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After My Father’s Estate Auction….
I know, I’ve been away quite a while. Too tired to post anything, too tired to read anything, since July 8. That’s the day the auction company came to my dad’s house and spent most of the day, with family help, taking my dad’s Coleman collection out of the basement. I took pictures, each family member chose a lantern to keep, and the rest was taken to the auction house to be cleaned, photographed, cataloged, and listed for an online auction (it goes live 12/7.) I’d been telling people for years he had over 300 lamps. The auction house listed 477 lots of lamps, chandeliers (yes, Coleman chandeliers), camp stoves, heaters, irons, military stoves, torches, parts, advertising — you name it. The company was also able to complete lamps with parts my dad had. (The auctioneer is Ron Stricker, if you’re interested. Look for Frank Weiner.)
Since then, my husband and I have borne the brunt of getting ready for the estate auction, which was held on 11/9. My sister and brother are both still working, so they could only help on the weekends. My sister’s husband had at least 2 surgeries, and several hospital stays, so her time was involved elsewhere. My other “brother,” who lives in Florida, came on and off, until his employer said he couldn’t. Seems he wasn’t ‘working from home’ as much as he was supposed to be doing. Just as well, he was useless when he was here. He found Dad’s stash of old silver coins, and spent 3 days on the internet ‘researching’ numismatic values as opposed to silver value (while the rest of us were working on the auction). He spent most of the time going to auctions and dragging stuff back to Dad’s until the rest of us put our foot down. Trying to sort out Dad’s stuff from his junk made for very short tempers, believe me.
We hired a guy to haul off the huge piles of pipe and metal scrap from the property, including a large, rusted-through oil tank used for storage. A dead forklift, 3 large pipe-hauling trailers (oil drilling company), several 300 gal. fuel tanks and stands, conduit, racks, rebar, anything metal — went on his truck. Split 50/50, the money went into the estate.
Trying to decide what to throw away and what to sell was nerve-wracking. Everybody also wanted to keep some things for themselves. My ‘brother’ bought my dad’s house — he’s full of big plans for it. (I wrote about that issue last year.) We all say he’s just full of it (last word is missing two letters…). Also, my mom (died 2013) and dad were inveterate auction lovers themselves. They bought 9 pallets from a local Walmart (we know, we unloaded them out of the semi-trailers) of shelving used in the pharmacy. Only 3 sets were assembled to use. There were 11-12 industrial mop wringers, but only 4 or 5 buckets. Many dust mop frames of various sizes, but no heads or handles. Metal tops with holes for metal trash cans, but no cans. Lots of sanitary napkin disposal bins, several large toilet paper dispensers, lots of red Rubbermaid step-on plastic and blue metal trash cans…I can’t remember it all.
They had 3 40′ semi-trailers filled with some good stuff, but mostly junk. My dad built a 3-bay shop — about 30×40, with a 24′ extension built on one bay for his motorhome. It was filled with tools, shelves, 2 large gun safes (no guns), a huge desk, 3 drill presses, 2 chop saws, 2 electric welders, a gas welding outfit, a large vertical bandsaw, a huge Kalamazoo horizontal bandsaw, a paint shaker, 3 grinders, one buffer on a stand, a large rolling workbench with electrical outlets, rolling worktables, paint (8 gallons of Case yellow and John Deere yellow?!?), oil, large toolboxes, at least 2 large hardware parts bins, pallet size shelving, rolling cabinets, a plastic pipe welder, a machine to make hydraulic hoses, old gym lockers for storage, wooden shelves, LARGE tools, 2 snowblowers, a chainsaw — this was a culmination of my dad’s and his older brother’s lives. Farming, driving semis for the boat plant, running an oil drilling business, running a trucking company — bits and pieces from each part of their lives.
I think I’m going to run out of allowed words if I keep going. I’m just so tired — driving 15 miles most every day to get filthy and mind-numbed from sorting, moving, and deciding every day what to do. We kept finding lamps and Coleman parts — in the shop, in basement bedrooms, his old desk.
