16 November 2021
Getting on towards the end of my mother’s life, when I would visit from Fort Lauderdale, I noticed if I picked up some particular item – say my grandmother’s butter churn – there was a piece of Johnson & Johnson medical tape on the bottom, the type of tape that was in a metal spool, with my mother’s hand writing on it saying either “Archie” or “Freddie.” Finally, my curiosity got the better of me and I asked what she was doing labeling “everything in the house?” She replied that when she died, she wanted us to know what was to go to whom. Even the furniture was marked, even Dad’s bed. I guess my Dad, who was very much alive, had to give up the goods. I put it down to one of her ideas, once embedded, never removed.
I have become my mother. Either COVID or turning 73 or feeling more aches and pains, have led me to start labeling things. To be clear, my will states that three organizations get everything, split three ways so it’s not like my grandmother’s churn is going to some relative and the lamp is going to another. Instead, any Christmas presents I have put aside for this year have been plainly markd as to whom they go – in big, bold, black letters. So if I kick the bucket before the holidays, then the lawyer who will settle my estate will know to give them to whomever.
I’ve also started thinking of what the lawyer who will settle my estate will think when he finds really strange things, like the piece of electrical conduit at the base of the washing machine which sometimes rolls up under the side of it. I’m sure he will think what was the idiot doing with this?
I use the conduit, about 2 1/2 feet long, to stick in one of the holes around the pool that is used for the uprights of a toddler fence to keep them from falling in and drowning. I don’t have the fence and I’ve plugged all but three of the holes around the pool but I use one on the east end of the pool to fit the conduit. I loop my swim cords over the conduit so I can swim “laps” in place. There have to be a hundred of these little surprises scattered throughout the house that someone will have to deal with and wonder about.
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He would start out on the rug beside my bed (after he was too old to leap into my bed) and then move to his bed in the living room, then the chair in the living room, then the couch in the living room and then the carpet in the living room before moving back to the rug by my bedside before I got up in the morning. Let’s just say he and I were creatures of habit. I still am.
We leave some funny “marks” on this earth when we depart. We certainly leave people with various opinions of our lives – some good, some bad – but since I don’t have any children or grandchildren, looks like only close friends will get a few labeled packages with my demise.
Just think of what my friends will think when they get a wrapped Christmas present, open it, and find their names written in large block letters on the boxes. Keep ’em guessing, I always say!
Back to the butter churn. My name was on the bottom of it so I’ve had it sitting on the floor in the living room even before my mother died. I claimed it early. Otherwise, I would not put it past my brother pulling the tape off with my name on it and putting the tape with his name on it. For a while, it held my brother’s will and sobriety chip. Lately, it has been used to make homemade sauerkraut. I’ve never made butter with it but it makes excellent sauerkraut and homemade pickles. Thanks mom!
