They stood in formation, like sentinels guarding a castle, in their brown, green, or gray uniforms. By nightfall they would be pillaged, many toppled, left in disarray. Their treasures looted, swallowed up by a large mechanical robot, controlled by a human person without heart. Now the master of the castle completed the weekly ritual. Each sentinel was returned to his or her alternate post. Another set of cast offs would replace the treasures looted today. Identity badges described assigned functions. These badges read greens only, recyclable, and all other.
It is the recyclable that inspired this writer's imagination. I am a collector, a shallow collector, impulsive and obsessive. Coins, stamps, books, records, cassettes, videos, knick knacks, advertising mugs, Christmas decorations, village pieces, eagles, dogs, and missionary memorabilia are only a few of the treasures I have started.
For years our garage has ended up the benefactor of my collections. Boxed and stored from floor to ceiling, labeled and unlabeled the boxes started a collection of their own. Dust. Now that I am on borrowed time (I have lived my three score and ten) I am concerned about the future of my collections. Like Mrs. Winchester of "Mystery House" fame I have adopted a philosophy. As long as the garage is filled with clutter the good Lord will not take me. He would not leave this mess to anyone else.
Over the years I have participated in the closing of two family homes. In fact, I have become the recipient of these family collections. I have also fallen heir to various supplies, dried up ballpoint pens, and used file folders etc., as the result of business relocations related to my administrative career.
Many times I have made a concerted effort to alleviate this overcrowding. On a regular basis we receive a call from Community Assistance to the Retarded and Handicapped (CARCH) requesting donations for their thrift store. I dutifully respond by skimming the surface of my muddle by boxing up some lesser desirable items.
Feeling good about my sacrifice and the progress I have made I invite my wife to join me for a date. The date consists of a quick lunch and a visit to our local CARCH Thrift Store. Imagine my surprise when at the check out counter my wife has picked up a toy for the kids that I had earlier donated. Another time she was buying back a favorite rose colored, blazer, I had chosen to discard.
I once heard a Los Angles televangelist boasting about being so heavenly blessed he could put twelve to fourteen full refuse cans on the curb each week. I do not claim that kind of blessing but I now attempt to donate to CARCH a ratio of seven or eight boxes for every bag of treasure picked up at their store. In addition to this I weekly try to fill the sentinel named Recyclable with treasures, no longer deemed necessary, like my wife's old college notes, 1960 paid bills, and unread magazines from three years ago.
The family is also benefiting from my crusade. In their Christmas packages I may slip in some old stamps from an untouched collection. A few coins from the oversized covered toy box or a crystal dish smuggled from the cupboard may prompt rolled eyes or a genuine smile. Each year I pass along old report cards, photos, sports clippings etc. to encourage the family in a tradition of collecting.
Richard R. Blake, Christian Education Consultant, Book Store Owner
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