Just an old wooden shelf

 

It's just an old wooden shelf.  I don't really need it. Maybe we should leave it there.        

Something inside me wanted to keep it.  I've never been real good at letting go...

   

            

503 East Lincoln Street is my grandparent's old house, where Judson and Ethel Williams lived.  My mom is their oldest child, then my Uncle Bill, and my Aunt Kay.  They all grew up there. 

Melanie, Sheri, and I spent a lot of time at 503.  Me being the youngest, that was the easy place to drop me off when everybody got busy.      

There is a detached garage.  When you opened the door, you saw all kinds of neat things hanging on the walls, stuffed up in the rafters, and on the floor.  It was junk to some, treasure to others.  The floor is hand mixed concrete with a rough finish.  When you walk in there, the smell of musty old stuff, gravel, and concrete, triggers childhood memories, and takes you back to a special place.

On the wall on the right as you first went in, was an old wooden shelf.  (top photo)  It was lined with little jars, big jars, medicine bottles, and coffee cans full of screws, nails, bolts, and lots of other things.  There were oil cans, funnels, aprons, an old baseball, and a some tools.  

There were even half full packs of Beech Nut chewing tobacco. (But that's another story.)

When I was 8 or 9, Jimmy Gilbert would stop by and we would play outside.  His family lived down the street.  His brother, Linwood, and sisters, Gail and Sheila, walked by the house on their way to town.  

There was an old Daisy pump BB gun hanging on two nails on the first rafter.  It looked a lot like this one...

If either of us had a pack of BBs, we would find something to stand on, and get it down.  Then fill it up, and take turns shooting it.  I don't remember shooting at  anything that was alive and breathing, just cans and stuff. When we ran out of BBs, we put it back till next time. 

Sometimes we went across the street to the big field behind the old East Jr. High.  The big kids played softball and baseball over there.  If they were short any players to have a game, we got to join them.  Jimmy was a strong kid, and with older brothers and sisters, pretty tough too.    

One good story my mom tells about Jimmy...On a Sunday morning at church, she was watching the three years olds in the toddler's room.  There were five or six kids, a small wooden table and chairs, and some toys and books.  In one corner, there was a pipe that came up through the floor, and continued up through the ceiling, connecting plumbing to an upstairs bathroom.  

Mom says she was sitting at the table, and she realized, she lost Jimmy.  The door was closed, but he was just not there.  An instant of panic, then, she found Jimmy.  He was up by the ceiling.  He had climbed the pipe, and was up there in the corner, hanging on tight, and looking down at everybody.  Jimmy was the only one in the room strong enough, and adventurous enough to do that.       

The Burton's lived next door.  Ralph and Peggy were wonderful neighbors to my grandparents.  Their son, Bart, is older than me, and was one of the big kids when I was little.  He was a standout football player at THS.  Bart and Mark Neel were linebackers and really tough guys.  Bart retired recently from the Army.  He served in many roles, and retired as the Commanding General at 20th CBRNE Command.  

More info on the CBRNE at this link... https://www.army.mil/20thcbrne#org-about

Thank you Bart for your service to our country! 

Bart continues to use his time and influence to remember and honor soldiers that fought and died for our country.  His social media posts remind us that the freedom we enjoy and take for granted, is not free.  Each time, Bart provides a name and a face to make it easier for us to remember fallen heros, and their families.     

Mark Neel married and moved to Memphis.  There, he had a successful construction company, and helped create Gameday Baseball Fields in Cordova, and his foundation, Gameday Healthy Kids Foundation to help reduce childhood obesity rates.  Mark's son Colton, was a tremendous athlete.  He could have played football or baseball , and chose to play baseball at the University of Memphis.  Here is a link to a wonderful article about Colton, and Mark.  https://www.commercialappeal.com/story/sports/2019/05/13/memphis-baseballl-tigers-colton-neel-learned-father/1134629001/  

It's fair to say Bart, and Mark both changed the world.  They made it a better, safer place for the rest of us.  Both of these men, as adults, shared their knowledge and experience to the next generation by mentoring, training, and equipping them for success.  And the cool thing is, they were good guys when they were growing up, a few houses away from my grandparents.               

Back to 503...Time went by, my grandparents passed away, and the house sat empty for a couple of years.  Then my cousin Diane lived there.  As much as things seemed to change, other things stayed the same and were untouched, like the garage, and the old wooden shelf.  Diane being there seemed like a great thing to me.  The house was still in the family, and Diane seemed to enjoy living there.  The years she lived at 503 provided a much needed bridge of time, and connected what used to be, to the future.    

Finally, the difficult decision was made to sell the house, and carry out the final wishes of Judson and Ethel.  They wanted their estate to be closed out and the proceeds divided between Bill's family, Aunt Kay, and my mom. 

Melanie, Sheri, and I helped give away, and get rid of things, at mom's direction.  Finally, the garage and cellar were the last two areas left.  

Talking to Bethel Bell at church one Sunday, he asked how it was going.  I told him pretty good.  We were getting things done, but some of it was difficult.  I mentioned to him there was this old wooden shelf in the garage, and it looked exactly like it did years ago.  The last person to open those jars and dig around, looking for something, was Judson, my grandfather.  That made it special to me.    

Bethel encouraged me to try to take it off the wall.  I said, It will probably fall apart, and it probably has so many screws and nails in it we will never get it loose. He said, well, all you can do is try.    

Days later, Terri and I carefully took everything off the shelf and put it in boxes.  Then with a screw driver, a pry bar and a big hammer, we got the shelf off the wall in one piece.     

A couple of days after that, it was placed on the wall in our garage.  I put the jars and cans back as I remembered them.  Now when we need a small screw, bolt, nut, or nail, that's the first place we go.  When we open a little jar, and dump a few out, we can find just what we are looking for.  

In that moment, I'm doing exactly what my grandfather did.  It's those moments and memories I don't want to let go of.  I can't let go of.  

Looks like I needed that old wooden shelf after all.