It was the bowling ball that caught my attention. There it was nestled in amidst a large pile of boxes, suitcases, a lamp, and a jumble of other items that appeared to be pulled from our attic, or basement, possibly both. The pile was sitting in the foyer near the front door.
I picked up the bowling ball, examined it and tried to remember when was the last time I used it. It may have been during the Reagan administration, or maybe it was during the Clinton presidency.
“Don’t go getting too attached to that,” Terri said, coming down the stairs.
I smiled as I rolled the ball in my hands, remembering the strikes, well, maybe the strike I had rolled with it. Fact of the matter was, I could barely remember using it, or why I bought it in the first place.
“Ah, this old thing,” I said, as Terri took it from me.
“I have someone coming by for it in a bit,” she said.
I stepped back, shocked. “Whoa, whoa, you’re selling my bowling ball?” I asked. “I mean, this brings back memories, kind of.”
“No, no, I’m not selling it,” she said.
“Oh good.”
“We’re giving it away,” she said.
I was speechless and looked at the big pile of other items. I pointed and tried to form a sentence.
“And…and…the lamp. The suitcase. And those boxes, and whatever is inside them?”
“Yes,” Terri said, nodding, “all this stuff is being picked up by someone I connected with online. So, out of the house it goes.”
“A stranger?” I asked. “You’re giving all our stuff to a stranger? For free? Even that lamp? I remember reading under it.”
“And you’ll always have that memory, honey,” Terri said. “No one can take that away from you.”
“Yes, but someone can apparently take the lamp away from me. Not to mention my bowling ball.”
“Oh, come on now,” Terri said. “I’ll bet you don’t even remember the last time you used that ball, if ever.”
“I certainly do. It was back when…back when I thought about bowling more often…and frequently,” I said, stammering. “I was going to join a…”
The search function in my mind was working feverishly to remember when I had bought the damn thing, and why.
Terri stood there holding the ball and mocking me.
“Yes, it looks like it was used extensively, or maybe not at all. Guess it’s hard to tell the difference with bowling balls.”
“That’s not true,” I said, waiting for the mental search to yield a result that would actually help me. “I was using it back when…when someone was in the White House. That guy.”
Terri put the ball down, tucking it behind a box. “And don’t touch that,” she said.
I looked at the pile of belongings and wondered where this purging of possessions was coming from.
“Are we moving?” I asked.
Terri was busy rearranging things. “No,” she said, rolling the suitcase with the bum wheel around to the side.
“Am I being thrown out?” I asked.
“Not yet,” she said. “Depending on how the bowling ball handoff goes.”
“Then why are you giving all this stuff away?”
“Because no one will pay for it. And there’s all kinds of great free stuff available online. It’s like a big swap meet. All you have to do is connect with someone to pick it up.”
I didn’t like this at all. Dozens of family items being given away. Items that were taking up space one minute, gone the next. Items I wasn’t aware still existed, but were now being kicked to the curb.
The doorbell rang, and Terri was giddy with anticipation.
“That must be Steve,” she said. “We arranged a swap. He has some cleaning supplies we can use. And we agreed to trade a couple of other things for our junk, oh sorry, for our cherished items.”
She opened the door and there was Steve, tall, rail thin in his seventies with his medical facemask neatly in place. Introductions were made and Steve stayed on the stoop as he and Terri went through his jackpot.
“Ah, that is perfect,” Steve said, when she handed him the bowling ball.
“See,” I said. “It’s a great ball, a real find. You bowl?”
Steve shook his head. “Nah”, he said. “This is gonna work great as a little planter once I carve it out and get a pedestal for the bottom.”
I didn’t like Steve at the moment. I liked him even less when he turned and wheeled a little hand truck around from behind him. On it was what looked like an aquarium for a shark. In the tank were containers of cleaners easily as old as the bowling ball.
“That stuff for the next folks, Steve?” I asked, hopefully.
He chuckled. “No, I couldn’t do that. Not after I promised it to you wife.”
“I’m sure she won’t mind,” I said.
Terri excitedly reached in and took out a spray bottle of something with a yellowed label.
“Don’t tell me,” she said. “Is this…”
“Yup,” Steve said, “Five-oh-Seven. Stopped making it after a year ‘cause it was so damn powerful. Not only cleaned, but ate away kitchen countertops too.”
“Wonderful,” I said.
“I got a bonus back in the car, if you guys are interested,” Steve said.
Terri was busy reading the label on the unsafe cleaner like a kid in the fifties examining the back of a baseball card.
“A bonus,” I asked, thinking maybe some old, but valuable golf clubs.
“Yup,” he said. “Can of paint. Left over from when I did my house awhile back.”
“And just how far back is awhile back?” I asked.
“Hmmm, must be ten years now. It’s kinda due again, actually.”
“This paint, it’s still good?” I asked.
“Nope, hard as a rock,” Steve said.
“Makes perfect sense,” I said. “We can use it for…”
“A doorstop maybe,” Steve said, subtly moving the aquarium into the house. “I’ll go get it.”
I watched Steve walk to his car with my bowling ball. Terri was busy sizing up the aquarium, looking at it and thinking out loud.
“This will be perfect in the kitchen by the windows. We can make a big terrarium out of it. Fill it with plants and brighten up the place,” she said.
“Or I could hollow out the bowling ball and make it a planter,” I said.