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My Dad, The Pack Rat

By James Pynn
Nov 5, 2009
My father is a pack rat. He keeps everything from bent paper clips to broken toys from our childhood. He loves holding on to random wires and old VHS remotes. He's also a fan of keeping old, unusable tires -- just in case. Just in case science creates a time machine, I like to quip. Worlds collided, recently, when I had the idea of having a garage sale. It took all my powers of persuasion to convince him to part with even a third of his massive stash.

The proverbial ball got rolling with a recording a HGTV Channel show about pack rats. It's one of those shows that has a gaggle of designers and craftsmen come in and sell off all the junk in order to renovate a new home. We just "happened" to catch the show during dinner. The subconscious is a very powerful tool -- and it seemed to have worked. The next day, he agreed to the garage sale.

My window of opportunity was short. I had to move fast, before the show wore off. I put posters up all around our neighborhood and prepared the front yard for the sale. I borrowed some fold out tables and had everything ready for the big day. As the day of the sale dawned, my father was in a foul mood.

All of our old, useless stuff began to move off the tables. It was amazing that there was a demand for his junk. Maybe he was onto something. One person's junk is another person's treasure. The only problem I had, other than my father's mood, was his propensity to double or triple the price when asked! There was one item in particular -- our stainless steel fan -- that put him in a stubborn mood. It was listed at $5, but he wouldn't take less than $20. I had to take him aside and assure him we could go to any modern fan company and buy a new one.

I managed -- eventually -- to sell the fan, but only after my father stormed off. At the end of the day, I counted the take and marveled that we had sold $300 worth of junk. Amazing. I treated the entire family, sans my father, to a burger feast. Knowing the meal was being paid for by my father's junk was extremely satisfying. Thanks, pop.
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