“You kids leave Garbage Grandma alone,” we were told when the old woman began rummaging through trash cans on our street.
Our moms canceled the Salvation Army trucks and for the next two years stopped donating to thrift stores.
The day after we heard Garbage Grandma had died, we jimmied a window and snuck into her house.
Along with trash, we found our photos, toys and trophies.
What our parents had thrown away, Garbage Grandma had salvaged, cleaned and displayed.
And in chalk, she’d scrawled on a wall, “Welcome, My Family.”
We never did find out her name.
Our moms canceled the Salvation Army trucks and for the next two years stopped donating to thrift stores.
The day after we heard Garbage Grandma had died, we jimmied a window and snuck into her house.
Along with trash, we found our photos, toys and trophies.
What our parents had thrown away, Garbage Grandma had salvaged, cleaned and displayed.
And in chalk, she’d scrawled on a wall, “Welcome, My Family.”
We never did find out her name.
