All Tomorrow's Picnics

When we arrived at the H. V. Burns Farm in Townsend, TN at the end of July, Kenneth and I knew that we'd spend a day or so fixing the place up: little had been done-- cleaned or organized-- there since Kenneth's grandfather passed away five years ago. The candles posted yesterday attest to the state of things. Prior to his death, Herbert, in his 90s, lived there alone, and like most folks in their 90s he didn't see well and therefore didn't clean or tidy particularly well. I in no way mean to disrespect Herbert (I myself live in more filth than I'm willing to acknowledge). I simply want to establish the fact that the place was a bit of a mess when we arrived. Kitchen knobs and pulls were tacky to the touch, frequently used drawers and doors had significant soil marks, and so forth. In the clean up and clean out, I collected a number of items, curiosities if you will, that had to be photographed before they were thrown away:


a few dozen salt packets rubber-banded together



packet of plastic cutlery with the carcass of a critter and the critter's leavings inside the sealed plastic



change purse filled with sugar substitutes

Pondering these items, Kenneth and I spoke of Appalachian thrift (Herbert once transformed an unused VW-- airtight windows still intact-- into a fruit dryer) and the amazing impact of the Great Depression. Then we tossed them away.