Around the Bluhmin’ Town

By

Judy Bluhm

What treasures will we leave behind? I recall my brother and I finding our boy and girl scout uniforms when we looked through boxes in our parents’ attic. We had a good laugh and were not exactly sure what to do with the old relics. I kept mine. A green little uniform with a sash with a dozen badges that I had proudly earned. It is stashed away in my closet, and I am not really sure why I still keep it. Nostalgia is funny that way.

My husband, Doug, was a tool guy. Maybe having a ranch and horses meant he needed lots of tools, or because he had worked in operating rooms for forty years, or possibly because he just loved gadgets. Fixing things was his jam. His garage was his domain. So, my three adult grandsons came in from out of town, to help look through and take any tools that they needed. Well, it was a good idea, but sometimes things do not work out the way we intended.

Sunglasses, a baseball cap, an army knife, an Air Force emblem patch, a pair of binoculars, a much-used coffee mug, operating room scrubs and a few diagrams for future projects written on a yellow pad. These were the only things of interest that day. Oh, the “treasures” we discover that seem to stand out. Maybe the timing was off. Perhaps it is a testimony to the fact that “little things” are what seems to matter most. Or possibly, some personal items tell a story.

When my mother passed away and we were getting ready to sell her house, an old (like from the 1960s) brown sweater hung on a hook of the basement door. That sweater got thrown out (no one is sure how this tragedy happened) and you would think that the Hope Diamond was missing. The entire family (especially granddaughters) had a melt down over a worn (ugly) sweater that my mother had probably purchased at a Woolworth store and only wore to “do housework.” Of course, value is not about “cost,” but about the memories the object holds.

Back to the garage, I noticed things that made me chuckle. Doug’s workbench was rather messy, strewn with random tools, radios, bolts, containers, and notes. But his toolboxes were pristine. Every wrench is lined up in order of size, like they could be on display in a jewelry store showcase. My grandson, Kevin, is a helicopter mechanic in the Navy and claimed he never saw toolboxes that looked like this. He snapped a photo as an example.

One list that Doug had made was analyzed at length. “Batteries, bags of salt, light bulbs and Judy” was scrawled on a post-it note and stuck to the side of the workbench. Why was Grandma’s name on the list and what did it mean, the boys wondered. After much discussion and a few laughs, we all decided “Judy” was a prompt for something. Who knows? Maybe Doug just wanted to write my name.

This week let’s seek out life’s little treasures. One note at a time.

Judy Bluhm is a writer and a local realtor. Contact Judy at [email protected] or visit www.aroundthebluhmintown.com.