Bakers Standards 1981

What do we do with the things that our parents had when they die?
Do we keep them all? ranging from clothing to furniture to those little nicky nacky things that they accumulated through their own lifetime. Somethings are meant to be kept, such as heirlooms that are financially or emotionally valuable, as well as family traditions no matter how odd or quirky they are.

The Dutch tradition of giving the wife a piece of heirloom jewellery for every baby born is an easy one. I was given my grandmothers ring that marked the birth of my mother when I married. The beautiful sapphire and diamond ring was given to my mother when she married and I will pass it to one of my daughters when they marry, hopefully sometime this century.
Endearing pieces might be fought over by the children, but it's the other little things that are retained that are hard to deal with.
My dad was an engineer, I have my house to thank him for as he built the 2 extensions to it over the last 20 years. The tools of his trade were mostly left to my brothers and my sons, and I have been holding on to his technical books since his death almost 10 years ago.
My dad would do anything for anybody. If they needed something built, he would answer their call. He'd rally the troops, roll up his sleeves and stay till the job was done, even if it was his last dying breath. Reward him with a BBQ, a great cup of coffee or a batch of home cooked Anzac biscuits and he'd be yours forever.
He would give people, familiar or strangers, anything of his own if they needed it more than him, he was that generous type of person.

Our garage was incredibly full with stuff stored over the years that last month I couldn't get to the large deep freezer without near disaster. With a twisted knee, a large gouge out of my calf after trying to navigate my way perilously through the warren of precariously stacked items, I thought enough is enough! Garage sale time!!!!!
As I sifted through the junk, found things long since forgotten and a few yucky items that should've been tipped long ago, I came across my dad's book of Bakers Standards, 1981 edition. Nothing to do with cooking, but a builders bible of all things to do with structural elements of building. He had used it religiously and faithfully for any of his building projects over the years. I was hit with a dilemma, after the waves of grief subsided, what do I do with it?
Knowing dad he would have wanted it to go to someone who would use it as lovingly as he did. None of my brothers would need it now and my older boys have gone into far different trades. I asked Ritch, but being 14, he just gave me a perplexed look of uncertainty.
I decided to put it with the 200 other books at the garage sale and carefully scrutinise any who might want to buy it. It needed to go to someone special.
Saturday the big garage sale day, saw most of the books gone, by Sunday morning it was left with the few stragglers, and I was still coming to grips if I was doing the right thing.
My oldest daughter on Sunday morning borrowed my car as her little red vroom vroom car was being serviced. She was only going to be 2 hours. Towards the end of the day, with very little left including my dads book, Zip was overdue by 4 hours. She wasn't answering her mobile either, a slight tinge of panic was sitting on my stomach. When a police car turned up at the front, my heart sank, had my daughter been involved in an accident? I waited to see if both the officers took of their caps, then I would know. They didn't! finishing their shift they saw the sale and came to have a look. Phew!

One officer, called Brian saw the book and went into a hysterical song and dance act of joy right on the spot. An odd sight for a big burly man of over 6 foot in height. He had had the same book, same year, but borrowed it out to a friend who ended up loosing it. He had been on a quest to find the rare book ever since. His original one was his father's and it caused him a lot of grief not having it. Being a budding builder he felt incomplete without it.
We spent the next half hour talking about dad's in general; the good, the wonderful, the funny.

My dad's book went to exactly where it was supposed to go, to someone who would love, appreciate, honour and get great value from the book, the same way he did. It would live on I know, but after they left, I had to race inside for a handful of tissues.