A Old School trip to the dump.

Which begins at home when you wake up on a Saturday morning and decide to clean the garage up a bit and take the last week or so's worth of accumulated trash and haul it off. You stuff all of the trash into either the bed of our pickup or the trunk of the family car and it's off to the dump you go.

It's 9:30 am.

To the dump, to the dump, to the dump, dump, dump. Sung to the tune of the William Tell Overture.

You arrive, back up, unload, and look around a bit. Then you empty your trash.

 The place is a little smelly but your eye has caught a coil of what looks to be pretty good rope and you remember you were headed to the hardware store for a coil of rope about that size to use to tie down a couple of shees of plywood to your roof rack or use on the upcoming tree surgery. 

As you pick up the rope you notice a ceramic jug someone likely threw out by accident. It'll look good on the front porch. You snag that one.

Just then John Dalster comes in with his trash and two kids. John empties his trash while his kids start running around checking things out and being kids. It's been a month since you've run into John and he's always fun to chat with. He sees you looks at the treasures you've accumulated and grins. THe pair of you mosey over to his pickup and he hands you a cold one out of the cooler in his pickup. It's a little early but what the hell.

Dave Thomas arrives and John hands him a beer and Dave lets you know about what the clowns at City Hall are up to and you make a note to call and register an opinion with the alderman.

John's kids return from their running around with a couple treasures and throw them into the back of the pickup. As they do you see Sarah Wither drive up. She's almost 80 now and pretty spry and a real trip. She buried her husband about fifteen years ago and seems to have weathered widowhood well. She often acts cranky but is hilarious and a pretty good person to get to know. Besides knowing just about everything about everybody she dropped by with a casserolle every night when your wife was in the hospital.

You cringe in a way because you just know that Sarah is just going to say something outrageous and you don't want to bust up and offend her. Sarah quickly dumps her trash and walks over uninvited to John's truch and helps herself to a beer and comments that John is still drinking that cheap Pabst Blue Ribbon and ought to upgrade.

John grins and says he has been drinking PBR for twenty years. 

Sarah spots a flower pot with a chip in it and scarfs that up and comments that if nobody helped themselves to goodies at the dump the place would have been filled up twenty years ago. Everyone chuckles. You look at the stuff in your truck, notice what John's kids have recovered and realize her statement has merit. A lot of stuff IS leaving.

Sarah lets you know that the family three down from you is having hard times and you make a note of that. He's a pretty good carpenter and you had planned on redoing your bathroom next month. A quick mental check says you can afford to start the project next weekend and although you had planned on doing it yourself, you realize you ought to get a little help. You make a mental note to drop by his place on the way home. It won't put the guy's kids through college but ought to feed them for a week or so. You know anything helps.

Dave Thomas says he'll drop off some venison. He know the family will appreciate it. 

Dave Thomas turns to you and asks to borrow your chain saw and you agree to it. Every time Dave borrows something he returns it in better shape than it was when you gave it to him. Unlike Louie Swindell who practiclly destroyed your lawn mower a couple years back and just stuffed it back in your garage. Louie had a lot of gall getting upset when you refused to lend it to him the following weekend. Actually it is your fault in a way. Sarah had warned you Louie was like that.

John mentions that he's looking for a brand new used car for his wife. Nobody has any ideas but everyone offers to keep their ears open. He's computer illiterate and you and Sarah make a mental note to check Craigslist.  

You look at your watch, finish your now warm beer and take your leave, arriving home a little after noon. 

It's been a profitable morning.





Of course, if you have moved to, say, North Carolina from New Jersey you just can't figure out why the locals live that way. My advice to you is to stay in New Jersey until you figure it out. Once you do you'll probably find yourself accepted a lot faster if you do figure it out and decide that is what you want. If you don't want it, don't move there.



To find out why the blog is pink just cut and paste this: http://piccoloshash.blogspot.com/2009/12/my-feminine-side-blog-stays-pink.html NO ANIMALS WERE HARMED IN THE WRITING OF TODAY'S ESSAY