will be just another day. Ginny invited me over to the house. Things will go fast when we get back.
0007: Clear Cut Glass Serving Ware. Mom always put little shrimps in bowls with lettuce and we’d be munching on them as Dad came in. She said it was a little bit of fanciness, our hors d’oeuvres. I wrote about it in a school report one year - ordurvs, I wrote.
Ginny ordered an appetizer of cheese fries for the table and sipped an iced tea. I continued.
0008: Set of 6 Pint Glasses. Mostly used for water later, but Dad liked a beer every once in a while. Mostly during the games. He stopped shopping for himself later and Ginny wouldn’t pick it up for him anymore, saying it wasn’t healthy.
I turned to the waitress.
She brought it back with a smile.
0009: Set of 4 Monogrammed Highball Glasses. A gift from Harrison.
Harrison spoke up, shaking his head.
Silence for a bit. Hale spoke up.
She knew I hated that name. It was one of a thousand buttons she knew to press. Nobody called me Chester except Mom.
0010: Assorted Wine Glasses and Shot Glasses. Some left over from Mom. She liked a glass of wine every once in a while, but she usually stopped after one glass, saying it made her sleepy. Hale had a shot glass collection in the house at one point. On her first few trips, she brought one back from different towns that she went to. She stopped eventually, but it’s still in there. Dad liked looking at them. He had lined them up on the kitchen window.
Hale spoke under her breath.
We were going down a road that we had gone down a few times back home already.
0011: Pair of Etched Crystal Champagne Glasses. Mom and Dad’s crystal glasses from their wedding. In their wedding pictures, they look so different, so happy: Mom wearing one of the only dresses I’ve ever seen her in; Dad wearing a suit that was slightly too big. It’s like they didn’t have anything figured out yet. In another picture they stand clinking the glasses together, looking only at each other. I never saw them drink out of those glasses. At my wedding, we used our glasses mostly for the pictures. I made sure we had some fantastic champagne too. That was one of the good days. On one of the bad days, I drank a fifth of bourbon from one of our glasses and then shattered the other in the sink.
0012: Serving Trays and Salt and Pepper Shakers. We never used these after the last Thanksgiving we spent together. There was a big spot in the middle of the turkey serving tray, and salt was caked to the inside of the shaker. They must have cleaned it out.
Ginny cut in, finally.
Now stop, guys. Dad wouldn’t have wanted us to be fighting, not like this. He put us on this mission to come together!
I think Dad did it to get you guys out of your sad little bubbles. He doesn’t give a s**t if we are together or not. He didn’t care for the past few years at least.
Ginny was quiet again. Poor Ginny. She is weak as hell. She mostly put up with Dad those past few years. Dad wouldn’t move in with her and Vick and the kids but he had that little place nearby. She went in almost every day. I had to tell Hale off.
0013: Corning Ware and Assorted Glass Bakeware. Dad never baked a day in his life, but sometimes he would pick up another piece at a garage sale, then stuff it away in his cabinet. He missed Mom’s pies as much as I do. Mostly he got the store-bought pies after she died. Ginny would make a pie every once in a while and bring it by. Wendy was good at baking too. Best sugar pie I’ve ever had.
Harrison rubbed his eyes.
We poked at the appetizer for a bit, quiet for a while. Harrison piped in again.
He was like Ginny, in some ways. Always trying to make things more pleasant when he was around.
0014: Oak China Cabinet. This was the other half of Mom and Dad’s wedding present. The grand china cabinet. Mom always had the Thanksgiving china arranged just so in there. The plates leaned up against the back wall on their chargers, the bowls set out in front, the glasses on either side of the plates, and then in the center, serving trays, gravy boat, a large bowl, carving knife, serving spoons, all of them in their places. The flatware was tucked away in a special wooden box hidden somewhere in the house, and she would open it before she set the table on the holidays, running her hand across the silver forks and spoons, strapped into the tops and bottoms of the box like a secret inside a spy’s briefcase. In later years, she would run her hand over the ding in the corner of the cabinet where I chipped the plate. Everything had its place, and everything was right. Wendy and I registered for a china cabinet too, but it’s gone now, along with all the stuff that was in it. Wendy got the actual china, the flatware, the glasses, the other registered gifts.
0015: Set of Angel Figurines. The figurines were Mom’s I think. Were they a gift from our grandmother?
Hale butted in again.
I had to tell her off again.
Ginny stopped me.
0016: Set of Folding Chairs. The fabric ones that say Mom and Dad on them. A gift from Wendy from when we were married. They stayed folded up in the closet after Mom died. Wendy didn’t push the issue.
Harrison sipped his beer and asked another small talk question.
And the kids? How old are they again?
8 and 6.
Jesus, that’s right. Are they doing well in school?
Noah is a little scholar. He loves to read. Eli is a little different. You know what they say about little boys, ‘A noise with dirt on it.’
0017: Assorted Tablecloths. The crocheted tablecloth with the stain on it by Hale’s place, the cloth tablecloths, the cloth napkins, perfectly white, now a bit off-white after being packed away. All these little things for one day a year.
Harrison smiled and buttered his bread. He shook his head. It was her typical spiel. He’d probably heard her say that before. We talked together like strangers. Except for Hale.
It doesn’t have to be like that. Maybe you are setting up too many boundaries, and he is testing the limits to see where you push back. He needs to be free to express himself. And besides, who says that a boy has to be loud and crazy?
More new agey bullshit.
Let me guess you want him to grow up wearing a dress or whatever.
And what would be so crazy about that?
You don’t even have kids!
0018: Set of 4 Wooden TV Trays. And later after Mom died, Dad didn’t eat at the table much anymore. He would sit in that dim living room watching his shows and eating whatever he could whip up quickly unless Ginny or I brought in something a little bit better.
Ginny spoke sheepishly.
The salads had come and she was stirring hers around in a lake of ranch dressing.
Harrison looked at her. He took a bite and launched into his typical script.
Whenever you guys get together you fight constantly. Ginny is like Mom in the middle over here, and I just don’t want to hear any more of it. It’s been, I don’t know, decades like this, and it’s driving me crazy.
0019: TV Stand. Then we’d sit in that living room, the TV still on but the volume lowered a little bit and just eat quietly, not much to say, not knowing that Dad was getting sicker by the day. He didn’t let us know, and he wouldn’t have let us know if he knew any earlier either.
Harrison was really annoying me at this point. This whole conversation was.
0020: Mustard-Colored Loveseat. We just sat there like idiots watching these shows about international destinations while Haleigh traipsed around out there in some of those places. He would remark about some of the spots that he recognized in Hale’s long emails. “You know, I think your sister Hale has been out there.” The loveseat folded out into a small bed, the most uncomfortable in the world. Ginny slept there much of the time, even though it killed her to be away from those kids and Vick so much. But she didn’t want to miss any moments. Not near the end there. And meanwhile, we were all waiting for Princess Hale to come back. All of us huddled around in that little living room, the TV, the easy chair, the loveseat, the stupid little folding tables set out, all of us waiting.
