So my parents never threw anything out

It was probably his bomb shelter for when the "big one" hits.

 

Probably. It wasn't a proper shelter, as bomb shelters go, but probably the best he could do.

 

My dad isn't a hoarder, he just saves certain things and never throws some stuff away he should. When you live in the same house for 50+ years, it just adds up.

Isn't there a book out about those two brothers in New York?

Edit: Found it:

http://search.barnesandnoble.com/booksearch/isbnInquiry.asp?r=1&ISBN=9781588368973&ourl=Homer%2Dand%2DLangley%2FE%2DL%2DDoctorow&cm_mmc=Google%20Product%20Search-_-Q000000630-_-Homer%20and%20Langley-_-9781588368973

 

My mom is the same way. I once got hungry and decided to open a can of Spaghetti-Os. When I opened it, they smelled bad. I looked at the bottom of the can, and found out it was a 12-year-old can.

Still, you never know when something might be valuable. Look at all those people who are on Antiques Roadshow. A stupid little piece of whatever ends up worth several thousand dollars.

 

The Collyer brothers... There's been several articles written about them as well.

 

My grandparents have a guest house that is filled with stuff. And two 12x12 storages buildings.

Some of it (my grandfather's tools and firearms collection, some antiques) might have value. The rest is junk. I'm talking those 1970s folding lawn chairs with the polyester webbing for a seat. But with most of the seat missing. Box fans that don't work.

Before she died, I asked my grandmother why they didn't hold a big yard sale to get rid of most of the stuff. She mentioned the Depression and how you didn't throw anything away back then. Stuck with her the rest of her life.

 

My parents were Depression kids, but they've gotten better about the constant stashing/hoarding.

 

I found a 30-year-old can of Iron City Beer in my grandma's basement.

 

Look on the good side, age can't make it taste any worse.

 

I had never heard of the Collyer brothers until now. Fascinating stuff.

Is there a difference, though, between being someone who grew up in the Depression and not wanting to waste anything, and someone who is a hoarder? I can see both sides.

I once worked at an Italian bakery where one of the seven brothers who owned it - now 92, and the last surviving - watched over everyone like a hawk and would give someone hell if they used an extra piece of cheese or put on too much lettuce for a person's grinder. He also kept half the flourescent lights on in the store - which hasn't seen a remodel since it was built in 1956 - and peed outside so as not to flush the toilet (and save water). The same pans, baking equipment and everything hasn't changed. You could argue that he grew up in the Depression and made sure to save as much money wherever possible; that family is now very well-off despite the bakery having no advertising and it being strictly word-of-mouth.

Then there's the other side, which is my best friend's father. He's 70, and he buys EVERYTHING in bulk. Their basement is filled with boxes of sandwich bags, green beans, syrup ... everything. I feel so bad for my friend because when the time comes that his parents come out of that house for the final time, he's the one who's going to have to clean up all that stuff. And it will be a massive undertaking.

Two other quick stories, both from my small, farming hometown:

a) Another friend's grandparents lived in a three-story farmhouse that dated from 1901. When both died, they were cleaning out the house and discovered a staircase while cleaning out a closet. When they got to the top of the stairs, they found a room filled with newspapers from the 1950s, tons of tractor advertisements (they own a tractor store in town) and such. It was probably the first time someone had opened the door in 40 years.

b) A fire happened in one of the oldest houses in town that had been in the same family since the 1700s. When firefighters tried to get inside, they found paths going from room to room because there was junk piled from floor to ceiling.

 

My grandmother packed up china and crystal for my aunt and uncle last weekend without a peep. Sorting through the rest of her stuff -- particularly five closets worth of clothes -- to figure out what she's going to take with her if she moves into assisted living will likely take considerably more effort. However, she can't wait to call 1-800-GOT-JUNK!

 

One of the Super Bowl editions? Because that would rock.