When my father passed away last year, my brothers and I went to my parents house to go through everything. My mother had passed away a few years early, so it was time to pack up the house and put it on the market.
We had tried to get our father to accept our help to do this much earlier. We knew the house was way too big for him and we were always afraid he would fall down the stairs and break his hip. He refused, of course, so we were saddled with the giant duty of packing up two lifetime's worth of belongings. There were donation, toss, and take home piles.
We all split up and tackled different rooms. I went upstairs to the attic. It was a place of comfort to me as a kid. Up there were so many of our old toys. They were junk now.
But, they brought back vivid memories of playing with each other and our parents. As I was working my way through the room, I noticed a chest tucked away underneath a bunch of old auto magazines. There wasn't a lock on it, so I opened it up. Inside were auto parts. Weird. I called my brothers up and they confirmed-- foreign car parts. But why?
Our dad bought American made cars; it was something he took great pride in. Why did he have a chest full of foreign car parts? We couldn't ask him, so we were a bit stumped.
We decided on an elaborate story of him taking the parts off the backs of trucks and selling them to make extra cash. Who knows if that's the story, but it's the one we're sticking to.
“Why did he have a chest full of foreign car parts?”