The House Where Nobody Lives

The House Where Nobody Lives, originally uploaded by daradactyl.

One of the first guys to arrive at the yard sale ( 30 minutes early) bought a big box of dolls and my doll house. Actually, it's a miniature house that I loved working on when I was in high school. I made furniture, food items, dishes, all sorts of things. It was more about fabrication than dolls. Actually, it never had tiny people in it. But I loved it and I loved working on it.

It stayed in it's corner for years and years, waiting to be loved by another.

When I sold it, I had the idea that I would be selling it to someone whose daughter was interested in minuatures. But the man was very interested in the whole kit, so he took it for $5.

I was so happy about it until at the end of the sale, I realized he had taken everything out of the house and left the house by the trash.

It was soaked with rain and falling apart by then.

Oddly, it mirrors this house where I grew up. It has been sitting patiently for someone to love it. But it is becoming ever more clear that it is quickly turning to trash.

I hope we can sell it for more than $5, though.

When your past lives on a porch...

When your past lives on a porch..., originally uploaded by daradactyl.

I can't describe what it feels like to have so many things you remember from childhood - bits of ephemora here and there - all sits together on your porch, waiting for a new home.

To have all that gathered as if to say, "This was the Modglin household, " feels like a misrepresentation. It is but highlights, or lowlights, of the Modglin house. Things my Mom and Dad liked, or collected, things they probably treasured. But that is gone. And what We, my brother and I, don't treasure, gets passed along to a new adventurer, all for a quarter.

Perhaps the real value of something is found in how much it is loved.

Memories Pour In

Memories Pour In, originally uploaded by daradactyl.

I keep finding stacks of photos and a new set of memories gets triggered.

In this stack of polaroids, there is my favorite photo of my Mom and Dad. It was New Years, 1984. It was probably the biggest party my anti-social parents ever had. They look so happy. It was the last great photo I have of them. Later that year, my Mom was diagnosed with a brain tumor (same one my Dad had this year) and things were never the same.

Also in this stack, I found Gatlinburg photos from a trip I took in my Freshman year of college with my new college friends. I'm pretty sure that trip was the basis for a screwball comedy in the early 80s. It came complete with overheated radiator.

And finally, the photos my Dad took of the TV screen when he got high score on Ateroids (Atari, of course.)

Mystery #1

Mystery #1, originally uploaded by daradactyl.

I cleaned out the linen closet today. It was pretty tame, so it didn't take long. There was one set of sheets that I remember from high school. And the rest I remember as being part of my parents linens. And then the newer ones I didn't recognize at all.

After packing them all up for the Salvation Army, I noticed something shoved to the back of the closet behind an outcropping of wood where my Dad had fashioned a shelving unit in the bathroom on the other side of the wall.

It was one of his paintings.

I remember very well this painting. It's from 1975. The black velvet years. I rather liked this one. I thought the cheese and his fabrics always worked well. But in this one, the sad overtones are a little disturbing. Besides the obvious noose on the tree and the cheese board, the knife stuck into the wood where the wine shadow is - makes it look like a knife through the heart. What on earth happened in 1975?