Sunday, April 11, 2010
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The Lysol can just about sums up my childhood. My Great Aunt Hilda (hoarder extrordinare) was totally addicted to it. She carried Lysol everywhere. Couldn't use a public bathroom without it. That smell is forever ingrained in my memory (along with Porcelana & Jergens). She was a germ phobic yet lived in a hovel. I adored her, she taught me all about yard sales (still have my prized A&W root bear bear after all these years..I only paid 5 cents for it) and second hand stores. I was at her house nearly every day & I spent vast amounts of time living in some distant past among all the out of date items. She had phone books from 1966, plates from 1935 & clothes from 1952. She kept everything...from cereal boxes and a skeleton of a seahorse to samples of the first mini pads that didn't use a belt...she was well past 70 and had no need for them, but she said they made good coasters.
My aunt passed away when I was 13. I went to live in California for a few months. My mom cleared out the whole house while I was gone and I've never quite gotten over it.