1. He spent Thursday afternoon loading the 26’ truck with my stuff. I helped by carrying the light stuff and telling James, the friend who was helping us, which box went next.
2. He drove the truck 650 miles. I helped by not complaining that he wanted to listen to the NCAA tournament.
3. When we realized that we would not be able to get into the storage unit where he has his Corvair because of the snow, he found a new place to put my stuff. I helped by saying, “Where are we going to put everything? How will we unload?”
4. He unloaded the truck and got all my stuff into a 10’ x 10’ space, which required that he pack every square inch of it. Boxes are stacked to the ceiling, light things are stuffed on top of the mattresses, and all my chairs (I got about eight from my grandmother’s basement, in addition to the seven I already had) are linked in a complex puzzle on top of the sofa. I would have taken a picture except the batteries on my camera died. I helped by saying, “It’s never going to fit!” (Every man needs a challenge to reach his potential.)
5. He maneuvered the truck around almost impossible corners in the storage place with inches to spare, but didn’t get one scratch on it. (There would have been more room had it not been for the piles of snow pushed to the edges.) I helped by biting my fingernails and worrying.
6. He missed the Wisconsin game so we could get everything unloaded.
The end of the line
11 months ago