greene's blog: ...but what is it?!

I collect junk.

Useful junk.

So much junk that it's actually visible from space. Don't believe me? Just look up my address on a Google Map. Check it out...
1993


2014


2016


I collect junk that will someday be made into something else, oh wait. My daughter tells me that's called upcycling. Upcycling sounds too much like what happened back in 1974 or 1975 when I entered a bicycle race. Sheesh, talk about 'cycling' an 'up' in the same sentence. No thanks! I rounded the first bend and bang, a hill...going up. I had to upcycle for real. Anyway, long story short. At the end of the race, they gave out medals. The men got medals for first, second and third place. I got a medal for being first of all the women.

Um, did I mention that I was the only woman in the race? True. I could have walked the entire course...backward and still come in first of all the women! But I treasure that medal to this day because I finished the race. Cycling uphill, be damned! I did it, I finished, I didn't quit and have the medal to prove it. Completing that race meant a lot to me. It's right up there with my feeling of accomplishment when I climbed Mount Washington, the highest point in the White Mountain range in New Hampshire, part of the Appalachian Trail. Have you ever climbed Mount Washington? It is so strange to be up, up, up above the treeline. No trees. Heck, where would my dogs pee if they were up above the treeline? Someone certainly does a good job of keeping the lower trails clear but above the treeline, there's nothing to cut back.***

And all of that has absolutely zero to do with this blog post but heck, I had to start somewhere. So, back to junk.

If someone places something at the curb for trash pick up, I'm there. Just yesterday in the pouring rain I picked up some cut off lumber, 2 kitchen knives, and a plastic box that will be handy for storing things. Litter on the beach - I pick it up. Drop something in the woods - I pick it up. Picking up trash and litter in the woods it's just good um, what's the word? There is a term for it, you know, leave the woods cleaner than when you arrived. What in the heck did we call that? I can't remember what it used to be called but now there's a hip new term. Thanks to the Swedish we can all go plogging. Yes, when you go out jogging or hiking, remember to carry the necessary tools such as disposable gloves, reusable trash bags, etc. You can take my word for it, look up plogging, or check the link* below.) It seems that the Swedish people are very good at keeping fit, keeping things clean, and having the tools at hand to get the job done. It's too bad they can't invent a way to not get smacked in the face by branches while running along a trail in the woods.

Oooh, I just remembered something. Way back in 1995, I was walking through the Home Depot parking lot somewhere in Florida and, as always, I picked up a piece of trash. This trash just happened to be one of those paper envelopes the bank uses when they give out cash. Two men behind me started laughing and I could hear them, "Look at that. She thinks there's gonna be money in that envelope. Stupid...(fill in the blank)". I quietly and quickly put the 'trash' into my pocket. There was money in it. Seventy-five dollars. But I let the men have a good laugh. Why spoil their fun?

Standing in line at the grocery store...trash at my feet. It was an envelope. Most likely it was someone's shopping list. I find it enjoyable to read shopping lists created by other shoppers; might be good for a laugh. I pick it up and stick it into my pocket, the same as I always do. Driving home from the store, I became curious. What if? No. It couldn't happen twice, right? As the traffic light turned red I stopped and took a quick peek. Five dollars! At the next light, I looked again. More than five dollars! I forced myself to wait until I was home safe and sound to open the envelope and count the money. No name. No identification. Not even a shopping list. The envelope contained a little over $600. Even I didn't believe it happened. I checked to see if anyone posted an ad about lost money. Checked the notice board at the grocery store. I waited for about two weeks. Nope. Nothing.

Whenever I walk my dogs along the roadside I always pick up small pieces of metal, nails, and screws that might cause someone to have a flat tire. I once ran over a metal clothes hanger that caused a flat tire, on a Sunday, in downtown Savannah. A nice police officer named Elvis came to my rescue and directed me to the nearest tire repair place. Gotta love that his mom taught him to be helpful and gave him such a cool name.

Walking the dogs in the rain I once found a one hundred dollar bill. A few minutes later I found a second one hundred dollar bill. Hmmm, this can't be real.


Look closely.


It was movie money. Fake money for motion pictures. Yes, Savannah is a popular location for filming. As a matter of fact, I could register my property to be used as a potential filming location, well, if I didn't have so much junk all over the place.

Sometimes I pick up things that will be useful to others. Things like baby walkers, high chairs, cribs, etc. that only need to be washed and disinfected then given to friends or donated to charity shops. Bicycles are a big deal; people throw away two or three broken bicycles, I pick them up and take them to a man who uses broken bicycles to make one good bicycle. Keeps him busy and he feels good when he gives the newly refurbished bicycles away to young people. When the Instant Pot became popular it seemed that everyone was discarding their old slow cookers. Okay, the electric part may not work but the crocks are good and heavy; they make excellent water containers for the chickens and dogs.

Don't worry. I am not about to list every type of trash that I pick up. It's enough for you to understand that I love doing this. It makes me happy. Having all this junk and making plans to upcycle everything keeps my mind active. Hope for the future and all that jazz.

Picking up trash is something I occasionally do on a much larger scale. When my friend and neighbor William went into a nursing home his nephew had the daunting task of cleaning out his uncle's mobile home to sell. I volunteered to help. It was a 3-bedroom, 2-bath mobile home packed to the ceiling with junk. We struck a deal - no money involved but I would be able to keep whatever junk I wanted. Armed with trash bags, cardboard boxes, plastic totes, gloves, face masks, and knee pads I slogged my way through a hoarder's paradise. I separated the junk into trash to haul to the dump, garbage to be placed in the weekly bin for pickup, recyclables to be places in the yellow-top bin for pickup, things to keep, things to give away. The nephew had already removed what he considered to be 'valuables' but I found treasures galore. Lots of hand tools; I love tools. I won't list all the items but will talk about just one thing - pool table fabric. My friend William had owned a billiard parlor and had tons of fabric, both used and new, piled, stacked, in boxes, on chairs, stapled to the wall, toppling over onto the floor. I filled my car three times with fabric and thought that sooner or later I'd figure out what to do with it. I mean...Kermit the Frog was created by using mom's discarded winter coat; maybe I could do something creative and/or useful with that much fabric.