In addition to the large safes, there were about 6 or 7 safes of varying sizes in the house. My dad had light bulbs in the basement, the kitchen, the utility room, the hall, the bathrooms, his bedroom — incandescent, LED, fluorescent, halogen, whatever. He had a large closet full of what we called “prepper” stuff — solar and crank radios, water filter straws, emergency sleeping bags, stun guns, taser flashlights, fire starter kits, etc. Three or four tall wire rack shelves full — it took a day to sort and put into beer flats. Then, there was the survival food — canned and freeze-dried meat, vegetables, meal pouches of soup, pasta, stew, rice, beans, dried fruit, snacks, nuts — a rolling wire rack 7′ tall and 5′ wide. What we couldn’t figure out: who was to eat it? My dad had a feeding tube; he couldn’t eat!
Many times while going through this process, I wanted to ask my dad, “Why?” The light bulbs, the survival food, the prepper supplies — why did he feel the need for all this? But, when I found his white bucket hat with the red and blue band, I lost it. He was wearing it in the last picture of the video that ran during his memorial. He was standing 3/4 to the camera, in front of a large lake, and he was waving. Goodbye, Dad.
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My condolences for your loss.
And my sympathy for the tremendous job he left for you.
Yes, my condolences on your loss. It’s very painful to go through.
My brother died suddenly in a motorcycle accident a year and a half back. His estate was a mess. He had sold his house and was living out of a camper moving it south for the winter and up to lakes country in the summer. He had a large steel storage shed full of stuff including a 69 Roadrunner that he was restoring. There were several lawn mowers, chainsaws, snow blowers, hunting stuff, a fishing boat… He never used any of it. Some antiques were also there.
Hang in there, give grace to your family members who don’t step up. Pray. Laugh. Try and remember the good times.
Only 1 chainsaw?
What was he thinking?
Seriously, I resemble your dad in too many ways. Not really a hoarder, but I often joke “I was born a poor black child during the depression” which reflects the core belief that I should keep everything, even if broken, because I might be able to repurpose a bracket, sprocket, scrap piece of wood, for some unknown project in the future. (OK, I might be a hoarder, but hopefully you won’t see me on that Show)
I recognize much of this perspective is because my Father, who did experience the Depression, developed this Mc Giver talent into something that was legendary. He fixed everything. And neighbors, friends and relatives with similar challenging economic circumstances, would bring their broken vacuums, cars, electronics, to him. He was an engineer, and a fixer.
I purchased a lot of lightbulbs at an auction last year. Dimmable LED bulbs. I never counted, but many hundreds of bulbs. I was able to piss off my sister by arriving at the big family Christmas gathering announcing I was “The Lightbringer” and giving everyone an 8 pack each of 60W and 100 W bulbs. I still have cases left. (My total cost for the bulbs was less than $25.00.) I received joy many fold from that purchase, and the reactions, both positive and otherwise.
I understand, at some level, that I need to clean up my “treasures” before I pass. But act as though I am immortal.
I have four chainsaws. One truly works, another needs a new blade, the other two are capable of working…
Can I say the following if it’s a direct quote? My Topeka brother came out to our place one afternoon after we had been working at dad’s. We took him to our barn, the new shop, and our 3 stall garage. While standing in it, he declared, “Kids (he’s 2-3 years younger than us), you’re going to outlive me, because I ain’t dealing with this [REDACTED] again!” He didn’t see the old chicken house, the Conex, my husband’s reloading/electronics shop, the north shed, and my shed! He said since we started the work at dad’s, he’s been cleaning out his stuff. We’ve stopped acquiring more projects ourselves. The Kubota tractor we were working on when I broke my leg in October of 2023 will be sold. Two reasons — time and money. We are now picking our own battles with our time.
Since this all started, my living room has been shrinking. It’s full of things we’ve been putting on ebay, because they wouldn’t bring much at a country auction. We’re going to take everything good that didn’t sell at the auction to a local consignment house. People have time to look the pictures over, and to bid. I hate seeing the better glassware and tools go for $2.00 a flat, which did happen. We should’ve had a two day sale, with good stuff split between the days. The auctioneers ran two rings, started at 9, and finally wound down around 6:30 that night from sheer exhaustion. Some stuff never got seen because it was scattered so far apart. We got 2″ of rain the night before the sale. We tarped all the trailers two days before the sale (there were 10 of varying sizes, borrowed from family and friends, including 3 16′ trailers and a borrowed 26′ gooseneck. We paid the auctioneer rent for two more 16′ trailers. Two trailers were my dad’s, sold at the sale.) We paid two auction guys $25.00 an hour to help load trailers with flats we’d filled. They were there at least eight hours, not counting lunch. My sister offered them lunch, but they said they’d eat and go get the two trailers. Should have rented two more.
