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 30x40, 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.