Skip ahead. Yes, eventually I discovered that no matter how stained, stained, or smelly (think stale beer and cigarette butts on the barroom floor stinky), the fabric could be run through the washing machine a few times and be good as new. I started sewing blankets for shelter dogs. It worked! And the fabric was all free. I wrote a blog about it over here.**

Okay, I lost my train of thought again. Where was I going with this blog? Let's see...trash, dogs, walking, Swedish, um...oh, I remember. Someone posted on Facebook Marketplace that they were giving away two used garden hoses for free - no money. I just happen to need those garden hoses because I have accumulated a huge brush pile and, after obtaining the proper burn permit from the Georgia Department of Forestry...not from the Canadian Forest Rangers, I will set the pile on fire and end up with some lovely wood ash for the garden. But, safety requires me to have a garden hose that will reach over 200 feet from the spigot to the pile.

Note: My mom lived to be over 100 years old and until the very end she had one regret - that she didn't know how to spell the word 'spigot'. She could have won the grade school spelling bee but she had spelled it incorrectly as 'spicket'. Her parents were immigrants to this country and never spoke a word of English; I find it amazing that my mom came in second place in a spelling bee. If only the neighbors had called the thing a hose bibb and not a spigot; she could have been the winner! Well, anyway, one good thing is that her parents decided to settle in Pennsylvania instead of in Canada. There was a large group of Ukrainians who called themselves Galicians that arrived in Canada. Some of them lived as squatters in the Canadian woods and every spring the Forest Service would have to get them to move along. Who knows what my mom would have learned if she had grown up as a Canadian child?

My mind wandered again...let's get back on track. I met the Facebook person, let's call him Carlos mostly because that's his name, at a local storage facility. We chatted. Put the free garden hose into my car. We chatted. He sold me a brand new in-the-box-never-opened garden sprayer for $4. We chatted. Carlos will be moving and there's a ton of junk that he can't take with him. I thanked him and drove away with the garden hose and sprayer and that should have been the end of it. But no. Carlos sent random texts throughout the day about concrete blocks, slightly rusted metal shelves, and a few other things and we agreed to meet at 9 the following morning to see what we could fit into my small car. Just in case you don't know about me and my little car, I tend to make things fit. It's like a clown car except for junk, not clowns. Here are a few examples:


Caffeine-deprived and blinded by the morning sun, Carlos and I worked together to disassemble the shelves so they would fit into my tiny car and all the while we chatted. Carlos is a very entertaining person; it's a shame he's moving all the way to Ohio. He would be fun at a party. Into my car went six almost new concrete blocks, 2 metal shelves, a leaf rake, and a thing.

What kind of thing?

I don't know.
A tool.

A 'what is it' kind of thing tool.

How did it end up in your car?
Oops, I skipped that part.

As I was preparing to leave the storage place I had spotted some kind of hand tool I've never seen before in my entire life. Did I mention that I hate not knowing what something is? I was getting ready to take a photo of the thing so I could research when Carlos said, "Well, heck. I got that thing for free so you take it. I never did find out what it was. It's yours now!"

And into my car, it went.

(...but what is it?!)
I have no clue, but it's my thing now.

I researched.
Nope. Nothing.

I asked a few friends.
Nope. Nothing.

I sent photos to people.
Nope. Nothing.

I searched on some forums about tools.
Nope. Nothing, but I did read a whole bunch of interesting stuff about other tools. Bookmarked a few forums for later. Rainy day reading.

I even showed the thing to my dogs and they tried to pee on it.
No, no, no. Dogs should not pee on tools; they should pee on trees, saplings, shrubs, weeds, and concrete blocks.

I sent photos to a friend in Tennessee and asked her to please show the pictures to her husband and his buddies. Nope. Nothing. But...her husband did offer what he knew was a wrong answer. His wrong answer allowed me to change the direction of my research and hurray.

Whoa, I gotta calm down.

Whatever this is, it weighs about 2-3 pounds, the handle is approximately 20 inches long, there is a very sharp blade that's about 5 inches long...well, the part that cuts, not including the two ends that are attached somehow to the metal 'thingie'. I figured it must be to cut wood. Just for fun, I whacked a fence post and yep, it's sharp. Very sharp.

Here are two photos of the tool.


Please, if you know what it is, hold off for a while so people can post some guesses.

If you need any hints I will say that all the hints are already in this blog post.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _

*https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Plogging
**https://therealmgreene.com/blankets-for-dogs/
***http://www.newenglandwaterfalls.com/trailmaintenance.php

Okay, at this point I will do the 'long story short - too late!' thing and say that I did eventually learn what the tool is but telling you flat out would take the fun out of it. I know what the tool is and how to use it. How to sharpen the blade and how to replace the blade if it ever wears out (good thing I brought that bench vise home!) I even know where to buy a new tool like it just in case I want to give someone a gift. Oh, and don't worry about the rust. I know that a soak in some white vinegar and a bit of elbow grease using a wire brush and a green scrubby pad will get rid of the rust and a light coating of oil will prevent new rust.

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