My sister said when we all recover, she’d come help us unearth our house. That will be after her second grandchild is born in the next two weeks. I just do the dishes and wash our work clothes, then close my eyes. Absolutely no energy or desire to deal with my house right now. I intend to go through my clothes closet, for the third time, and ‘thin the herd’ at some point. Being retired now, I have no need for a lot of nicer clothes, shoes, purses, and belts.
sorry for the redacted word — we’ve all been saying worse since this started.
we’re pretty sure he had more chainsaws and tools, but a nephew had run of the place for years, and we’re betting that’s where some things went. The nephew is a story for another post — let’s just say court is involved.
Probably my favorite cartoon of all time. Perfectly encapsulates the ‘but what if I need it, can use it someday ‘ mindset. I have gotten a little better about throwing things out as I age. I still bless my aunt who went through her things about a year before her death and saved me a lot of work . Maybe we can all do the same at least a little.
Actually I believe the final count was 11 chainsaws. We got all of them working before the auction. In fact all the power equipment stored in his storage shed worked except for 1 of the snow blowers. Remember he had no house just living out of his camper.
We still don’t know where one of his motorcycles (a 1974 Yamaha 500) is. He was paying storage insurance on it and the state said it hadn’t been licensed in 3 years.
When my mother died, neutral observer and I went through her things and took what we wanted to keep. Next, we let our daughters do the same thing. Once they were done, we gathered all the clothes up and donated them to Goodwill.
I pity our kids when we pass. We tend to be pack rats, and it could take years for them to figure out what they want . . .
I really do feel for you, both in terms of the herculean task left to you, and the sudden, unexpected and overwhelming emotion that you describe at the end of the OP, after you came across a small and personal item in the stash.
I often think of a lovely couple, a Lutheran pastor and his wife the late Mr. She and I met for lunch, not long before the two of them–who’d been married for about 50 years and were both quite ill at the time–passed on. They were going through their house, and their lifetime of possessions and memories, giving them to family, donating them to charity, selling them and throwing them out, prior to putting their home on the market and moving to an assisted living apartment. “When we die,” the wife said, “our children will arise and call us blessed” (Proverbs 31:28).
Not long afterwards, my siblings and I had to arrange my mother’s transfer to a nursing home and I ended up solo, clearing out the house. I did not call my mother “blessed.”
I’m trying to forge a middle ground myself.**
It sounds as if you’ve done both your parents proud. God bless.
**
I only have three. I used to have five. I’m doing well, right?
My ‘brother’ is busy refilling the big shop with stuff he bought at the auction. He also moved a go-cart, an 8N Ford tractor (college ‘education’ and doesn’t know how to put a drawbar on his tractor), and the box truck into the shop. My husband moved the tractor for him, and he didn’t even thank him! Little does he know that none of us will return to that house after the estate is completely settled. We’ve all been biting our tongues during this, because of the sneaky, slimy, underhanded way he treated dad when he tried to steal his home in 2022. He’s getting a ‘come to Jesus’ moment in the future.
I just tried to find my post in ‘members’, couldn’t. So I went to ‘my feed’ and found it. Posted another comment, decided to check the main feed. Shock and awe! I got on the main feed, and I just sent a query to support about editing my post title to “After My Father’s Estate Auction….”. Thank you all for your support. Loss and dealing with it is a common human condition for us all, and I posted that piece as part of my process. Over the years, I’ve written posts of fun, anger, sorrow — Ricochet has been there through it. I should’ve made time to stay in touch, but as I said in my post, exhaustion and a numbed mind aren’t conducive to coherent thought. We just got back from taking a 5yd dump trailer of trash to the landfill (2nd one so far). It was 1.16 tons! First load was just under 1000#. We took 2220# of metal scrap to the recycler in the same dump trailer. The trailer is half full again. We brought our nephew’s trailer back with 8 pallets. We have to sort stuff that didn’t sell next week for the consignment auction. There will be more trash…..