Today I started to process the last box of The Comm’s stuff that I loaded into the Ninja Memorial Day weekend. Some stuff also went into the Frog Hopper but that vee-hickle was mostly filled with garbage and recycling and camping stuff.

I took a quick peek into this box before I packed it into my car and I knew that it would be a difficult one to process. Not because there was anything that might induce nostalgia, just that it was a reeeaalllly random bunch of stuff. I will keep the glass fir tree. Maybe someday, I’ll find a place to put it, at least during the xmas season. Ashtray? Hmmmm… It’s nothing special and I’ll put it in with the donations. I’ll *keep* a small Asian-looking ceramic item that I remember from my childhood, which was probably given to The Comm by her sister, my aunt Roberta (who is still alive at something like 97).

Four train whistles. What do I do with those? The GG asked, “How many of those did you give your parents?” Answer: None (and why in the heck would you even *ask* a question like that). Over the years, I know that I gave my parents some useless items. A few of them have come back to bite me, like the mugs I gave grandroobly when he was collecting them! I never gave them a train whistle. That thought wouldn’t have crossed my mind…

…But train whistles do bring back memories. When we were kids and spent the summer at the moomincabin, we were pretty much allowed to run free most of the day. There was a *strict* rule that you did NOT go into the water without getting an adult to lifeguard. And we also knew not to go across the road into the swamp. A kid could drown back there too and how the heck would you find one out there with all the brush and stuff or even know where to look for one. We understood that stuff at an early age and didn’t do those things (well there was the 2-year-old summer incident when me and my two 2-year-old cousins escaped from the Old Cabin and were found standing in ankle deep water with our cute little Keds on). But we learned early and yes, I already said that but it bears repeating.

Anyway, when we were at an age that we could be trusted not to drown ourselves, we would be off running around all day. When our mothers called us home for lunch, we realized that we were hungry and we would take off running home! How did they call us? The Mullins had a big bell that you could hear all over the beach. Bubs would just YELL! JAAAAAANE! [hee hee hee] The Commander had a train whistle. One that we could hear all over the beach. Actually if you heard *either* the Mullin bell or The Commanders whistle, you knew it was time for lunch and for all the moms to account for all of their children.

Later on, when we got a little older we learned that in addition to calling children home for lunch the train whistle was used to call our fun-loving aunts and uncles over for cocktails! Last I remember, that train whistle was still hanging by the moomincabin front door but I couldn’t tell you because the last time I was up there, when I wasn’t out hiking or trying to stay warm, I was mole-ing around in the garage trying to process The Commander’s stuff in something approaching a respectful way. I think the whistles that I have here are more recent collections, souvenirs from various trips.

I’m not sure how to end this except to say goodnight and I’m not sure what to do with all the train whistles.

This entry was posted on Monday, June 3rd, 2013 at 6:29 pm and is filed under Uncategorized. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. Both comments and pings are currently closed.