0021: Wooden Storage Shelves. Cheap ones, particleboard mostly, sagging in the middle from the weight of papers and bags and jars and whatever else Dad had tucked back there. I had a lot of my stuff packed back there too after Wendy and I split. Slowly I was able to get rid of it, and slowly Dad’s stuff replaced Wendy’s and my stuff. Got good prices for some of it too. It’s the kind of stuff that you’re not meant to keep. The kind of stuff that we attach significance to, even though the moment has passed.
The waitress came.
Harrison stood up.
The waitress went to get a box. He continued.
OK, you’re right, we’re here to do one specific thing, in and out like you said. It’s a miracle we’re here at all. Whenever we are in the same room together it’s like a time bomb. I’ll see you guys in the morning for our exciting cab excursion. What time? 8?
9, then breakfast.
I talked to him without looking up from my plate. The steak was perfect.
0022: Set of Wood and Metal Frames. Mom lined our old house with picture frames. It seemed that almost every moment of our lives was documented on those walls - up and down the stairs, on the mantel, lining their dresser, the grand picture wall in the living room, pictures in the hallways, in the kitchen, in the bathroom. The house was a photography museum. When we downsized Dad, we had to get rid of some of the pictures. Ginny kept all the frames, “just in case.” She said Mom would have hated to see them all go. I hated seeing them all there piled up pointlessly in those boxes. We had put up all the pictures that we could already. We chose a sort of greatest hits and put them up. We digitized the rest of the pictures but Ginny took the originals. If she wants the frames then she can take them herself.
It was me and Ginny and Hale. It doesn’t happen very often, if ever. Ginny looked uncomfortable. She tried to make a little more small talk.
0023: Photography and Video Equipment. One of Dad’s many old hobbies. If I can get anything for this old stuff I’d be happy. Who uses slides anymore? An old projector. He and Mom were going to use it more together, but obviously, that never happened. Instead, he took pictures around town for a while and then stopped. Ginny kept the old tapes from the camera, but this thing is so big and bulky it’s not even worth it to worry about.
I waited for Haleigh’s response with a smirk.
0024: Assorted Wall Art. Another one of the only things that Dad ever bought himself. It was the big, framed painting of the ship in the storm. It was the only thing he insisted on putting up in the White House, and there it was, directly above the TV, this crazy ship, leaned all the way to one side. There were other things there too. A box of old pictures from when we were growing up that Mom never had the heart to throw away. I found it in the attic, little pieces of paper with macaroni glued onto it, popsicle sticks, and later, watercolor and pen. Hale fancied herself an artist, and near the bottom of the box, it was just one after the other, Hale’s drawing of an eye, Hale’s drawing of a person, Hale’s drawing of a flower, more and more detailed but more and more pointless. Daydreaming instead of paying attention. If I brought home drawings instead of homework then I wouldn’t hear the end of it. But the oldest gets the strictest rules. Hale - well, we all can see what Hale has become. There was another landscape in there, some big framed posters. We didn’t have room in the White House so we left them in the closet. More room for photographs.
Hale bit right away.
Hale was responding exactly the way I knew she would.
Why go anywhere I wasn’t required to go? We have everything right in town.
I don’t know, maybe to see what is outside of your own walls. Expand your mind a little bit.
Well I was close to Mom and Dad, what more do you need?
0025: Office Bookshelf and Printer Stand. Dad was the kind of guy who printed out his emails every single time. He said the screen bothered his eyes, but he wasted so much paper on this, reams and reams of it, including the ads on the side of the page. Then he would file the emails away, stacks and stacks of them, down to the most insignificant response. I say throw them all away. Ginny says that there might be something in there and we should either shred them or save them for later. Throwing them away without her knowing is probably the better move. She’ll be sad either way. Then again, she’s the kind of person who saves all of her own things anyway. I would hate to be the one who has to go through her garage if she went.
Ginny was growing more uncomfortable. She could see what was going on. I continued.
Of course, that never mattered to you very much. You went off and expanded your mind down in wherever you were. And what were you expanding your mind with again? Pills? When Ginny and I were watching Dad in that little house, getting sicker all the time? Convenient for you to be on the other side of the world huh? For what, to go out to eat? To see outside of your own walls? Was it worth it?
0026: Pair of Table Lamps. These were on either side of the bed. Both beds actually, now that I think of it. Back when Mom was alive also. One was out the last time we saw Dad, lying there coughing, spitting up blood.
0027: Assorted Desk Lamps. Some of these were tucked away also. In that big old house we each had a desk. We saved some of the lamps, and the only one I can remember being left out was the one in the living room next to the computer, where Dad would sit and read his printed out emails.
Hale pushed back from the table.
F**k this. Harrison made the right call. I’m not hungry anymore.
Yep, go on, see you at breakfast, I hear they have some great beaches here. Perfect for local flavor.
We don’t even have time for that.
I laughed. That steak was amazing. Perfectly seasoned, some garlic mashed potatoes.
0028: 3 Floor Lamps. One was always on when Dad watched tv in the living room. One had a ding in the bowl from when we moved him down to the White House. Ginny saying, careful careful. Everything from the old house was sacred. Everything had to be put just right to make Dad feel right at home. I don’t think he cared much. If it was Mom that was the last one to go, maybe it would have made more of a difference. But Dad was more confused. He didn’t much care about the perfect placement of things, nor did he care much about their condition.
Ginny asked why I did that. I didn’t know what she was talking about.
She did that to herself. Walked right into it.
You know that she feels bad that she wasn’t there for Dad’s death. She talked to him all the time though. It doesn’t mean she didn’t care and you know that.
0029: Assorted Kitchen Appliances. All these little tools for the kitchen. Dad didn’t use them. It was up to Ginny to cook any good meal that Dad ever had in that house. I cooked a couple of times too. But mostly it was just the frying pan for him.
I was getting annoyed. It’s so like Ginny to try to smooth everything over. To try to say that everything is OK all the time.
0030: Assorted International Décor. From Haleigh. Some Buddhas - a great gift for Dad who isn’t a Buddhist. A scroll. A lamp made out of salt. What is this garbage?
Dad loved her just the same.
Exactly, that’s what’s so fucked up. We’re here on the other side of the world in Australia to try to get a quarter of whatever the hell Dad socked away. Don’t you feel like we should be reimbursed for the time and the money and the effort, down the drain? Do you really think it’s fair that Haleigh, the crystal goddess, deserves the same share as you? It wasn’t easy for you to go over there each day, was it? Would it have killed Hale to visit that stupid little house just once? No, meanwhile, she was having the time of her life on what? Vacations.
Ginny looked down at her chicken.
0031: USA Flags and Maps. Dad put out his flag for the summer every year, just in time for 4th of July. He got it up last year too right before he died. How could anyone ever want to leave this country? This land of freedom. You can do anything here. You can be exactly who you want to be. That’s what Mom taught me. I wished I could play football, but I blew out my knee in the playoffs.
