Monday, May 5, 2014

The Glories of the City Dump

When I was a kid there was a place that affected me like metal drawn to a magnet, our town’s very own Disneyland—the City Dump.
Like many boys, I looked forward to our annual trip to this place of riches and enchantment. The visit was preceded by Mom telling Dad it was time to clean out the garage because it was getting difficult to squeeze the car inside. It was a mystery to me how she knew this since she didn’t drive, but before long Dad would be cleaning out the garage and borrowing grandpa’s old pickup for the journey to junk nirvana. Read about it (here).


  1. Never heard of the term The Farm before, but the wallet thing reminded me of one year when my grandma got me (in high school) a pocket-watch for Christmas. Is this the 19th century. You got the time? Yeah let me check my pocket.

  2. ha. as kids we def have a different of possibility in everything...esp all the treasures at the dump, for sure....its like a big free garage sale...smiles.

  3. I live with a couple of genuine hoarders, which makes me feel better about my tendencies toward holding onto stuff long after I remember why. What makes it even more ironic is that climbing over stuff is usually as hard on them as it is me, but when I go to confront them, they freely admit that they should have thrown me out long ago. Sigh.