Everything Must Go

 Emboldened by my recent dive into the junk drawer in our kitchen, I set out to create something we have only attempted once before since moving into this house: A yard sale. 

We have allowed us all a healthy run-up time of three weeks to prepare for the inevitable shock of "nobody wants this? I can't understand..." 

There coincidence that is the release of Toy Story 5 in theaters as we began this undertaking was felt in my bones as I dragged former treasures out from the shadows into the light. So many toys. So many beloved playthings. And I'm not just talking about my son's past. My own youth was on display even as I dug deeper into the recesses of what my wife has on occasion referred to as "our magic basement."

Items from a previous century marked the Denver Broncos' first Super Bowl win. Most notable in the souvenirs collected in this haze was the poseable action figure of John Elway. I have it on good authority that this is not a "doll" but rather a "collectible," and now that I have lived to see two more Super Bowls won by different players, I can probably let this one go.

Of course I do this with full knowledge that I will be doing this in the heart of Oakland, the one-time home of those silver and black maniacs and their fans, who still cling to their former team with a passion that rivals my own. Once John leaves my yard, I have no control over his future. I have to make peace with this. 

Which is just a tiny example of all the treasures that have gone too long without being noticed. It was important enough for me to buy a Walter White doll, excuse me, action figure back when Breaking Bad was front and center in my life. I will carry the memory of that experience even as I make whatever deal I make with some stranger who wants to sell it on eBay for an amount that would make my head spin. 

But it will be out of my house. It will be one less item that will need to be cataloged and discussed when it comes time for that roll calls me up yonder. Why did we hang on to not one but two video cameras so long after Martin Scorsese started shooting all his movies on his phone? I don't know. I also don't know if we can get anyone to pay us a couple dollars for holding onto said technology for more than a decade. 

Still plenty of time to sneak some of that stuff back into hiding for all eternity. 

Or not.