Besides, there are plenty of beautiful places closer to home where she can take her vacations. She doesn’t need to go all out to all these crazy places all around the world, for what? To eat vegetables?
Ginny was still eating quietly. I continued.
She gets back from her latest excursion and comes back here for a day - a day! - before Dad crashed and now what, she gets to come in here and be a big hero. And then what will she do, head back out to wherever in the world and go eat pills over there with her junky friends.
0032: Portable Sewing Machine. Mom’s obviously. Football practice - high school. I had a hole in my practice jersey. She tried to show me how to do it myself. I couldn’t manage. I was never great at fixing things.
Now you don’t know that.
Haven’t you seen her sneaking pills from a little container in her suitcase?
Well, who knows what that could be? That could be anything.
Ginny was always looking on the bright side of things. But I know better. I’ve seen people go down this path before.
0033: Portable Electric Heaters. Not that Dad needed these. I went in there and had a service fix all those radiators, but Dad said that these were all he needed on a cold winter’s day. He used to point them right at his body, one on either side. Sucked all the electricity and sent the bills skyrocketing, but he just kept on saying, that’s how I like it.
I picked up my last piece of steak. Ginny knew what was coming.
0034: Religious Lot. We went to church on Christmas and Easter mostly, but Mom always talked about angels. Dad stopped going to church at all after a while.
Ginny sighed.
Mom called it her little miracle, you know that. Like a blessing from Jesus himself. Twins, and after she thought that she was past her prime.
An unexpected surprise, that’s all I got from it. Don’t you remember the screaming and crying and the s**t smell and the spit up? Dad said they didn’t love going through all that again.
0035: Football Ephemera and Memorabilia (incl. tickets, posters, etc.). I had always wanted to go to State. Dad took me to a few games and I was hooked. He kept watching the games, every Saturday, religiously, with little exception.
But what about the good times? What about when you held Hale and Harrison in your arms, the old picture of you in front of the tree with both of them so tiny in your arms, your football jersey on, a big smile on your face.
0036: Household Cleaning Equipment. Ginny did most of the cleaning. Dad’s idea of clean never reached the standard that Mom set, and he laughed every time Ginny, like Mom, found a smear or a smudge hidden somewhere he didn’t think to look.
A lot of good that did. You know what I remember, a lot of cleaning. A lot of stress. A lot of noise. All because Mom and Dad said it was on us to make sure they came up right. And look at them both now, so ungrateful, Hale back just in time to take her share and go back out to the other side of the world to hang out with God knows who, and Harrison, who is turning our private lives into this big story for all to see. Probably making me out to be the bad guy of the story. He doesn’t know me, no sir.
0037: Cutlery Set. Like the china, this only made an appearance on special occasions. Mom fished it out from the back of the closet, or sometimes it would be under her bed, and rubbed her hand over the scratch that ran diagonally across the top of the old wooden box that it was housed in. Slightly tarnished when opened, she lovingly polished the whole silver set. The handles on the knives were lovingly worn, and one of the best feelings in the world was running my fingers across that old polished wood.
I mopped up the rest of the steak drippings with a bite of potato, wiped my mouth, folded my napkin, and set it on the tabletop.
Hale and Harrison left some cash on the table. I folded it into my wallet and put my card into the bill folder and handed it to the waitress. I didn’t like the feel of this money - plastic, fake, colorful, like it was pulled out of a board game.
0038: Assorted Board Games and Toys. Scrabble. Old versions of Trivial Pursuit. Risk. Monopoly games that lasted hours and hours, even though growing up we barely knew how to play.
I thought to myself, why don’t they use real money around here? I told Ginny that hers was on me. Ginny stuttered. I waved her off
0039: 3 Artificial Potted Trees. Ginny asked Dad once why he never kept plants in the house. It would give the White House more of a lively feeling, she said as she opened up the curtains and let light inside. What she didn’t know was that Dad could barely keep a plant alive.
We left and it was dark out. The street still looked like any street anywhere in America. We were just a short walk away from the hotel. I had to ask.
So what do you think of Australia so far, worth it?
Oh, well it seems nice enough so far.
0040: Assorted Trunks. Old style traveling trunks with a latch on the front. Mom used these as decorations in the living room, side tables by the couch. We fit one in the White House and stuffed the others with junk in the garage.
I laughed. Ginny looked at me.
I shook my head.
It was a good trip, but I think I would have been happy anywhere after the wedding.
0041: Australia-Themed Collectibles. It was the longest flight of my life to that point. My ex-wife wanted to see Australia so we went there on our honeymoon. I said I wasn’t going to do it again. It was a week of a beach that I could have seen in Florida. Just as crowded too. Why spend all the money to do something I could have done anywhere else?
0042: Decorative Knick-knacks. I thought that going as far as Wendy wanted to go would settle her down a little bit. Get it out of her system, but as soon as we got back, she was planning the next one. I said “Oh sure,” but I was hesitant. We were just starting out and I was looking to sock some away in savings for later, maybe start a retirement account finally.
0043: Curio Shelf Cabinet. I told all this to Mom and she said, “You know you always regret the things that you never did more than the things that you did.” At the time I thought I might regret not saving more for retirement. But I took that piece of advice and I said to Wendy, “OK let’s do Europe next time.” She was over the moon. It was good times, those first few months. And I had just gotten some tips on the new tech stocks. I was going to ride the new economy into the sunset. Me and Wendy, all the way to wherever life might lead us.
0044: Upright Vacuum. Like Dad ever cleaned. Ginny always came over and took care of the cleaning. The things that woman did for Dad in those last years. Mom always kept the old house tidy. If I remember right there were only carpets in the upstairs rooms, and downstairs we had long creaky floorboards that grew cold in the winter. The White House had all carpeted floors, except in the kitchen, oddly one of the selling points that we used to get him to move.
We got back to the hotel, and I reminded Ginny that we were going to meet at 9 so we could really make sure we got this thing done quickly and efficiently. We didn’t have much time to spare. Our flight was the morning after.
0045: Luggage Set. I didn’t want to play Dad’s game. Not right now. It was cute. Mom would have approved. She had always said that they would save up enough money to sell off the house and travel after retirement. “But you need money for that,” I reminded her. She nodded with fake sincerity and then said, “You know, dreams always have a way of shaking out in the end.”
0046: Women’s Travel Accessories Set. I had almost bought the tickets to Europe when I got the call from Dad about Mom. He said it almost matter of factly, as if it was the most normal thing in the world. “Your Mom has had a problem.” I remember his tone on the phone. He was in shock. I asked, “Is she in the hospital, is everything alright?” He sounded like he was distracted of all things. “She died. She’s gone.”
0047: Refrigerator and Freezer. The refrigerator is used but it works fine. The freezer is new and separate. God knows what’s inside and from when. I hope they clean it out before putting it up.
I opened a beer from the mini-fridge in the hotel room. I looked out the window and I looked down and I saw a strip mall across the street. What a pointless waste of time, I thought. I turned on the TV. It was the same kind of medical show as they played in the States.
