A Gloomy Outcast

More than the average person, I think about what will happen to my stuff after I die. Not the mundane everyday stuff I own like clothes or furniture, but the stuff I really care about — like, the stuff I had sentimental attachments to when I was alive. For example, in my backpack right now I have a “Bend ‘Em” Darth Vader action figure. New, it cost only a couple of bucks. It’s been on every flight I’ve been on over the past 20 years. It means the world to me. When I die, best case scenario, it’ll end up being sold at a garage for a quarter; worst case, and most likely, it’ll end up in the local landfill.

When you die, sentimentality dies with you.

Estate sales rekindle these thoughts. Everybody knows “you can’t take it with you,” but estate sales always remind me “somebody else has to deal with it after you shuffle off.” From a logistical standpoint, estate sales make sense — people should keep things with sentimental value and sell what they don’t need. From an emotional standpoint, I’ve never attended one that didn’t feel at least a little bit uncomfortable.

A saw an ad on Craigslist over the weekend that said “blah blah blah, Commodore computers, blah blah blah.” I can’t imagine needing or buying any more Commodore equipment at this point in my life; I also can’t imagine not going to find out what they had for sale, so that’s what I did.

The morning was cold and rainy and the drive was just over an hour long. I arrived five minutes after the sale was scheduled to begin and discovered forty cars — mostly pickups and SUVs — had beat me to the punch.

After parking and walking for ten minutes in the rain I began to survey the property, just looking at random things. Halfway up the driveway, the house was to the right and a large workshop stood to the left. On the driveway in front of me were piles of tools with an orange tarp attempting to them dry. Beyond the driveway in the yard were things being rained on: lawnmowers, wheelbarrows, and other mysterious piles.

The workshop was packed with tools and older electronics and junk. After maneuvering past the old men evaluating each hammer and drill, I found what I had come for.

All of the Commodore computer equipment had been combined into a single lot, with masking tape declaring the boundaries. The lot included three Commodore 64 computers, three 1541 disk drives, one box of cables and joysticks, and a Commodore +4 (in the box). The lot had a single, firm price: $100. Not a bad price, if all the cables were there and all or most of it still worked. If a guy had the gumption he could have bought the lot and, if he sat on it long enough, doubled his money — assuming of course the guy would be willing to sell any of it.

Just beyond the pile of Commodore stuff was a second, larger lot of Atari computer systems.

I saw two Atari 800xl computers, multiple floppy drives, a couple of datasettes, another large box of assorted cables and joysticks, a stack of magazines, and a disk box full of floppy disks. The price on that lot was $160.

After finding the computer equipment I decided to walk around for a few minutes and mull things over. The other corner of the workshop was stacked floor to ceiling with older electronics: large, vintage stereo speakers, tube televisions, a few reel to reel stereo units, a couple of TV/VCR combos, and other outdated things.

As the rain continued to fall more people pushed their way into the workshop, so I decided to head out into the yard. The things for sale told a story: there were lawnmowers, some rustier than others, followed by wheelchairs and oxygen tanks. Beyond the lawn equipment were multiple piles of items covered in tarps. One pile in particular at the back of the property caught my attention. The wind had blown the tarp back, revealing more computer equipment.

Multiple CRT computer monitors peeked out from beneath the tarp. Everything under the tarp had been placed directly on the wet ground, and with the tarp flapping in the wind, most of the items were now soaked.

Out in my garage I have a shelf full of old computers gathering dust under a stack of old CRT monitors. They’re all attached to dreams and projects — stuff I’ll get around to “someday.”

“Someday,” all the things I’ve spent years and fortunes accumulating will be sitting in a pile out in the rain, like puppies at the pound, hoping someone will take them home.

I left empty-handed.

7 comments to A Gloomy Outcast

  • It’s funny, both the Commodore and Atari Lots look tempting to me (I “only” have Two C64s and One 1541, and no Atari computer stuff), but we are getting ready to move and I am really trying to “kill my darlings” as I sort through my crap, packing it up. I know I will continue to amass treasure (junk), but this is a golden opportunity to get rid of things. On a related note, look for a “project” 5200 trackball to be listed on AtariAge soon. Honestly, who knows if our kids will even know how to hook up our old crap when the time comes? The life of a retro “hoarder”…

  • Paul in AZ

    Great job, Rob. Sometimes you get the bear and sometimes the bear gets you. If you don’t go hunting, you’ll never know what you missed. These same thoughts cross my mind – I have a stew pot of vinyl and old stereo gear, and I often wonder what will happen when I cash it in.

    Then the Peter Gabriel lyric (from Solsbury Hill) reminds me: “You can keep my things, they’ve come to take me home.”

  • Great post Rob! Last year our club did a huge purge of equipment. Like you, we’ve always tried to save things from going to the landfill by bringing it to club meetings, giving some of it away, selling some and keeping some for parts, repairs, etc… but I have to say, the purge was great and freed up a lot of space… multiple car loads left, about 12 trips to various thrift stores to make donations and sadly, some things went to the dump.

  • Steve Jones

    I get given a lot of IT bits and bobs and generally end up giving it away to some one who needs it..

    Dont see the point in sitting on gear if some one else can use and enjoy it..

    Reminds of the comic collectors who keep them sealed away…

  • Great post. Like you, I have a bunch of things with value to me and I am curious what will happen to them when I am gone. I can’t help but think of this: 1 Timothy 6:7 For we brought nothing into this world, and it is certain we can carry nothing out.

  • Ken Autry

    at 65 years old I’m starting to deal with all that right now. CRT’s are being disposed of. Can’t seem to turn lose of the old TV’s yet. Things I’ve been meaning to repair for over 20 years are now are either being sold or trashed. I feel your pain !! Uncle Ken

  • AArdvark

    Sounds like some melancholy sadness that day. Maybe it was the line of vultures in minivans in the rain. Gave me a Christmas Carol Ghost of Things Yet To Pass feeling. The part of the story when Scrooge sees the rag women arguing over his bedsheets after he dies. Brrr!
    Man, I’m making up list of my stuff and who gets it and stapling it to my will.

    THE
    SINKING FEELING
    AARDVARK

.xX[ MY INFO/LINKS ]Xx.

My EMAIL
My RSS FEED
My SUBSCRIPTION (Blog)
My Twitter
My YouTube

My Books
My Portfolio
My Podcasts
Review-O-Matic (Reviews)

.xX[ SUB-PAGES ]Xx.

My ARCADE GAMES
My SOFTWARE
My PHOTO GALLERY
My WRITING ADVICE
Every CAR I'VE OWNED
Every STATE I'VE VISITED

Latest Tweets