That is a GOOD looking file cabinet. I also find it interesting that your full potential is stored in there. Hopefully NOT in the safe you can't open!

The safe is, thankfully, open. But I do want to try to figure out the combination so I can be all...It's in the vault.

Looks like you could even fit a child or two in there in case of emergencies... not that I, y'know, dream of putting children in filing cabinets or anything...

ColdChef, I may have missed this, but did you do any public discussion/reflection on your dad's death? If not, would you be interested in sharing it now? You've got such an interesting perspective on death, and considering that your dad was in the business too I'd be fascinated to read your thoughts. (If that's not too intrusive.)

Hm, that's an interesting idea, Madamina. And I could really seeing being something to write and record for This I Believe, or This American Life. Of course you may prefer to keep it quiet, but I agree that your particular and very unusual mix of humor, sweetness, mischief, life experience, and verbal abilities would combine to create an excellent reflection that could impact lots of people, where it counts.

Oh, and also? Congrats. File cabinets DO suck. I'm on my 3rd one and it's already turned to crap. I fantasize about lucking into a really old wooden one. Barring that, a midcentury, actual steel one would be next best.

ColdChef, I may have missed this, but did you do any public discussion/reflection on your dad's death?

Besides this blog post, not really. I mean, I'll mention it in passing every now and then, but I've never really dug too deeply (pun intended) into his death and burial. Not online anyways. But I'm happy to answer any specific questions anyone might have about my experiences. My views death are always from an unusual point of view...one that I'm not sure even I understand.

(Also: My Father's Last Gift to me)

Oh! And this. Dad's instructions to us.

I agree that your particular and very unusual mix of humor, sweetness, mischief, life experience, and verbal abilities would combine to create an excellent reflection that could impact lots of people, where it counts.

That is exceptionally kind of you to say.

They're either paper-thin and dent from your fingertips or they're a million pounds and fireproof, waterproof, and bombproof.

This is true. We actually have an honest-to-god fireproof 4-drawer filing cabinet in my office. Once, my brother (who used to work here too) and I were tasked with moving it to another floor. That was quite difficult to do, not least because the elevator wouldn't move with both of us plus the cabinet in it. Too heavy. I looked it up in the catalog later and found out it weighs 600 pounds.

Later, our office moved to another building. It took six guys from the moving company to move that cabinet. And, years later, it's still on the 4-wheel dolly they put it on, because nobody can figure out how to get it off there without killing someone. I suggested if anybody wants to move it again, we just buy a new one and have it delivered to the right spot. I believe they are shipped directly from hell.

That handwritten note about his wishes is so moving.

I couldn't see your tweets from that day, but if you ever feel like putting together a post or even a video about it, narrating the timeline but also sharing some of the wonderful photos... man, that would be something.

I don't mean to pressure you about something so personal, but I'm just so struck by your thoughtfulness.

I couldn't see your tweets from that day, but if you ever feel like putting together a post or even a video about it, narrating the timeline but also sharing some of the wonderful photos... man, that would be something.

Maybe one day. Thanks for the encouragement. I'm not sure if I have enough distance yet for the perspective I'd need, but I will definitely do that in the future.

Cool cabinet, cc. I used to love the old stuff my father brought to the house after his factory burned down (around 1978). Desks, old (manual) typewriters, a bag of black and white pencils with the factory info. on them (The Bridgeport Bed Spring Co.). There was a safe, too, I remember. There isn't a lot left now (my mom, bless her, is a bit of a neat freak). I do have the name plate from my dad's desk, though, and one of the pencils. September 4th, it'll be twelve years since my dad died. It seems like a long time ago and not long at all at the same time. Recently, at my mom's, I came across some old papers with his handwriting. I hadn't seen his handwriting in a long time and it stopped me cold. My mom still talks about her father's death like it was yesterday, and that was over fifty years ago. I do have an old letter my father sent me when I was in college. He talked about snow.

My father didn't plan much for his funeral, other than having the plots for him and my mom. I don't think he thought he was really ever going to die. I remember going with my mom and brothers to pick out the casket, simple cherry wood with a star of David. He would've thought it was too expensive.

The safe is, thankfully, open. But I do want to try to figure out the combination so I can be all...It's in the vault.

A locksmith could probably figure out the combination for you and/or take out the old lock and install a new one. It's a great looking old relic and it would definitely be cooler for you if it was fully functional.

If the safe is open a locksmith can definitely either work out the combination or re-set it to one of your choice.

ColdChef, I may have missed this, but did you do any public discussion/reflection on your dad's death?
If you ever do, please tell us, because that is something that I would dearly love to read.