It's interesting what people choose to drag through their lives with no thought to whether or not they'll ever need or use the stuff.  Case in point:  us.  We're in the process of going through everything in the house.  Sam has turned his attention to his workshop and came upon this:

(Those of you from the Williamsport PA area will remember Robert Hall Village on Lycoming Creek Road.  Just how old is this yardstick anyway?  I still wear a sweater I bought there for $3.)

But I have digressed.  The wrench says "Williamsport PA" on one side and "Darling" on the other.  (The same people who remember Robert Hall Village will remember Darling Valve.)  It's solid brass, 16 inches long and weighs five pounds.  We're guessing it was used to open the fire hydrants that were made at Darling.  It belonged to Sam's grandfather and then his father and now Sam.  Why have we kept it all these years?  Dunno.  We've contacted the historical museum in Williamsport to see if they want it.

Department of wretched excess:  Here is Sam's collection of screwdrivers.  There are others that didn't make the pictures.

Although to be fair, the middle collection is a set of nut drivers.  He's in the midst of sorting through all his tools and will get rid of duplications.  Son and Grandson alert:  If you want any tools, let Dad/Grandpa know.  He's thinking of taking them to the Salvation Army.

We put a filing cabinet and two shelving units out by the curb the other day during "take anything" trash pickup week, and they were gone within hours.  We've never yet put anything out by the curb that wasn't snapped up by someone.  One's man's trash ...

Here's something to think about the next time we're tempted to blame bad parenting when a young person picks up a gun and goes on a rampage.  I remember when the do-gooders had so many mental hospitals closed, thinking the people would be taken in by family or friends or could manage on their own.  That resulted in myriads of homeless people who were at the mercy of those who wanted to take advantage of them.  Now there aren't the facilities needed to treat all those with mental illnesses unless you're very rich and can afford private institutions.  And it's very difficult to get treatment for the mentally ill if they don't agree to treatment.  Most of them don't and won't.

How many young people like the boy in this story are out there?  Way too many.  What are we doing to provide places where they can get treatment?  Not much.

(Thanks to Joan for this reference.)

Thus says the LORD:  “A voice is heard in Ramah, lamentation and  bitter weeping. Rachel is weeping for her children; she refuses to be  comforted for her children, because they are no more.” [Jeremiah 31:15]

... and their families.  Please God, put your loving arms around them all.

COMMENTARY ON THE EVENTS OF THE TIMES

And once again a pretty picture to take your mind off it.  This was taken in the White Mountains of New Hampshire.

I snagged this from Natalie's blog today and am putting it here just to show you how nicely my family cleans up.  Natalie, of course, always looks good but the guys ...

Son Ken, grandkids Natalie and Stephen. 

Disclaimer:  The apostrophe in "thanks" is not my fault.

And this one just because it's so pretty.

LOOK WHO'S BACK!

Toby the Highly Dignified Cat - here to spend the holidays while his people, once again, have fun in foreign lands without him.

A HEARTWARMING STORY FOR THE CHRISTMAS SEASON 

As a bagpiper, I play many gigs.  Recently I was asked by a funeral director to play at a graveside service for a homeless man. He had no family or friends, so the service was to be at a pauper's cemetery in the Kentucky back country.  As I was not familiar with the backwoods, I got lost and, being a typical man, I didn't stop for directions.
 
I finally arrived an hour late and saw the funeral guy had evidently gone and the hearse was nowhere in sight. There were only the diggers and crew left and they were eating lunch. I felt bad and apologized to the men for being late. I went to the side of the grave and looked down and the vault lid was already in place.  I didn't know what else to do, so I started to play.
 
The workers put down their lunches and began to gather around. I played out my heart and soul for this man with no family and friends. I played like I've never played before for this homeless man. And as I played “Amazing Grace,” the workers began to weep. They wept, I wept, we all wept together.  When I finished I packed up my bagpipes and started for my car.  Though my head hung low, my heart was full.

As I opened the door to my car, I heard one of the workers say, "I never seen nothin' like that before and I've been putting in septic tanks for twenty years."
 
Apparently I'm still lost ...

Don't worry about the fiscal cliff.  It's not a problem.  The Obama family leaves for a $4 million taxpayer-paid vacation in Hawaii on December 17 and will return January 6.  If the fiscal cliff was a problem, they wouldn't be doing that, would they?