In my Mother’s garage lie the belongings of one Herman R. Silverstein. For two tears she has hemmed and hawed about what to do with his things. No one in my family ever knew Mr. Silverstein. His belongings came to my mother’s garage along with other assorted items from the flea market my mother trolls every weekend for items to sell on Ebay. My mother, who before the auction craze was an occasional collector of depression glass, now has a full-blown addiction, which she supports by selling off unwanted items on Ebay.
Mr. Silverstein’s army trunk stood out, and it caused a bit of a ruckus among some of the antique dealers who constantly try to one up each other. The trunk was sold by a man who didn’t know Mr. Silverstein either but who frequently buys items from lien sales at storage sites. The trunk holds a wealth of WWII memorabilia — highly valuable and sought after items. His uniform, helmet army issued prayer book. Even the trunk itself is worth quite a bit, but my mother’s conscience just keeps getting in the way of profit.
Every couple months or so my mother poses the question “What should I do about Mr. Silverstein?” She hasn’t the heart to sell his possessions. I doubt she ever will.