0048: Assorted Telephones and Electronics. I remembered that after I got the call about Mom, I stormed into that hospital like nobody’s business. But nobody had answers. The doctors made it seem like it was a faulty piece of equipment. “A glitch,” they called it. I said, “I’ll show you a glitch.” And I showed them.
0049: Variety of Floral Vases. The next week was a blur. Hale and Harrison had come back in from college. They were always just showing up, taking credit for being there without ever actually being there. Without actually ever putting in the real work. At that moment I realized, hell I don’t know these people. Dad hugged them just the same, but I thought to myself that we were from two completely separate worlds. Did they even know Mom the way that I did? We had lived a whole life before they came along. I was married and had a job, and they were just getting started.
0050: Variety of Wicker Baskets. Wendy tried to console me. I told her that the travel was off, and she understood at first. I moved some money around. I had to get my things in order. I had to get everything on track. The economy at the time was going up pretty steadily.
0051: Coin Collection (incomplete) and Holders. Mom didn’t have much in the way of savings or even a lucrative job at the time. She was of the “do what makes you happy” camp, but what made her happy barely paid the bills - that was Dad’s domain. I wasn’t about to make that mistake. I had a family to take care of. I moved what I had into technology stocks. I watched the tickers shoot my money sky-high right away.
0052: Toys and Novelty Items. But it didn’t last. Like a firework, it was all boom and no substance. The economy began to deteriorate. I was told by all my people not to budge, that it was just a slight dip. But the dip got deeper and deeper.
0053: Vintage Collectibles. I hadn’t told Wendy that I had taken our savings and shot it right into the ground. I couldn’t. But every morning I woke up and looked at the Times and saw that my money had faded further away. Everything was crumbling - I had no family. I had no foundation. I had no direction. I was working, moving up, but I was losing money rapidly. I started drinking. I could tell that Wendy was growing uncomfortable. She didn’t know I needed to blow off steam.
0054: Trash Cans and Bins. Eventually I couldn’t face her anymore. My life had gone to s**t. I was in the red. I didn’t have a family. I didn’t have a life. I told Wendy as much. She confronted me one day, saying, “Don’t you think we are a family? You used to have big ideas, big dreams. I know you’re going through a hard time, and I’m here for you every step of the way. But maybe we just need to get away for a little bit.” I said, “No we cannot go anywhere else. There is no away. We are deep in it, I said, and you have no idea.”
0055: Vintage Tins. When I told her what had happened to the money, she sat there speechless. I had been greedy, she said. I told her, “I did this for us. I did this for you.” When she didn’t seem to get it, I snapped. I flipped a plate off the table. She got up quietly and left the house. But hey, at least we had been to Australia.
0056: Metal Filing Cabinet. Packed full of God-knows-what documents, yellowing and dusty. Dad always said, “I need those.” Whenever I asked him what the documents were he just said that they were important things. We couldn’t figure out what was so important about them when we went through it. Receipts, old manuals, taxes from years past. All of them jammed and bent in an order that only he could comprehend.
This f*****g place. These people. What in the world are you doing to me, Dad? This is like torture. Didn’t you know that? Is it payback for some old crime, some unpaid debt? I asked you if I needed to pay you back for the loan you gave me after I hit rock bottom, after all the stocks had disintegrated, after my wife left me, after I couldn’t afford a one-bedroom apartment on the edge of town. Surely, this is my punishment. My penance for every bad decision I made in life.
0057: Metal Storage Cases. It took a few years, and no help from Hale and Harrison. They didn’t know what was going on. Nobody really did, save for Dad and Wendy and the lawyers. But I did it eventually. And now here I was, in Australia again, still trying to pay back Dad, still trying to do for this family. I guess that’s the only thing that kept me going, that kept me here on the other side of the world, that prevented me from getting the refunds on the tickets that Hale and Ginny and already bought for the next leg, put on credit, waiting for the big payoff at the end. Yes, we’ll see this thing through.
0058: Vintage Bedroom Set. Much too big for the bedroom at the White House, but Dad insisted on it.
I sat on the bed and I laid back, the beer still working its way through my body. I took off my pants and got under the covers. I closed my eyes, missing Mom, missing Dad, missing Wendy, missing anybody.
0059: Pair of Wooden Rocking Chairs. Formerly from the big porch at the old house, and from those chairs we could look out at the big field outside by the house. I used to love sitting out on them, before they were old and slightly warped, back when I was a little kid, before my feet could always touch the ground, bouncing up and down and looking at birds flying in the fields outside. Mom took Hale and Harrison out on the porch when they were babies, singing to them while she rocked, and either Ginny or me would sit out there with them, back when having Hale and Harrison was still exciting. When we downsized, Ginny couldn’t bear to get rid of them, even though the White House didn’t have a porch, just a stoop, at the front of the house. So one sat in a bedroom as another sort of end table, a place where clothes would end up, and the other sat out in the little one-car garage out in the back.
S**t, I thought when I opened my eyes. It was still dark outside. It was 4:30 in the morning. I remembered the jet lag. Traveling all the way around to the other side of the planet has mostly downsides. The beaches, the food, the people are all mostly the same. The main difference? Waking up at the asscrack of dawn for no reason because your body thinks that it’s back at home.
0060: Golf Clubs and Bag. Dad tried to get into the game. He thought it might help him connect with clients. But he never was that good. Maybe I’ll take these. Could be a good reason to get out a little bit. But no, the body prefers to be at home. When I was here last time, Wendy pushed us to go to this place and that and all I wanted to do was take a nap.
0061: Assorted Ball Canning Jars. The one domestic thing that Dad liked to do was make jam. There was always one weekend of the year when he would disappear for a little while and come back with berries of all sorts. Strawberries, blueberries, blackberries, whatever was “on special” at the produce stand in town. Looking back I’m not sure what a special means at a produce stand. But for days after that there was the heat of steam and the smell like pie wafting throughout the house, getting into everything, staining the sleeves of whatever Dad was wearing at the time. Jelly for a whole year. Jelly for gifts. Jelly to bring to school for teachers. When Mom died, Dad stopped making it. He said it didn’t feel the same. But there was always jelly stored somewhere. Then at one point someone must have eaten the last jar of jelly. Probably without fanfare, without realizing it. When Dad moved into the White House, Ginny proudly brought all the old jars into the house and said, “Alright Dad, whenever you’re ready, we’re ready for it.” She tucked them under his bed. He just said. “They aren’t on special.”
I was hungry. I opened the mini-fridge. It was just beers. It was too early for room service. I turned on the TV and sat there, blank faced watching CNN, watching the stocks tick by on the streamer on the bottom of the screen. I wasn’t going to get into that mess again. I turned it off and lifted my bag from the floor onto the side of the bed.
0062: Bowling Ball and Bag. Bowling was more Dad’s speed. At least every month growing up we would go. He called it part of his good luck routine before the State game the next day. Sometimes we would even go to Beckett’s beforehand.
