"CLEAN-UP"

New Zealand Herald, Volume LXXVII, Issue 23618, 30 March 1940, Page 10 (Supplement)

"CLEAN-UP"

Getting Rid

CL\-\-rr E'VE simply got to get rid \ \/ of some of this old junk," VY says the determined housewife one crisp Saturday morning. "We'll never wear the things or use them again. They only take up space, gather dust, and act as a fire hazard." Everyone agrees, including Dad. So the whole family sets to in this eerie occupation of "getting rid of things." But no one reckons with that deadly, intangible quality called sentiment, which attaches itself to possessions which have been in a family for years. The Old Trunk "The girls" don aprons and dustcaps, the men folk put on old trousers, and thev all troop up to the attic, Where tlie cleaning up process is to begin. "We'll tackle this old trunk first," savs Mother, getting down 011 her knees before a huge, rounded wooden container, banded with tin, that looks as if it had come out of an ancient pirate ship. She lifts out a dusty tissue-paper package and unwraps —her wedding gown! Twenty-five years of concealment have turned the ivory satin a mellower shado. It rustles uncannily, with a sound of actual life, as the paper is torn from it. It is split in the iolds. Tho cobweb veil which had been worn with it crhmbles away in Mother's trembling hands. "Not this," she says, softly, pressing the parcel to her heart. "I can't part with this." And Dad re-

moves his pipe long enough to say fiercely: "You bet you can't! Put it away Felicia. Maybe one of the girls can wear it at her wedding." And to these two, at least, come memories of a long-gone bridal morning, when all the world was young. No, this funny-looking fur tippet can't he thrown out, either. Maybe some day it can be sewed on a coat for Dora's little daughter, Letty. Sister Frances used to wear it when she was a little tot- And how cute she did look in it! Frances is now an elderly lady, with a persimmon-tasting expression around her mouth, but at this moment, at any rate, she is a pretty, smiling little girl in a brown tippet. Old Memories So it goes. Old clothes hare old memories hidden in their folds. Back they go again into the old trunks and packing cases. There they will stay until the girls inherit them and thirty or forty years hence their children will look them over again, with appraising eyes, wanting to throw them out, yearning to keep them "in remembrance.'' Well—on to the old furniture stacked up in this dusty corner. There is a chorus of sneezes as the coating of dust is shaken up by this intrusion. "What! Use that highchair for wood for the fireplace!" There is Jiorror in Mother's voice. "It used to be Em-

By CAROL BIRD, Illustrated by DOROTHY WALL

met's when he was a baby." Emmet is now n man and married and with babies of his own. Give it to Emmet. Jun. ? Oh, no. He has a highchair. We'll just keep this a little longer." "Well, what about this old blue water jug and tho tumblers?" asks Dad, leaning over a packing case. "We haven't used these for fifteen years." Mother shakes her head. "No, let those alone, Fred. Those are crackleware and cost a pretty penny now. We got them from Aunt Matilda, don't you remember, on our glass wedding anniversary ? And she inherited them from her Aunt Deborah. Maybe I'll use them next summer for serving lemonade on our side verandah." Bathing Suits Out come some old bathing suits from the clothes closet. The girls burst into shrieks of laughter. "Mother! You never wore that dreadful thing, did you ?" They hold it up. spreadeagled to view. A long modest black skirt of bengaline that must have reached The ankles, long hose under that, a floppy black hat to match, and black, soberlookiiiK canvas shoes. "Better than the things you wear to-dav," snaps Dad, somehow angry at the daughter's mirth. Their mother did look sweet and demure as she stood 011 the beach waiting a bit timidly to take her first dip in the cold water. He'll

never forget that. It was the day he proposed to her! Memories! Here they come again to block the prosaic act of "chucking out the old junk." "No." says Mother, "we'll just keep that old suit. It's fun for me to look at it occasionally, it's such a pleasant contrast to the bold swim suits you girls wear to-day."