Sometimes, for one of Janet's contests, I read the words, and one stands out as "the word" that launches the story. This week, nada. Because the key"words" came from this
and were:
tony
peter
mick
nick
bill
In fact, I sent her a tweet to tell her she was a sadist. But I thought it over, and kept coming back to "nick" as "knickknack." And from there arose "The Long & Winding Road."
I paid the bill. It was all mine now. The manager cut the padlock.
“Some of it weighs a ton. You might want a dolly. We close at 8:00.”
Then he left me alone with the knickknacks of a life I’d spent years imagining.
A blonde Fender Telecaster. 1962 model, or thereabouts.
Postcards from haphazard stops along Route 66.
Personally autographed posters of Mick Jagger and Peter Frampton.
A well-worn little black book. That I kept.
I closed the door, and left the rest for scavengers, one step closer to knowing the man the birth certificate called my father.
Did any of you all discover anything interesting while going through your parents' old things? Share.
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