I opened my bag and took out the box of ashes that I had brought. Yes, this was our reason for coming here. This was the big silly mission that Dad decided to hoist on us.
0063: Assorted Glass Canisters. More things that haven’t been used in years, packed away, dusting in a box inside another box in the garage.
I had brought a set of 4 vials, sort of like test tubes, and I had stored them in a bunch of shirts in the side of my duffel bag. I uncorked the vials and held them in my hand for a Moment. I looked down at the big box of ashes, then back to the vials, then back to the ashes again.
0064: Spoon Collection. Mom’s special spoons, hung prominently in the kitchen in the old house, with five or six empty slots that she was saving for what she called some really good destinations. There was Niagara Falls on one, Gatlinburg on another. All these places where we took road rips growing up like little trophies mounted up on the wall. I couldn’t reach it for the longest time.
Suddenly this whole mission seemed incredibly hilarious. I actually laughed, standing there with 4 glass vials in my hand, about to separate Dad’s ashes on the other side of the world. Was this for real? Was this what he really wanted to do? Did anyone else find this whole concept incredibly stupid? And what was holding us here, forcing us to do this? Lawyers? Money?
0065: Glass Mixing Bowls. Like Dad ever needed a mixing bowl, let alone multiple glass ones.
Putting ashes into a small vial was more problematic than I considered. I put on a plastic glove and picked up some of the ashes, holding the glass vial over the box, then I tried to funnel some of the ashes down into the vial. About half made it in, and half sifted through my hands down into the box below.
0066: Assorted Linens. Sometimes I get the image of all of them fluttering on the line in the wind.
I reconsidered, and put an extra sheet under the box, then took the vial and stuck it directly into the ashes, trying to scoop it up like a shovel. This worked a little bit better. And there was one vial of the remnants, gray and meaningless, one piece of Dad, right there in my hands.
0067: Plastic Storage Containers and Tupperware. Anything you could store and reheat was Dad’s territory. Sometimes we would bring him some leftovers from home.
Again, I took the next glass vial and dipped it in the box of ashes. I filled it up, and then I filled up the other two, and then I corked all the vials and laid them on the bed. I resealed the box and put it back into the bag. And I sat on the side of the bed with the four vials of ashes in my hands.
0068: Wooden Crates. Things stored away in which to keep things stored away. Boxes of boxes, piled up in every spare inch of space of that house.
There was no way that this was Dad, not there in that box. Not there in those vials. He was so much more than that.
0069: Vintage Dresser. This had been stripped and refinished so many times. His clothes didn’t even fill up all the drawers, but there it sat taking up space in that little bedroom. I don’t know why he held on to it.
I got in the shower and rinsed off. It was going to be a long day. When I got out of the shower, I got dressed and put on a blazer over my shirt. I put the four vials of ashes in the inside pocket of the blazer. I looked back into the room, and I left and then closed the door.
0070: Computer Desk and Chair. A junky old desk made for a big old desktop computer that he never wanted to upgrade because he liked the one he had just fine.
It was 6 in the morning. Nobody was up in the lobby. Just the desk manager, getting the check-in counter ready for the day. I asked if he had a newspaper, and he handed me a copy of the Sydney Morning Herald.
0071: HP Desktop Computer and CPT Monitor Set. I don’t think they even make these anymore. Maybe we should just dump it.
Harrison came down from his room.
He laughed and sat down in the chair next to me. Harrison pulled out his laptop and stared at it for a little while.
0072: HP Printer. Towards the end, everything he printed came out with a big smear down the right side. And yet, those incomprehensible pages from Hale, those articles that he found on random sites from random corners of the Internet - they just kept on coming.
Harrison looked up from his laptop.
Oh, I’m just reading a few articles. Like you. But I can’t do the paper version any more. I have to have a bunch of tabs open. I jump between them and compare and contrast. Well, I guess you could say I have a little ADD.
He chuckled a little bit. Maybe that played in the newspaper world.
0073: Vintage Typewriter and Stand. This might get some action. Not like Dad ever typed anything up. One of his pickups from a garage sale from who knows where, from even before Mom passed. I can picture Mom rolling her eyes now. He always displayed it proudly where it could be noticed by anyone who came by.
I folded the paper up and put it on the side table. Harrison laughed again.
Yeah well you’re one of the last I imagine. Keeping more of my friends in a job.
Glad to help, the fake news needs it.
0074: VCR and VHS Tapes. Christ, who knows who uses these anymore.
I looked at him.
0075: Vintage Figurines. All of us had our little collections growing up, and even when our interest passed Dad always insisted that someday they could be worth something. It doesn’t seem that way.
Harrison continued.
You used to seem so happy. Growing up, you were the man. You played football until you had that injury, but then you went to college and it seemed so cool. Did you know that when I was working to get into college I just remembered your visits back here and how interesting it seemed. Mom always said she was so proud of you, and Dad always mentioned that you were going to do great things, and I just wanted… I just wanted to be you, when I was young that is.
Yeah well that was a long time ago. Things change.
0076: Teflon-coated Cookware and Stainless Steel Pans. Pretty nice ones too. Seems like they were used basically only for bacon and pasta.
He sucked his teeth.
No, things didn’t change, your response to them did. Before it just seemed like you were invincible, like you could do anything.
Harrison, you were just a kid then. Nobody’s invincible.
No, I guess not.
We sat quietly for a Moment after that.
0077: Folding Tables. Five or six of these were scattered around the house also. Never needed them for guests or anything. One card table was used to eat in front of the TV every once in a while, awkwardly too big for the space.
He suggested we move to the restaurant and get a coffee. We sat down in the middle of the room. I asked him why he decided to move so far away from home. He shook his head.
I cut in.
0078: Folding Chairs and Patio Chairs. So many chairs, not enough visitors.
You know, I have friends of my own out on the coast. I have my own life. I’m following my own interests, doing my own thing.
At the sacrifice of what? You were never around. We had to call you whenever something happened. You always had to come in from so far away, just so you could do what, go to a school where the leaves changed?
0079: Clocks. Two battery operated bird sound clocks (one not currently working), two digital alarm clocks, one wind up alarm clock, mantel clock, 2 plain wall clocks. There were so many damn clocks in that house, there wasn’t one quiet spot without all the clicking and ticking.
I was around plenty. I just didn’t see the point of sticking around waiting for something to happen, waiting for someone to get sick, waiting for people to die. I couldn’t do it. It was too depressing to me. Depressing to wait until everyone else’s life to be over for my own to begin.
0080: Binoculars and Telescope. We hadn’t used this stuff in years. Dad used to set up the telescope in the yard at the old house on a clear night. I can’t really remember the last time we used it but I can remember seeing Saturn’s rings blurry in the edge of the lens. When he was little, Harrison wanted the binoculars for looking at animals at one point so Dad kept them too, but I’m not sure Harrison even knows we still have them.
I reminded him.
Some would call that selfish.
At what time did I not make it, was I not there?
Were you there when Mom died?
