> > I grew up in the forties/fifties with practical parents -- a Mother, God
> > love her, who washed aluminum foil after she cooked in it, then reused
it.
> > She was the original recycle queen, before they had a name for it...
> >
> > A Father who was happier getting old shoes fixed than buying new ones.
> >
> > Their marriage was good, their dreams focused. Their best friends lived
> > barely a wave away. I can see them now, Dad in trousers, tee shirt and a
> hat
> > and Mom in a house dress, lawn mower in one hand, dishtowel in the
other.
> >
> > It was the time for fixing things -- a curtain rod, the kitchen radio,
> > screen door, the oven door, the hem in a dress. Things we keep.
> >
> > It was a way of life, and sometimes it made me crazy. All that
re-fixing,
> > reheating, renewing, I wanted just once to be wasteful. Waste meant
> > affluence. Throwing things away meant there'd always be more.
> >
> > But then my Mother died, and on that clear summer's night, in the warmth
> of
> > the hospital room, I was struck with the pain of learning that sometimes
> > there isn't any 'more.'
> >
> > Sometimes, what we care about most gets all used up and goes
away...never
> to
> > return.
> >
> > So... while we have it... it's best we love it..... and care for it.....
> and
> > fix it when it's broken..... and heal it when it's sick. This is
true.....
> > for marriage..... and old cars..... and children with bad report
> cards.....
> > and dogs with bad hips..... and aging parents..... and grandparents. We
> keep
> > them because they are worth it, because we are worth it.
> >
> > Some things we keep. Like a best friend that moved away -- or -- a
> classmate
> > we grew up with.
> >
> > There are just some things that make life important, like people we know
> who
> > are special..... and so, we keep them close!
> > love her, who washed aluminum foil after she cooked in it, then reused
it.
> > She was the original recycle queen, before they had a name for it...
> >
> > A Father who was happier getting old shoes fixed than buying new ones.
> >
> > Their marriage was good, their dreams focused. Their best friends lived
> > barely a wave away. I can see them now, Dad in trousers, tee shirt and a
> hat
> > and Mom in a house dress, lawn mower in one hand, dishtowel in the
other.
> >
> > It was the time for fixing things -- a curtain rod, the kitchen radio,
> > screen door, the oven door, the hem in a dress. Things we keep.
> >
> > It was a way of life, and sometimes it made me crazy. All that
re-fixing,
> > reheating, renewing, I wanted just once to be wasteful. Waste meant
> > affluence. Throwing things away meant there'd always be more.
> >
> > But then my Mother died, and on that clear summer's night, in the warmth
> of
> > the hospital room, I was struck with the pain of learning that sometimes
> > there isn't any 'more.'
> >
> > Sometimes, what we care about most gets all used up and goes
away...never
> to
> > return.
> >
> > So... while we have it... it's best we love it..... and care for it.....
> and
> > fix it when it's broken..... and heal it when it's sick. This is
true.....
> > for marriage..... and old cars..... and children with bad report
> cards.....
> > and dogs with bad hips..... and aging parents..... and grandparents. We
> keep
> > them because they are worth it, because we are worth it.
> >
> > Some things we keep. Like a best friend that moved away -- or -- a
> classmate
> > we grew up with.
> >
> > There are just some things that make life important, like people we know
> who
> > are special..... and so, we keep them close!
