Thursday, March 11, 2010

My Grandmother's Bottle Opener

Got through the funeral okay. Graveside service at the cemetery was harder. Spent some time with my parents and my brother. And got to see several cousins I haven't seen in several years.

And. At one point there we were sorting through things in my grandma's apartment. You know, who gets what, what gets tossed. A lot of this had been decided in advance, long ago. I loaded one fairly sizeable piece of furniture into the back of my Jeep, turned down several other pieces of furniture for which I have no use, but which somehow had been assigned to me "in family" at a place and time I cannot remember and where I was probably not even present.

But. I did lay claim to one item that to me is worth more than its weight in gold. Out of a kitchen drawer, I claimed the old bottle opener. The old bottle opener that used to sit in a kitchen drawer out at the farmhouse back when I was a kid. You know, bottle opener, probably about 1960 vintage, with local gas station logo on the handle, and on the end of the handle a transparent red plastic bullet-shaped tip.

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