The Collector
I found this in a pile of old papers I had saved. It is a composition that I wrote while attending college in 1964. . . it is a true story except for the introduction. I did not learn about this in a letter from my aunt, Dolores Shawcross. I observed it at her home. - Tom Shawcross
The Collector
We received a letter from an aunt last week and learned that her Cocker Spaniel, Satin, has recently begun imitating her husband Bob. She gave us the following explanation:
As you know, your Uncle Bob has always driven me to distraction with his “collecting” of things. His job as an electrician seemed to provide us continually with opportunities to expand our inventory of building supplies. Bob could never resist bringing home the odds and ends that were left over after each job.
“Do you know how much this would cost us?” he would beam, while carrying in a coil of soldering wire. It never seemed to bother him that we already had several dozen coils of soldering wire, and that based on our past usage (zero) we would probably never have to go out and buy soldering wire.
Of course, if an accurate inventory of our basement and garage were ever taken, I think one would find that we could build a twelve-story office building without ever having to go out and buy anything. Bob started with the basement, adding some copper tubing here, a box of aluminum shoulder sleeves there, occasionally stopping to bulwark with iron pipe, until the basement became completely filled, all the way up to the kitchen stairs. The only way to get around down there is to crawl through a series of little access passageways. It reminds me of a book I read which showed the secret passageways that had been built into the pyramid of a pharaoh. They had been designed to collapse and trap tomb thieves, and I worry every time Bob goes down there.
After Bob filled the basement, he started to put things in the backyard and next to the house. But the neighbors complained that we were maintaining a public menace – a breeding area for rats and field mice – so Bob moved everything into our two-car garage. Everything except for our two cars, which we had to park in the driveway.
Two years ago, in anticipation of retirement, Bob bought a giant house trailer that turned out to be too big for our car. We had planned to drive it to Maine. But then in anticipation of retirement, your uncle Bob started to bring things home in greater quantities than ever. He was like a squirrel storing nuts in anticipation of winter. Running out of room, he turned to the trailer. It now sits on blocks in the yard next to the driveway. It is completely filled and Bob was afraid its weight would have been too much for its shocks and tires.
Not being able to travel too far, we started visiting local areas of interest when Bob retired. Some friends that we play cards with invited us to go to a “rock show” with them. They were speaking of actual rocks, not music. We went, and both of us became fascinated with the beauty of the rocks we saw. We bought some geodes and took them home to display in our living room. Soon, we began expanding our collection and buying or trading for even more beautiful and unusual specimens. We even started going on rock-hunting trips with our friends in the Rock Club.
Then one day, while cleaning house, I found a stray rock behind the couch. It wasn’t one of ours. It was just a piece of feldspar, typical of the rocks found along our street, and it hadn’t even been washed. I thought this was curious, but then I forgot about it until about a week later, when I found another one on the coffee table in the living room! It was next to a bright yellow Sulphur specimen. I thought that maybe one of the little children in the neighborhood had placed it there as an anonymous gift for our collection.
Later that same day, I saw our dog Satin walk by with her head down and her lips protruding strangely. I was afraid she had a field mouse in her mouth. I yelled at her, and she opened her mouth, dropping a fist-sized rock! I followed her to her little bed, where I found a cache of a half-dozen more.
Obviously, Satin has started collecting rocks too. I guess she has seen us bringing in specimens and has decided to help us with the work. It’s something I wouldn’t have believed, but I guess that years of living with Bob can have an effect on anyone. I can just imagine what would happen if Satin were to accidentally wander into a building supply yard.
The Collector
We received a letter from an aunt last week and learned that her Cocker Spaniel, Satin, has recently begun imitating her husband Bob. She gave us the following explanation:
As you know, your Uncle Bob has always driven me to distraction with his “collecting” of things. His job as an electrician seemed to provide us continually with opportunities to expand our inventory of building supplies. Bob could never resist bringing home the odds and ends that were left over after each job.
“Do you know how much this would cost us?” he would beam, while carrying in a coil of soldering wire. It never seemed to bother him that we already had several dozen coils of soldering wire, and that based on our past usage (zero) we would probably never have to go out and buy soldering wire.
Of course, if an accurate inventory of our basement and garage were ever taken, I think one would find that we could build a twelve-story office building without ever having to go out and buy anything. Bob started with the basement, adding some copper tubing here, a box of aluminum shoulder sleeves there, occasionally stopping to bulwark with iron pipe, until the basement became completely filled, all the way up to the kitchen stairs. The only way to get around down there is to crawl through a series of little access passageways. It reminds me of a book I read which showed the secret passageways that had been built into the pyramid of a pharaoh. They had been designed to collapse and trap tomb thieves, and I worry every time Bob goes down there.
After Bob filled the basement, he started to put things in the backyard and next to the house. But the neighbors complained that we were maintaining a public menace – a breeding area for rats and field mice – so Bob moved everything into our two-car garage. Everything except for our two cars, which we had to park in the driveway.
Two years ago, in anticipation of retirement, Bob bought a giant house trailer that turned out to be too big for our car. We had planned to drive it to Maine. But then in anticipation of retirement, your uncle Bob started to bring things home in greater quantities than ever. He was like a squirrel storing nuts in anticipation of winter. Running out of room, he turned to the trailer. It now sits on blocks in the yard next to the driveway. It is completely filled and Bob was afraid its weight would have been too much for its shocks and tires.
Not being able to travel too far, we started visiting local areas of interest when Bob retired. Some friends that we play cards with invited us to go to a “rock show” with them. They were speaking of actual rocks, not music. We went, and both of us became fascinated with the beauty of the rocks we saw. We bought some geodes and took them home to display in our living room. Soon, we began expanding our collection and buying or trading for even more beautiful and unusual specimens. We even started going on rock-hunting trips with our friends in the Rock Club.
Then one day, while cleaning house, I found a stray rock behind the couch. It wasn’t one of ours. It was just a piece of feldspar, typical of the rocks found along our street, and it hadn’t even been washed. I thought this was curious, but then I forgot about it until about a week later, when I found another one on the coffee table in the living room! It was next to a bright yellow Sulphur specimen. I thought that maybe one of the little children in the neighborhood had placed it there as an anonymous gift for our collection.
Later that same day, I saw our dog Satin walk by with her head down and her lips protruding strangely. I was afraid she had a field mouse in her mouth. I yelled at her, and she opened her mouth, dropping a fist-sized rock! I followed her to her little bed, where I found a cache of a half-dozen more.
Obviously, Satin has started collecting rocks too. I guess she has seen us bringing in specimens and has decided to help us with the work. It’s something I wouldn’t have believed, but I guess that years of living with Bob can have an effect on anyone. I can just imagine what would happen if Satin were to accidentally wander into a building supply yard.
posted by Tom Shawcross | 6:55 PM
1 Comments:
well I certainly have something in common with your Uncle Bob and his dog Satin...I collect things especially art type items, you know "I might use this in a project thing" and then there is the rock collecting...I have rocks from all over the world, but since I forgot to label or ID them I have no clue what rock is from where...so I just add them to my plants or put them in a box...they all kind of look alike.
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