He shot back.
Were you? I was just as much physically there with her in my dorm room across the country as you were a few minutes away. What good was it that you were that much physically closer? Did it stop her from dying, did it put off her death for any amount of time from when that electrical malfunction happened? Did it stop you from going off the rails after she died, from neglecting your marriage?
0081: Assorted Electrical Parts and Supplies. Junk. Parts. Odds and ends.
I pointed at him.
You have no idea what happened to my marriage.
You’re right, but would my having been there right next to you prevented that from happening?
You never reached out.
I never reached out? I was in college. I didn’t have my s**t together - I thought you did. You’re over 10 years older than we were. Do you really think that if I went to school over here that I could have helped you any more than I did? You never called me anyway. No, I didn’t think that I should put off my life, my existence as an individual person with my own hopes and dreams and ambitions, so that I could possibly be on call for you all right here, around the corner, so that I could wait for anything small to happen, for me to be a few hours, a few minutes closer than where I was.
0082: Upholstered Reclining Chair. Dad’s throne. His indentation still right down the middle.
I wanted him to realize what he was missing.
And Dad?
I was as much there as you were, I was as much sitting in that stupid chair in his living room, watching him as you were. I watched as much of that disgusting frothy puke as you were. Was it necessary for me to be in the room before all that happened for me to be any closer to him?
Some might say that. Some might say that you didn’t earn it. That you were able to swoop in at the end and get as much credit for helping out as Ginny and I, who were there visiting every week.
0083: Propane Tanks. Empty.
What credit? It’s not a contest of how much time we put in. I have so many of my own memories of Mom and Dad and the family and the old house and the old town. But you’re saying the time that I spent following my own desires, that I had the gall to do my own thing, to be my own person, makes me not as much of this family, that my memories are any less than yours because I wasn’t there, ready at a Moment’s notice for them to fade out of existence? No I choose for my connection to this family to go above and beyond that little town, to take the views our Mom and Dad instilled in us at whatever age out into the world and to let them be the most they can be. And I could never have done that there if I chose time spent with my family over time spent allowing my upbringing to blossom into something that it never could have been back there in Nowheresville. And I don’t appreciate the insinuation that I didn’t contribute enough to my family because I wasn’t there to sit and eat with them once a week. Because I didn’t sit there and wait. Because I chose to make something of myself and this family’s name.
0084: Outdoor Gas Grill and Grilling Utensils Set. Gunk caked on it. On a good day, he would come out with his t-shirt and cook up some sausages. You could see the smoke rising up behind the house as you drove in. Fourth of July. Good times.
I got where he was coming from, but that didn’t take away the fact that connection counts for something, that this magical spiritual connection to the world that he was talking about didn’t count for all that much in my book. That his memories with the family ended after college, that the rest of his memories all involve something happening to the family. He said it himself. Just like Hale - valuing their own concerns over the little things, the good times, and they lost that for themselves.
0085: Coffee Maker and Assorted Mugs. Both Mom and Dad had several cups a day, not strong, but just something to sip on throughout the day. A habit from our grandparents probably.
The sun was up now, finally, and I decided to get an early jump on breakfast. I was getting a little jittery from the coffee. Harrison, to his credit, hadn’t gotten up and left like he always did.
It caught me off guard, since it just flew right in the face of everything that he just said.
In a way it took a lot to be there, to give up so much to give yourself. In a way, I think that both of us, you and me are just doing our own thing for our family. It’s all for the family, both ways.
I cheersed his mug and downed the rest of the coffee I had in there, slightly cool in the bottom of the mug.
0086: Coffee Table. On its side in the garage, a plate of glass scratched up and placed next to it. We didn’t have room in the White House, but like so many other things we kept it “just in case.”
Shortly after, Hale came down, yawning. She was wearing the most ridiculous outfit I had ever seen. Her shoes, made of some kind of cloth, were tied up around her calves. She yawned and sat at the table.
0087: Middle Eastern and Asian Art. Some of this actually made it to the wall. More from Hale’s vacations. Much of it weird.
Harrison turned toward her.
Jet lag getting you down?
I couldn’t sleep at all last night, but it doesn’t really matter does it, We’re just turning back around and heading back tomorrow right?
0088: Microwave Cart and Microwave. Definitely well used.
I looked back at my paper, trying not to acknowledge her clown costume.
Like I said Haleigh, my trip, my rules. We are in and out. We’re just doing this to finish this thing for Dad. And I’m not going to get into it with you right now, not today. We just need to wait for Ginny, and then we could even get an early jump on our task for the day. Have you seen her?
0089: Kitchen Assortment. More odds and ends. Country themed knick knacks. Salt and pepper shakers. Napkin holders. Multiple paper towel holders. All of it unnecessary.
She just shook her head no and got up to get a coffee. Harrison watched Hale walk across the room and then turned back to me.
You know it wouldn’t kill us to have a look at some of the things around in the places that we are going to.
No, we should keep it lean and and quick as possible - no use in spending any more than we have to, especially if we have no idea how much we’ll even be getting out of this.
Harrison nodded his head slowly.
0090: Cooking and Baking Utensils. One box in the kitchen. One box in the garage.
I laughed.
Well I guess we’ll see what nonsense that Hale and Ginny get us into, but for my legs of the trip it’s in and out as much as possible, like I said. You just worry about your story there. How’s it going, by the way?
Hard to say for this leg without having seen much other than this hotel and Outback Steakhouse and whatever we passed on the way from the airport last night. I’m going to have to supplement it with some deep insights into our personal relationships. What do you say, do you have any deep insights, Check?
He snorted, and opened his laptop.
0091: Ceramic Cookie Jar and Towel Shelf. At the old house it was always full, at least half way. Baking was a hobby for Mom, even when she was working. And when she couldn’t sleep she baked. Dad kept the old cookie jar and filled it with Chips Ahoy. The old folded printed towels almost stiff in their folded position. The shelf was never hung.
Haleigh came back with a coffee and a croissant, and she didn’t say much after she sat down. She slouched back into her chair and closed her eyes a little bit. Then we heard running across the hallway. It was Ginny. She was breathing hard.
0092: Assorted Plastic Tableware and Plates. With most of the china packed away Dad mostly used the plastic plates, and there were knife marks in some of the plates and places where the side was slightly melted from being too close to the stove. Mom never liked to use plastic plates, and we always sat at the table when we were all together. We kept a set of plastic for picnics out in the field.
I put my hand up to stop her.
Harrison smiled.
Hale opened her eyes.
0093: Picnic Items. Basket, plastic shakers, little things that made picnics seem like a special activity.
We all ate a light breakfast, and the sun rose through the window on the far end of the lobby. Ginny had calmed down a little bit. She apologized for freaking out, and she said it was just first time travel jitters. After a time of not speaking much to each other I got up.
Haleigh put on some sunglasses.
0094: Dining Table and Set of Six Wooden Chairs. Upside down in the garage. Like the coffee table, it didn’t fit in the White House. The last time we sat in the old dining room all together as one family was when Harrison and Hale were graduating high school.
