Still thinking about quality vs cost.  My dad who I have written about already and will write about a lot more, was a quality guy.  He never threw stuff out, and he didn't buy much either.  He still slept on the same mattress I slept on as a girl.  He died on that mattress.  It wasn't even a mattress, it was a piece of foam rubber that was cut to fit my bed.  He said "after I die, just roll this old thing up and take it to the dump."  Really Dad?  You don't think we should save it?  It's only a 41 yr old piece of foam rubber, someone might want it.  I now have dishes, silverware, and pottery that I had when I was growing up.  Same stuff.   All miss matched and chipped.

Dad had a uniform.  Blue jeans, white tshirt and a red hooded sweatshirt.  That's it.  Everyday.  Sometimes if it was cold in New Hampshire, he would wear a white thermal with his red sweatshirt.  Shoes changed too.  Red converse sneakers for town and outings, work boots for the rest of the time.  Sometimes duck boots if it was wet and muddy.  Oh, and tube socks, with the two stripes of color on top.   He wore his red converse sneakers with his rented tuxedo at my wedding.

After my Dad passed away, I was going through his clothes, putting things in bags for donation.  I found white t-shirts that you could literally read through, they were so worn.  Red sweatshirts with holes in the sleeves, jeans that I recognized from childhood.  He saved and he used everything he bought until there was nothing left.  I think in order for my Dad to throw something out it would have had to literally disintigrate or spontaneously combust.  I don't really know since I had never seen him throw something away.

It reminded me of a time when I went to visit him with my first child.  My son was just a baby, a toddler, and I was concerned about keeping him occupied while we were there.  Dad having no tv or running water.  I brought so much stuff.  Still living under the false impression that things equal happiness.  What must my Dad have thought about all those shiny plastic toys with buttons that make noise?  It embarasses me to think about it.  All that stuff I brought into his little house and took over.  My son never even really played with that stuff, there was too much of it.

Now that my Dad is gone, I think about that visit.  What a wasted opportunity to spend simple, quiet quality time with my dad and my son.  Bringing too much stuff to any party is going to cloud things, complicate and distort.  How can you enjoy simplicity while in chaos?  I think my son would have had fun with a piece of string, or a fascinating sparkly rock.  Instead we listened to the sounds of electronic toys saying school bus, and I love you, and sirens.

Dad bought quality.  His pots and pans,  Le Creuset, enameled cast iron of the finest quality.  His art supplies, the best available.  His artwork and rugs, very fine examples.  No, he wasn't rich, not even close.  After he retired he lived on social security.  That is it.  No pension, no investments, no dividends. Just $14,000 bucks a year.  And he always managed to send me a few hundred bucks here and there.  Many, many times in my life I have cleaned out my attic or my basement and thrown out garbage bags full of stuff.   Stuff that wasn't needed in the first place.  I love looking around my house and finding items that I've had for a long time.  Until last year I had a t-shirt that I wore to sleep in that was so thread bare that it was barely a covering at all.  Hubby finally convinced me to throw it out.  It was hard.  I had worn that tshirt since high school.  There are gifts that we recieved for our wedding, beautiful things that I cherish.  And now I have my Dad's things, quality items with meaning.  May your home be filled with quality items with meaning.