Pardon me all if I go on and vent a little.
Last question first - not really but what I found and where (in the date-range of that layer) gives me hope. Best case scenerio - we get enough from contents of value to basically give the house to a family member living there. (don’t ask - at that point it gets confusing and not real pretty. Someone living in squalor wishing to continue to do so.)
First question - its a God-given talent I wish I didn’t have. I have this knack of being able to find “whats important” in a pile of things. Sometimes its important on a physical/financial level and sometimes its more from an emotional level. I come from a family that was basically nomadic in the Old Country, lost in the White Revolution, and tended to hide things. Be it money or emotions, we always seemed to have someone wanting to take our “stuff” so even a generation afterwords we tend to be “guarded”. Add to that I’ve always been a bit of a coin collector and the last 15 years a professional numismatist; I have heard every story about beds full of cash and frozen turkeys full of jewelry to know all the good places to check. Trust me; had I had children their stash of weed would have NEVER been safe.
The first time I got to use my talent (I was a teenager then) was when a cousin committed suicide in his home via a shotgun to the chin. Myself and another cousin had to clean out the place, prepare it for sale, and recover possessions of his wife and kids as well as his ----- possessions that would help some day remember the happy times at least a little and allow them to move on. But not cover them in bulk their emotions couldn’t handle. In their case, after the death, entering the house was impossible for them and even seeing some things hurt. I must have done a good job; I still get a nice note from the kids every Christmas and a little gifty thing every birthday.
Not so long ago is was my in-laws house. They weren’t your traditional hoarders; more standard Depression Era. Few hundred mason jars, few dozen lawnmowers Popsi had plans to fix “some day”. Few hundred pounds of “scrap paper” to make notes on. The kids grew and moved out and the rooms just sort of filled and filled and filled. After all, they “had the space” which in the end included the steps and hallways too. As they aged they had to do one of two things - clean down or go to a nursing home. Just moving from place to place was a risk and when Muvver got sick one night the paramedics had to carry her to the first floor to put her on the gurney - it wouldn’t fit around all their stuff. Doing it themselves — well, they just couldn’t. But I could. And I found dearly missed photos and other things they had forgotten they had - things they cherished having back in their lives, And I found some forgotten stashes of cash; and sometimes cash can mean freedom and choices. It was a slow process - 10 bags this week, 20 next week, none for a couple weeks. But it made them safe and able to live on their own and for Muvver to continue even after Popsi died. And it made my wife feel good.
I found, for Popsi, his fathers wallet just as he had brought it home from the hospital the night his father died with the money and cards and all still inside. And for that he thanked me every week from then until his death. (It’s in our safety deposit box now) What I did my wife claims kept them independent at least 5 years longer than her wildest dream and saved her the “nursing home” fight.
In between have been a dozen houses or so. Different kinds and different situations but a like theme - things taking control. Some were relatives houses and some not. And one barn full of great stuff that literally fell down around me before I was totally finished. But we saved the farm.
This one; this one comes from being active in church. Our Pastor knew a secretary at another church who had agreed to be executor for a single friend 40-some years ago. And when her friend died and she learned she was still executor ---- and what she was executor of ---- the lady about died herself. Literally; she went to the hospital with chest pains and in distress. Pastor asked me to help and as Swampy can attest, telling Pastors you work with no isn’t easy.
There are four “relatives of the deceased” none of whom are any help, lots of debt, and one who would like the house but isn’t willing to do anything to earn it or help make it his. Honest - I know from him and his siblings that he’s living in two of the rooms but I can’t tell you which ones; they are all equally bad. I do know he has no attachment or desire to use the first floor or basement which is why I am starting there. Trying to give him some time to realize that “something” is going to be done one way or another. Some day I may need to get to the rooms around “his” – that part could turn ugly. Usually my rule has been to stick to empty houses; Muvver and Popsi were one of two exceptions. Its easier when its just the walls and you.
I GOT TIME OUT BUT WANT TO FINISH THIS BEFORE I LOG IN AND SUBMIT IT
Swampy wrote “Mind you, I’m glad it’s you and not me but I look forward to tales of found woundrous treasures.”
I will her and there as I can and feel the need. In a way I’m glad its me and not you. Here in Yankeeland we got silverfish and some bugs but short of rotten food and cockroaches (I don’t do food-strewn places full of cockroaches) we ain’t got nuttin like the bugs ya’ll got. Some of them would creep me right out!
Whats the old saying? We expand to fill any space we’re given? Hoarders and American Pickers show the Readers Digest Condensed version of when that happens. The full length version is human enough that if you get a chance to help, you just do.
) then finished by making an eensy little penguin. I need to make patterns of penguin parts - I think I can sell them, especially if I decorate them in team colors or just have fun with them - like pink or green instead of black. Or reversing the black and white. Or striped or spotted… I foresee a fun craft show next year!