I called us a taxi, and when it pulled up we all crammed inside, once again stuffed inside a car, physically closer than we had been since we were all kids.
0095: Automotive and Garage Tools. That old car. Mom ran it into the ground, running me around to games and practices and Ginny to her music and then Hale and Harrison to all the things that we had already all outgrown. It was like they had to start over from the beginning, just when we were getting to the good part.
The cab driver turned around.
America, same as here. Miles and miles of squat buildings, warehouses, single family homes, lawns, midrise buildings, apartments, it’s all the same kinds of things as home. Green signs, yellow paint on the road. Traffic, just here it’s on the wrong side of the road. Passing it all by on the way to what? To accomplishing what? To seeing what? A building? Water. Restaurants. People dressed in the same clothes. The turn signal blinks off and on. Silence in the car as we enter a downtown area of metal buildings, old brick, high walls. Silence. Dad if you wanted us to come together in some way why would it be like this?
0096: Blood Pressure Monitor. We got it when we noticed Dad’s health problems and we mentioned it to the doctor. That doctor. He said it was just normal old age stuff. Keep an eye on the blood pressure, on the fat intake, on the salt, on the exercise. Dad didn’t care about any of the stuff you could actually control, but he did take his blood pressure each and every day. The only routine he stuck to wasn’t it?
We sat quietly in the traffic, watching as cars inched by us as we made our way closer to the harbor. Harrison stopped us from going any further, growing irritated by the traffic. We paid the driver and he still sat there unable to move, and we walked up the sidewalk past the rows of concrete buildings, parked cars, people on their way to work. If this was Haleigh’s idea of a cultural experience then she could have it all she wanted. I should have just had us spread the ashes at the airport and turned back around.
0097: Household Hardware. Dad always fancied himself to be a handyman, but he almost always called in help.
Finally, we had reached the water, and we saw the wide arch of the Sydney Harbor Bridge reaching out across the water, a chunk of iron and stone that reminded me of the ceiling of a meatpacking warehouse. I laughed to myself. Hale turned around.
That was one way to put it. Ginny seemed to agree.
0098: Collection of Sea Shells. The beach. The one big trip we made every year growing up. Always to the same place, a little condo facing not out to the water but off to the side at another condo. We didn’t care. We stopped our membership when Hale and Harrison were still in school, when I was still in college, but before Ginny dropped out. The shells stayed in a bowl in the bathroom until they too were packed away.
And then Ginny gasped. Standing across the water was the Sydney Opera House, its white shells unfolding like sails in the harbor. It took me back - Wendy and I standing in front of the harbor, asking people nearby to take our picture. They had the Olympics there some time before, and our bags got delayed at the airport, forcing us to buy t-shirts and pants with that goofy Olympic logo on them. Smiling. I hadn’t felt that happy in a long time.
0099: Pair of End Tables. Just a couple of thrift store end tables that we picked up when we moved Dad into the White House. Always strewn with random items from Dad’s pockets. Oddly one of the things I noticed on that last day when Dad was in really bad shape was an old silver dollar. It was one of the vivid memories I had from that day.
Hale shouted up to us.
We waited, and she took a picture in the same spot at multiple angles. I started to move towards the harbor.
0100: Solid Stained Wood Bookcase. For some reason the bookcase was never used for books. It was always frames, knick knacks, things that all of us found, a couple of shells, a medal from school. There was a point at which Mom wanted me to teach Hale how to read. She was behind in school, preferring to draw. I had a life - I was in high school and since we had a little sister, now Mom and Dad had leverage, extra chores for us to do before we could go out. Even then it was a chore to get Hale to do something productive with her life.
They ran after me. I patted the vials in my jacket pocket, still there. They were getting heavier in my jacket pocket, an odd sensation, walking along the waterfront with all these businesspeople, all these picture taking tourists, and here I was with my dead father’s ashes in my coat pocket, split into 4 little glass vials. Had anyone done this before? I turned around and shouted at the others.
0101: Wall Unit with Metal Shelves. This one stuck out from all the other wooden shelving in the living room in the White House, but by the time we got it, a lot of the furniture was mismatched anyway. It was another shelf filled with junk, collectibles from different places, all stacked in front of each other.
Hale and Ginny had each taken dozens of pictures by this point, all of the water, of the buildings, of the buildings on the water. What were they going to do with all these pictures of buildings? We inched our way closer to the Opera House. I remembered my last time here with Wendy, us inching our way up the waterfront, kissing each other every few steps in our ridiculous Olympics t-shirts, a simpler time, before everything else went crazy.
0102: Assorted Books and Low Bookshelf. Mostly Mom’s old books. She loved to read old travel books, the kind in hardbacks with titles like Arabian Sands and Furthest North, thick titles that looked like they had never been read before, at least not in this lifetime. Dad liked the easier ones, your Michael Crichton or Dan Patterson, the ones that people actually read. Mom’s and Dad’s books could always be distinguished from each other because Mom’s were always on the top shelf for some reason, and Dad’s were always on the bottom. Even though he was much taller than Mom and the bookshelf was just one of those low ones that could be placed next to a tv stand, the kind that you have to bend over to get into. Later, it was just a stand for frames, and all the books just collected dust.
Finally, we stood right under the white domes of the Opera House. Hale wanted to take some artsy photos. I stood behind her as she framed the tops of the Opera House against the blue sky, the same picture, slightly different angles each time. I rolled my eyes and sighed.
Are we going to do this or what?
Some of us haven’t been here before, Check. Go wait over there if you don’t want to be here.
0103: Laundry Cabinet and Basket. Everything Mom did was organized, all the laundry things organized just so, the folding impeccable. Everything smelling like the wind outside.
Pictures and more pictures. Hale stretching her arms out between two sections of the Opera House, close ups of the white tiles, doors, a sideways shot by the stairs. We must have been there almost an hour. I watched as a flock of birds flew up from the docks, circled and came back down to the ground, like one single mass leaving and returning each time, a blanket being lifted off a bed and dropped back onto it, over and over again.
0104: Storage Cabinet. More and more storage all throughout the house, all of it stuffed full with the same stuff.
A cruise ship stood massively on the other side of the harbor, more and more people streaming off of it, all of them coming to take the same pictures. I impatiently patted the vials by my chest.
0105: Industrial Metal Shelves. Boxes on shelves. The old wooden shelves in the garage were sagging, so we had them replaced.
We all walked together to the railing by the waterfront, the Opera House tall behind us, and the water from the harbor below us, at the bottom of ten feet of concrete. The water lapped softly against the concrete wall below us. I took out the vials and handed one to each of my siblings. We leaned on the railing, looking down, all of us unsure about how to proceed.
0106: Autumn Décor. In its own unopened box on the shelves in the back of the garage. Old fake leaves. A scarecrow. Mom decorated for every season. Along with the Thanksgiving china came the fall decorations. I missed it. My favorite time of year.
