My user name describes how I deal with life. I weigh the degrees of disruption that anything might cause me and adjust accordingly. The higher on the scale the more I try to eliminate it from my life. This is a story where this struggle came out in my favor.
My father passed away in 1977 leaving my mother blind and very ill. She managed to stay in their home they had been in for 45 years for another 5 years before it became necessary to move her into an assisted-living apartment. Three of her four children gathered to accomplish this task. It was not easy.
In the first place Mom really didn’t want to move. She resented having to part with all of her things she had amassed. We held a 2-day garage sale. She insisted on sitting in the middle of it and “presiding”. She was blind. She really didn’t know who was there unless they talked to her. She didn’t know what they were buying. At the end of day 2 we still had more things left than we wanted to deal with, so we marked “FREE” on them and still had things left. Those eventually went to the trash heap. Mom never knew that thank goodness. We told a few white lies to cover it up.
The bigger items from the house that she couldn’t take to her apartment were divided up amongst those of us helping. My brother’s son came with a large cart and took away the piano, china hutch, and freezer. My sister took the over-sized cream-colored leather recliner. I planned on taking nothing home with me. It was a 7 hour drive for me and I didn’t want to haul anything in my Cherokee. Then it came to this item:
This was an old oak table that my 2nd-oldest brother cut down in height to be a coffee table in shop class back in the 1950’s. He refinished it and was very proud of it. Mom loved this table. She always insisted when she could not longer use it, she wanted him to have it. My brother lives about 1000 miles away and was not one of the gathered dismantlers. It had to go. My sister didn’t have room. My brother didn’t have a way to haul it. It did fit in my Cherokee. Did I mention this thing weighed a ton? So guess where it sits today? In my basement family room.
Secretly I think everyone wanted that table. We can all remember our children crawling over and under it. Some of the scars on it have very specific stories. Whenever my sister hinted that she wanted it, I always stood up for the brother taking it who remade it for Mom. I would have loved owning it also, but the family feud resulting would have been immense. I weighed the disruption degree and let it go. So how in the hell did I end up with it? Once again it was that disruption scale. It seemed to be the best option to just take it. Mom still insisted it go to my brother. I agreed and called him. He was thrilled (not to have to travel to retrieve it) that it would stay in the family and that seemed to satisfy Mom. So it sits in my basement until he gets it or one of his children decides they want it. I truly believe it will end up in my daughter’s family room one day. She, I’m sure, will be keeping it safe until a claiming from afar.