The Unfettered Critic – December 2025 / January 2026

RECENTLY, we needed an empty box. We spotted one that looked to be the perfect size underneath a stack of other boxes in the far back corner of our garage, and thought perhaps we could cannibalize it. That necessitated moving several other stacks so we could work our way over to it. Finally, we brought the box into the house, and sliced through the tape. Keep in mind now, this box had been packed and sealed by a professional moving company in California seventeen years earlier when we were prepping to move here. Why it never got unpacked (it isn’t alone) we can’t (or won’t) explain.

Anyway, it turns out the box contained some tools from a workbench PLUS a second sealed box, this one clearly marked “FedEx” and dated the week we’d moved.

Yes, it seems that a FedEx delivery was made while the movers were working and they just scooped it up and dropped it into this box. We never knew. Luckily, the delivery contained something relatively insignificant, so finding it there was a surprise, a silly surprise, really, and we were mildly entertained by it (which, we’re hoping, qualifies it to fit into this “entertainment” column).

Our point here is that this encounter with the stacks of stuffed boxes in our garage served as a reminder that we have stacks of stuffed boxes in our garage. And thus it reminded us of a universal question: What does one do with all that “ticky tacky?”

Margaret Barnes, longtime guardian of Jacksonville’s beloved antique-ish establishment Pickety Place, once let us in on a closely guarded professional secret. “Nobody wants your parents’ stuff,” she said—by which she meant all of that cherished dinnerware, wine glasses, silverware, furniture, etcetera that you grew up surrounded by.

WHAT???

You mean we’ve been keeping those dusty Prussian teapots and the Oneida Community Silver-Plated “tarnish proof” flatware for naught???

Well, not “for naught.” Marge admits that some of it will be wanted by someone. But who knows when that someone will speak up? Do you have enough storage space to wait that long?

Even weightier, you know that old upright piano that Grandma left you? Nobody wants that either, because today’s electric keyboards can be stored under the bed when not in use. And that solid oak roll-top desk taking up space in your dining room? The one that weighs three-hundred pounds and is sturdy enough to support your classic IBM Selectric typewriter, or its replacement, your desktop computer? Well, guess what? Today’s computer can ride along in a pocket or a backpack and has no need for a central location in your house.

So what happens to all your “stuff,” as the late great George Carlin lovingly called it?

As we said at the beginning, and yes, because we’re Unfettered we can repeat ourselves—it ends up in boxes. Stacks and stacks of taped-up boxes that we likely don’t remember packing or taping. The ones that we’d have to think about not bumping into with our cars except that we never park there because the garage is filled with stacks of taped-up boxes, and we don’t have a clue what could be in them.

Luckily, all of this leads us to a second moment of “entertainment.” Ready? One day Paula was looking for something and she happened to come across a container with the name “Florence” written on it.

“Did this belong to your mother?” she asked.

“That IS my mother,” Terry answered, carefully lifting the sealed container of cremated ashes from her hands.

Really. And with that, we’re outa here.

Happy holidays, folks!