Ginny looked concerned,
We’re just going to do it with all these people around?
I don’t see any other way. We’re here aren’t we? There’s not many discreet places around, at least none that I can see.
We can try to do it together, I guess that will make it faster.
Hale spoke up.
0107: Easter and Spring Décor. Mom would giggle and say new beginnings as she hung the spring decorations and hid Easter eggs around the house. Many of them would already be found by the time Easter rolled around. I think she did it that way on purpose.
We all uncorked our vials of ashes and held them out over the rail. Ginny shouted.
She moved the vial back towards her body.
She put the vial between her hands like she was praying.
0108: Vintage Christmas Ornaments. A box for each of the four of us. The survivors after years of adding and replacing over the years.
Now Hale was growing impatient.
I elbowed her and we both made the same motion as Ginny. Ginny closed her eyes and whispered a prayer to herself. A tear came down from her closed eye, but Harrison and Hale and I kept our eyes open, just watching. She opened her eyes and nodded. We went back to the railing and dumped the ashes off the side and into the harbor below.
0109: Christmas Outdoor Décor. Not many people drove by the old house, set off from the road, but Mom and Dad insisted that the house always be decked out for Christmas. They wanted the house to be seen.
A few people stared at us as we looked down at the place where we dropped the ashes, and when I looked back at them, they looked away hurriedly. I thought - judge all you want, people. I’m here for a different reason.
0110: Snowblower. A chore, pushing that thing up and down the driveway. The driveway was much shorter at the White House.
I had expected the scene to be more dramatic, but the ashes simply faded into the air, and some floated on the surface of the water before quickly being overtaken by the small choppy waves. We sat there and watched the ashes sink into the water. Harrison looked over.
Ginny nodded.
0111: Assorted Christmas Décor. Every inch of the house seemed to be covered at the height of the season. And when it was all done, we all sat in the living room and listened to “Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas,” all of us on the couch arm in arm looking out at the soft lights on the tree, taking in the smell in the house. Warmth pouring from the fireplace into the room.
I turned and started walking back up the dock, and Harrison joined me. Hale took a picture off the back of the harbor, down to the place where we dropped the ashes. Ginny took one last look and then ran to catch up with us. She put her arms around us in a sort of walking hug, the same kind that Mom and Dad would give us as we walked back to the car after a fun day out, shepherding us back toward the car, all of us with the same motion, tall short, older younger. It didn’t matter then, and it felt right now. And right then I felt it was the right time to tell them about the sale.
0112: Artificial Christmas Tree. We had exactly zero real trees after Hale and Harrison went to college, and especially not after Dad moved.
Ginny took her arms down and stopped.
What do you mean? What is happening with the house and the things?
Well, this is as good a time as any. To do this, we’re going to need all the money we can get. I hired an auctioneer to collect and sell all the things in the White House. The sale is already going live. Looks like a good reaction already.
0113: Fireplace Tools and Screen. We should have gotten rid of this a long time ago. There wasn’t even a fireplace in the White House.
Ginny was crying again already.
Hale of all people spoke up.
You know he’s right, we’re going to need all the help we can get to finish this thing.
You have no idea what you’re talking about. You didn’t ask. Why didn’t you just ask?
I knew this exact situation would happen sooner or later. She continued.
0114: Shoe Care Set. Who polishes shoes anymore? Hopefully someone.
I reminded her what I always said.
Harrison shook his head.
I chuckled.
0115: Rolling Shopping Cart. When Dad brought this back I asked him if he was homeless. He said he picked it up at a sale. I asked him if it was to pick up more junk. It probably was.
Ginny was sitting on the steps.
The right track? We’re not even in the right country. We’re on the other side of the world and Dad’s whole life is disappearing right as we speak.
Oh don’t be so dramatic. If you want some of the things, just say so. Then we can just take it down or buy it back or whatever.
0116: Audio speakers. Like all the other things, old and unused and stuffed in a corner of the garage.
Hale patted Ginny’s back.
She pulled me to the side.
You know, I agree with you. We don’t need so much of that crap. It’s better to move on. I think it will be better for Ginny, for all of us, eventually.
0117: GE Dish Washer. I might actually hold on to this one.
I was surprised.
Are you actually on my side on this?
Yeah, like you said, all the help we can get. Let’s get rid of as much as we can. Ginny will get the important things. I’ll give her some of my share of the money so she can buy back whatever she wants from the sale.
Are you sure you want to do that?
Yeah don’t worry about it. You can even tell her we all got the same amount, just tell her that’s the way it balanced out.
0118: Upholstered Chair. Stuffed into a corner. The old pattern on it dated. It was a part of the view in the old living room and it just felt like it needed to be in the White House too.
Ginny was still crying when we came back to the steps. We both extended an arm and she took them and we helped her up.
0119: Upholstered Sofa. An extra sofa, unneeded, dusty.
Hale nodded.
I know.
I just need some time for this. I can’t lose all of the things, not all at the same time.
Let’s go grab something to eat.
I waved down a taxi on the side of the road, and we got in and headed back to the hotel.
0120: Work Bench. Sometimes Dad would play around on this with some of the tools that he only sparingly used. He picked up new tools every once in a while. They always ended up on the bench. We figured if it made him happy then why not.
We ate at a place near the hotel, a place that Hale suggested. I didn’t order any of her vegan crap, but the place we went wasn’t half bad. Ginny told us about Vick and the kids, and we just let her talk. We all decided it was best to try to sleep early. I had booked us into a morning flight back to America, in and out, just like I said we would.
0121: Bathroom Accessories. More junk, a lot of it. Hopefully it sells. I got ready for bed and looked at myself in the mirror. Stubble on my face, wrinkles that I hadn’t noticed had grown so deep before. I washed up my face and headed back to lay down on the bed. I leaned my head back on the pillow and closed my eyes. I thought back to that Moment, that snowy night in my unheated apartment on the phone. I said, “Dad I need help.” He said, “I’ll be right there.” I missed Mom. I missed Wendy. I missed everything. He came to the house and said, “Whatever you need son.” I had never heard him say anything like it before.
0122: Riding Lawnmower. Usually, especially growing up, there were always some strings attached, some sort of payback scheme. To get my first car, he put me on an installment plan that stretched over five years - 100 dollars a month for 5 years. I was still paying that damn thing off after that junker was scrapped.
0123: Wooden Jewelry Armoire and Box. But in that Moment, the most pathetic of my life, he had said, “Whatever you need son.” He would later sell off a few things from the old house. He said he had some of his parents’ things stored away and could scrape together enough to get me through a bind, to get me started again. Only later he told me that the items that he put up for sale included Mom’s wedding ring, band, and some expensive jewelry that she wore on special occasions.
0124: Assorted Medical Equipment (Includes folding walker, wooden cane, commode grab bars, shower bench). Barely used.
Yes, it was a big gift, the biggest I had ever received in my life. I said, “What would Mom think? You can’t just do that to y’all’s things.” And he said, “They’re just things, son. It’s just things.”
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