Memories and Junk

My sister and I spent all morning at our dad's house, cleaning out more of his things. It is interesting what a person keeps for so many years, thinking that each item is of great importance. For instance, we came across two large paint-by-number pictures that my mom had done circa 1960. Both were frame less, lying on a shelf in one of the bedroom closets. I can remember when mom painted "The Last Supper." I thought she had extraordinary talents. But yesterday, none of us wished to keep the masterpieces. Instead we gave them to a local charity that sells things for a nominal fee to support the charity. The charity is one that my dad had supported financially for many years. I'm sure he would have approved the giving of those paintings. And I am equally sure that someone out there will be thrilled to see one or both paintings and will snatch them up for a bargain price. We did the same with dad's gray felt hat, one of his prized possessions. It might have looked good on the head of one of his descendants had it not been for the fact that dad only wore a size 6 7/8. The hat perched on top of my brother's head, looking similar to a little straw hat the one with elastic to hold it on that you have seen a child wear at a birthday party.) After needing oxygen to revive us from our laughter, we parted with the hat quite easily. Guess we could have kept it around for a few good laughs, but then what would our children find when they clean out our houses?