My supervisor at my day job said I had to clear my office of most of my personal stuff. I didn't complain. For one thing my office doesn't belong to me and for another it was getting hard to move around in there.
So I got some boxes and started hauling the stuff away: Artwork, junk, old papers, some junk, weird toys and some more junk.
There was my digital camera I bought at a yard sale for 7 bucks. Some of the functions didn't function and I held the battery compartment shut with a couple of rubber bands but hey, 7 bucks is 7 bucks.
I boxed up my "Big Lebowski" T-shirt, a gift from a friend. "The Big Lebowski" is a great movie, I often tell folks it's a tale of my life if I hadn't met The Lady of the House.
There were framed pictures: Here's one of me at the control board of the radio station where I first worked, a black and white photo of my dad and Richard Nixon, a framed "National Geographic" poster of the Earth at night, stuff like that.
I packed up my collection of books by the late, great Southern humorist and journalist Lewis Grizzard. A book of writings by the yippie radical of the 1960's Abbie Hoffman and a few others I didn't have room for at The Stucco Hacienda.
I packed away my jar of marbles. I kept them at the office in case anyone asked, "Have you lost your marbles?" Then I could hold out my jar and say, "Nope, got 'em right here."
And I brought my ceramic black sheep home to sit at my computer desk.
All this and much more came home with me. It was the right thing to do anyway. Work is where you work. Knick-knacky stuff belongs elsewhere.
It's just pretty amazing how things pile up over the years.
Grant McGee is a long-time broadcaster and former truck driver who rides bicycles and likes to talk about his many adventures on the road of life. Contact him at: firstname.lastname@example.org.