Saving the grain
By Justin Isherwood
A mental reference exists, some call it a malady, perhaps even a collective psychosis. It happens to lots of people; doll collections, car collections, to mention thimble collections, antiques of all kinds, including tractors, and toy tractors.
Winston Churchill for the record was an over-the-top stamp collector. I had an aunt who collected spoons, the entire wall of her living room, floor to ceiling, hung with her collection of spoons. As a kid, I thought her house was haunted, at a certain wind velocity, maybe it was the snow load or every time the furnace kicked in, or the refrigerator, or the cat purred, those spoons jiggled and emitted a tinkling sound that for reasons of biological sympathy made me want to pee. A kid couldn’t sit still in that room.
My aunt was extremely proud of her spoon collection, she was certain of its value to posterity and expected the Smithsonian to call any day. If the scrap yard value was maybe 20 bucks, maybe closer to 10. To concede her house was never robbed probably because of that incessant jingling of her spoon collection, enough to creep out any would-be burglars. Such was the seismic nature of those spoons that even normal type persons began to consider the possibility of ghosts and poltergeists.
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