We're selling what?

Resslin' Around by Casey Ressler

When my folks said they were having a garage sale, it was music to my wife's ears -- her big chance to get rid of stuff. Like most guys, however, I saw it as a chance to rob us of who I am.

It took my wife a few minutes to come up with hundreds of things that we needed to sell. First on the list was our old gas grill, since replaced by a bigger and better one. "Uh, can't do that, honey," I told her. "That grill was a part of my life before you even were. You don't know how many memories I have of grillin' and chillin' with my buddies in the good old days -- you know, when I was a bachelor. We can't get rid of that grill."

She moved on to other things, which I quickly pulled off the "for sale" pile, like the two homemade tin-foil replicas of the Lombardi Trophy (commemorating the two Super Bowl wins for the Broncos) and my John Elway bobble-head doll. "Baby, if we sold that stuff, what would I build my Sunday shrine to the Broncos with during football season? Those things stay," was my reply.

She found softball cleats I wore in college (took second place in the intramural tournament at Michigan State -- they stay as a memento of my 2 for 4 day in the championship game in 1993), skis I haven't used in years and an old baseball mitt I never used (memories are pretty foggy on the mitt, but you never, ever get rid of a baseball mitt because it's bad karma). All the while, I didn't see her throwing the dust collector/bread machine appliance on the heap.

"Casey, do you know what this bat is?" my wife yelled up from the crawl space.

I took one look at it and immediately identified it -- it was my bat during my last season in Little League, when we beat Valdez 33-6 in the opening round of All-Stars. "Absolutely, positively no way that bat is going," I told her. "I came off the bench in the last inning and got a single. The next game we got blown out by Abbott-O-Rabbitt and I didn't play. I think that bat is good luck."

My wife gathered up all the items that were left -- some candle thingees, old clothing and a bag of that smelly stuff women call potpourri. I unwillingly relented on a couple of items.

My stubborness on other important items -- the Lombardi trophies, the Elway bobble-head -- I saw as just something any other guy in my shoes would do. Go ahead, have your little garage sale. I've still got my little Elway.

Casey Ressler (valleylife@frontiersman.com) is the Valley Life editor.