So Many Memories…All Could Be Yours For the Right Price…

We’re finally doing this…after years of threatening to do it, the wife and I are finally having a yard sale…or is it a garage sale?…and what the heck is the difference anyway?…

We’ve finally decided that we don’t need 3600 square feet of house on a one acre yard, so we’re finally putting this dump and just about all of its contents up for sale…all offers, reasonable or unreasonable, will be considered…make our stuff your stuff to sell at your own garage sale in the future…

My wife has been threatening to have one of these for so long our garage is bursting at the seams with all of our unwanted and or slightly damaged home goods…our out of style and ill-fitting clothes that most normal people wouldn’t get caught dead in…and some things that serve absolutely no purpose in a normal functioning household…these things and more could be yours on Saturday, June 23rd at what could be the biggest yard sale of the day in SE Pennsylvania…I know, I’ve got you hooked, am I right?…

If I had my druthers we’d sell it all and flee with the proceeds to Florida, but…the Mrs. ain’t quite ready to do that yet…she still feels as if she can make a contribution to society…I on the other hand, stopped believing that on my 18th birthday when I started my new job at the sewer plant shoveling the byproduct of all the incoming sewage and the required separation of solids from all that incoming sewage…yep, I shoveled sh*t…but that’s okay, I made a lot more money than all my friends who were working at McDonalds…

D57B78F8-5967-4CD5-810D-3AFC19BE2DEDThe hardest part of getting ready for this yard sale is trying to decide what goes and what stays, do we sell off my wife’s old high school cheerleading megaphone…the fact that we still have that tells you how difficult it will be for her to part with it…she’s 57 years old for crap sakes…

…do we get rid of my now 18 year old hockey practice jerseys?…my sticks?…

…maybe those, but never my jerseys from Flyers Dream Week in Montreal…in Canada…

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…and what about my LEGO Star Wars Tie Fighter?…all 1,684 pieces of it…it was supposed to be 1685, but they shorted me one piece from the set…those bastards…okay, the Yoda can go, not the Tie Fighter though…geez, it’s dusty up there in the Star Wars Universe…

 

how about my collection of Hess trucks?…

…or my 4 copies of the Captain America Dies comic book that I bought on eBay?…

…my Boy Scout patches from troops in different councils around the country…surely they will be worth something someday…

…Or all of my HO scale trains…had some of them since I was a kid…can’t just give them away at some yard sale…can I?

…what about our kids and all of their toys?…their only in their twenties, they might want to still play with them someday…if we get rid of them, all they’ll have left is a bunch of broken crayola crayons and half-colored-in coloring books to keep them occupied…

So, as you can see, we have a lot of gut wrenching decisions to make this week…all of which will be followed by the sad chore of trying to find a place to get rid of all our stuff that nobody bought at the sale…followed by the even sadder chore of packing up all of remaining memories and getting ready to move…

…that’s it, I’ve got to call this thing off before someone gets hurt…

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The Return of Darth Neighbor

Yes, the name Darth Neighbor is a cheap rip-off of Star Wars evil-doer Darth Vader, but when I was swinging plastic light sabers in the back yard against my 6-year old son and the neighbor kid, I was usually forced to represent the Dark Side of the force. No problem, we all know Lord Vader had the highest Midichlorian count in the Star Wars universe, so it stands to assume the Dark Side would have ruled my neighborhood as well.

Always cast as the villain, I created a dark Star Wars persona of my own, that of Darth Neighbor, the ultimate power not only in my back yard, but possibly in all of the Providence Ridge housing development.

My own interest in Star Wars ended with Return of the Jedi and the destruction of the second Death Star, however the release of The Phantom Menace inspired a new generation of fans in the franchise (not me though), and inspired the galactic battles that raged in my yard after I got home from work. And of course, only after those little Jedi nuts had finished any homework assignments for the day.

The battles usually took less time than it took the Millenium Falcon to complete the Kessel Run, were always un-choreographed, usually just me chasing a couple of pint-sized wannabe Jedi Knights around the yard, through swing sets, around bushes and trees, between cars, whatever obstacle they could run around or hide behind. But unlike Star Wars, in the universe called my back yard, the Dark Side always prevailed.

Just as Old Ben Kenobi had buried the memories of his days as Obi-Wan, I also forgot about my days as the ass-kicking Darth Neighbor. Until this year, when my daughter reminded me of those days when she sent me my personalized magic band for my trip down to see her at Disney World.

Now, don’t get me wrong, Katie is like a Star Wars historian, but she’s also a pretty good athlete. And she knew the one way to guarantee my attention was to pull out the hockey net and it wouldn’t be long before I showed up. To her credit, she also padded up and laced on her roller blades for those father/daughter games in our driveway; so how could I ignore that much effort? 

When my son and the neighbor kid played, the games deteriorated into watching two Tasmanian Devils hitting the ball everywhere but at the net. It was their own out-of-control brand of “dump and chase” hockey, and like two Unmoored ships in a hurricane, they crashed into each other often and knew no boundaries of any kind, and it went on until one of them slashed the other hard enough in the shins or on the hand with their stick. This usually sent the aggrieved party home or back in the house for first aid or to have a sandwich and a glass of milk or some damn thing, leaving just my daughter “Skates” and me to practice our slap shots and our triple deeks.

And when that box with the magic bands arrived, she also reminded me of the times when father/daughter fun was spent just shooting pucks at a net in my driveway…just the two of us.