February 27, 2005 – The Collector

February 27, 2005 – The Collector

My father has one more duty that he owes to his departed friend Charles Upton, who passed away in early 2004: to take care of his collection of accumulated belongings for lack of a better word. I accompanied my dad to Mr. Upton’s house a few blocks from my parents’ place. Imagine the clutter of a home where nothing was discarded. Every newspaper, magazine—vintage Playboy and every other man’s magazine of the mid-20th century, book—every genre western, detective, literary works, etc—garage sale item, musical instrument—who collects accordions anymore, decorative wall hanging—prints and original oil (though some had the numbers showing through), unopened purchases with store receipts in the store bags.

I know why my father has a difficult time getting rid of any of Mr. Upton’s collection: he cannot get rid of any of his accumulated belongings. In the basement of our house is the darkroom set my father bought for me when I was in eighth grade along with boxes of expired developing paper—some of which contained naughty pictures that the soldier who sold it to my father hid there, the collected school work of my sisters and me, pictures—countless pictures of us growing up that didn’t make it into the photo albums, winemaking equipment and bottles of wine my father produced that have not been consumed by the neighbors, and tools—the collection goes back to the late 1940s—many of them Craftsman’s from Sears as well as others collected for special jobs on cars, truck and houses over the years.

The solution in my father’s mind was to build a large metal shed to contain all Mr. Upton’s belongings as well as my dad’s. He purchase the metal shed and it was stored in a trailer that my brother “D” made available to dad until it could be constructed. This was some six to eight months ago. The lag in getting the construction completed was the result of trying to get permission from the city to construct the building on my father’s property that Mr. Upton sold my dad over twenty-five years ago. It was fitting that the building should go up there not only because the property once belonged to Mr. Upton but also it was large enough to house the huge structure. When erected, not only will it hold all Mr. Upton’s belonging but five old cars that had sat on the property for over thirty years.

After countless rounds with city representatives trying to get a permit to construct the building, my father was taken aside by one of the city employees and told to put the building up without a permit since it fell into the category of a temporary structure. Frustrated at the delays, my father took the employees advice and contracted with “G” to build the structure. “G”, a friend of my father, who happens to be a general contractor, has been doing work for my dad for the past ten years. He built a second story to my parent’s home large enough to house my youngest sister, my wife “I” and I, and daughter “M” and family and daughter “R” and family, though it is tight. “G” also purchased a duplex from my father with my dad carrying the note. “G” now wants to buy Mr. Upton’s place, the sale of which is contingent on getting all Mr. Upton’s possessions safely stowed in the huge metal shed.

While my dad had been dealing with the city over the permit, “G” had poured the foundation for the building—a huge cement slab from which the building would rise. A month ago “G” got going erecting the structure. His hired workers quickly completed the job and in no time the structure was complete except for two doors, one large garage size door that could handle large items like my dad’s five cars and a smaller office size door. The former proved to be the more troublesome of the two to get completed. Instead of paying the rather large price the company that sold my father the building wanted for the door, my brother “D” had a door of the same size he could get from a building that was building demolished. The demolition proved to be the factor that delayed the door’s delivery. The building contained asbestos and the city had to determine what parts were contaminated before any of the parts could be salvaged. That took three weeks but once it was released, my brother “D” and his helpers had it installed in a day.

The office door was the one last element that needed to be added before the building could be secured and Mr. Upton collection could be relocated to their final resting place. A week ago, my brother “D” installed the office door finishing up just as one of El Paso’s rare drenching rains started. Taking shelter from the rain inside the building, “D” noticed that one area of the roof was leaking water. When my father bought this to “G”’s attention, he owned up to the fact that one part of the roof had been installed backwards but when he discovered the error, he didn’t think it would cause a problem. The rain, however, dispelled that notion and “G” made arrangements to repair the problem. I told my dad to make sure he tested the fix to make sure that it was repaired correctly. I expect the construction to be finally completed in March and Mr. Upton’s belongings can be moved to their new home.

Thinking of my father and his possessions I’m reminded that it is human nature to acquire. If the tombs of Egypt tell us anything it is that humans have acquired belongings for as long as there has been civilization to enable and protect their accumulations. I’m reminded of a story my sister told at the last family gathering about her friend “P” who had been nursing the aging El Paso-based novelist Tom Lea—the book I remember him for is Brave Bulls, but there were many others as well as paintings. Lea’s family lacked anyone with my father’s reverence for the accumulated belongings of the artist. There was an estate sale and all those items collected over a lifetime were scattered into the collections of others who like Lea needed to possess them for their time on earth.

I asked my dad what will become of Mr. Upton’s belongings once he is no longer around to ensure they are housed. My dad wisely willed the property and the building and its contents to my brother “D” who shares my father’s acquisitive nature.