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Home > Men > 2012 > Trash talk


Trash talk
Todd Wilson
Thursday, October 4, 2012



Hey Dad,

Tomorrow is our town's BIG TRASH DAY!!!! [Echo, echo]. I can hardly wait to load up all the big junk we've been saving for this annual 'celebration.' It's just so … so … wonderful (sniff sniff).

Our home and yard still won't be devoid of trash though—it seems to be our specialty. We can take a couple of trailer's full to the big town dumpster and still have a mountain of bikes, scooters, roller blades, assorted half-built projects, and gobs of building materials—all scattered across the yard. Every once in a while, I fall under the delusion that I can have a nice, neat, and tidy yard, and have the kids help put it all away. And, I have to admit that for at least 20 minutes it looks good, but then there are those pesky kids, who call me dad, who bring it all back out, plus more.

But yesterday I got a perspective changer. It came from Mrs. G. You see most Tuesdays for the last dozen years I had breakfast with her husband. Then he had the nerve to leave us and head on to heaven. I don't have breakfast with Mrs. G as often, but every few weeks, we go to McDonald's and sit in 'our seats.'

Yesterday was one of those mornings. I was talking about all our bikes and junk when she said, "I miss seeing bikes lean against the garage door." I half-thought she was joking, but I could tell by her voice that she meant it! "The other day," she continued, "I found a handprint on the door (or wall) left by my grandson … and it looked good."

That's when I knew she had delivered a message from God to me. All the junk, bikes, and dirty handprints are 'valuators' of a good life. Afterwards, I pulled into the driveway and saw all the 'stuff' displayed in its usual, early-American slum way and felt … grateful.

Dad, when you see the piles of bikes, the dirty fingerprints, and the mountains of trash, you should too.

Thanks, Mrs. G. We needed that.

You 'da dad,




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