How many times have you heard this familiar tale: elderly parents die, and in the process of dividing up the inheritance, there are major disagreements between the two or three offspring, causing a permanent rift? In our world, this appears to be a common theme. Would you believe a story about ten siblings who harmoniously and fairly divided up their deceased parents' worldly goods, without even one harsh word?! I know it is true because I saw it with my own eyes. 

I am talking, of course, about Larry's brothers and sisters. Ralph, the patriarch of the family, died in early 2012, having lived a long, full life. He and Sarah were only apart for seven months, before she joined him. What a blessing for them to have been able to celebrate sixty-six wedding anniversaries, and to have lived independently, without needing special care, until the last year of their lives! Their funerals were a celebration of who they were, where they were going, and how much they were loved by their posterity. It is a special privilege to be a part of such a family! I must say though, that your first impression upon meeting them, is just how many Schlabachs there are. Ten siblings, their spouses, their kids, and then their kids, always make for a lively gathering (and some amazing Christmas caroling, too)!

The morning after Sarah's funeral, all the siblings rallied for breakfast at a local restaurant. Over pancakes and bacon, conversation commenced regarding the next step, the dividing up of their parents' houseful of possessions. With half of the group living out of state, the challenge was to determine a time when everyone could make the trek back to Sugarcreek. Someone said, "well we are all here now. Why can't we just work over the next few days and take care of it?" And that is what we did. After one last sip of coffee, we adjourned from Der Dutchman Restaurant, and reconvened at the home place. I don't remember how it was divvied up, but soon everyone had a job, going through the various rooms, sorting and categorizing.

With multiple auctioneers in the family, the logical plan was to hold a private auction, attended only by the siblings and their spouses. Since not all the grandkids were in town, none were invited to participate in the bidding; they needed to let their parents know what items they wanted. After all, children from large families know a thing or ten about fairness! Everything in that house, garage, and workshop would be auctioned off. There would be a running total kept of everyone's purchases; these would be deducted from each sibling's inheritance so there would be no money exchanged. Everyone could get what they wanted, providing they were willing to pay whatever an item was worth to them. It was a brilliant plan, and was executed in such a way that would have made Ralph and Sarah proud.  

Dismantling your parents' home is such an odd, but necessary task.  It took several days to organize and sort through the house. The bantering and laughter and story telling helped balance that deep feeling of loss and sadness. As we worked, an item would jog someone's memory, and different siblings would chime in to tell their part of the story. Old photos were separated into ten piles. All of Mom's dishes were pulled out of the cupboards. And how she loved pretty dishes! She had many sets of china, compiled by shopping at thrift stores to find pieces, until she had a complete set. One of Dad's hobbies was coin collecting. There were many nostalgic metal discs, telling the story of his travels and interests. 

Years ago, when Ralph and Sarah were leaning towards retirement, they started spending winters in Pinecraft, that hotbed of Mennonitism in Sarasota, Florida.  Mom took on daily housecleaning jobs for wealthy northern snowbirds, who flew to their beach condos for the winter. These folks became her friends and were the source of endless fascination for curious Sarah. Plus, this meant that she was a working woman and earning her own cash. I think she liked that independence. One year we visited them in Florida, shortly before they returned home to Ohio for the summer. Mom asked Ruby and Larry to help her organize her wages: from the freezer, she pulled ziplock baggies of twenty dollar bills! The jokes about cold, hard cash flew through the air like snowballs, as we helped her line up her money. 

Given Mom's tendency to hide money in odd places, it came as no surprise when a thick, white, athletic sock was discovered in one of her clothing drawers. Bet you can't guess what was in it?! No, it wasn't secret instructions for sewing a cape dress. It was green bills, which were then divided up evenly among her ten favorite children. 

Like many of us, Dad tossed his loose change into a container. When all the coins were rolled and counted, there was nearly $825. There was conversation about what to do with the money. As a Christmas gift, Grandpa and Grandma were fond of giving their thirty-two grandkids gift cards to WalMart. Mary took the coins, someone donated a bit, and three months later, at Christmas, each of the grandchildren received a $30 gift card, one last present from their grandparents. What a sweet token for each of them! Perhaps this family should be cloned! :) 

The actual auction took place the evening of the second day, with granddaughter Erika's husband, Curt, officiating. For five hours, we walked through the house and bid on everything. You could always tell when a sibling wanted a particular item; there would be good natured banter and the price might be nudged up. The sisters said they had a hard time bidding against each other, but not against their brothers. Larry was shocked that the stack of Dad's hats was such a hot ticket item. There were about eight of those well worn fedoras and each one was purchased for a particular grandson. I think this would have made Dad smile. 

Each sibling has their own story to tell about their purchases and the sentimental value attached. Here is Willard's tale, as told by Naomi. "So this is the story: Willard is too heart broken to write it so here goes my version with his help (between gut sobbing sounds!). Ralph apparently purchased this little bottle with a wooden, hand carved scene enclosed inside, from his mother, Emma's estate auction in 1975. The wooden scene is signed by the artist, Daniel Rose, from Johnstown, PA, and dated January, 1921, the year of Ralph's birth. For years, this little bottle sat proudly on the bottom shelf of the china cupboard, so it could be viewed through the glass panel. Willard remembers being mesmerized by this work of art; it is what he most wanted from the auction. He and his twin brother, Willis, got into a bidding war over this item. Willard was overjoyed when he got this precious piece. Before flying back home to Sarasota, he carefully packaged it, wrapped it inside his socks, and then inside one of his shoes, and then inside his checked luggage. When he arrived home, he carefully unpacked; to his horror, he noticed that it was broken! To this day, he is totally heartbroken. He did not even tell us what happened. Several weeks later we found it all neatly laid out inside his desk drawer." 

The items purchased from Mom's kitchen hold the most value to me personally. I think of her fondly every time I use something, whether it's the little copper bottom pot for melting butter, or the heavy glass serving bowls, or the small, wooden handled cheese grater. I have repurposed these wonderful water glasses, which are perfect for cold drinks. Hopefully, Mom wouldn't mind too much.  

I think all the siblings were mindful of getting something with sentimental value for their children as well. The whole process went by so rapidly and seemed so surreal; perhaps it was a little less painful that way, like pulling off a bandaid quickly with one fast jerk, rather than inching it off slowly. Everyone was aware that it was a necessary step, no matter how difficult. We did try to keep the garage door closed to keep the process away from prying eyes; sometimes onlookers can form opinions without really having all the details. Kris said that she kept mentally  apologizing to Mom. 

Larry really only wanted one thing from his parents' estate auction: a curio cabinet known in the family as the fifty cent piece. Over the years, when we would visit Mom and Dad, he would tell me the story of this cabinet. When Larry was a small child, it was purchased by his folks at a sale for fifty cents. It was old and well worn, but served a purpose. This cabinet, with its drawers, shelves, hinged drop-down desk, and little cubbies, was placed in the large, upstairs bedroom, that was sleeping quarters for four Schlabach brothers. I'm sure there are different angles to this story, depending on whom you talk to, but Larry claimed this as his desk. I can just picture him as a studious twelve year old, arranging his pencils and notebooks in the cabinet slots, and hunched over the desk part, doing his homework. In fact, he leaned on the desk so much that the hinges broke and had to be replaced. 

Years later, Mom and Dad had the piece refinished, and it held a place of honor in their living room. To Larry, the fifty cent piece has always symbolized his childhood educational dreams. And that was what he wanted at the auction. Other siblings were interested as well, which resulted in a lively bidding war. Larry was thrilled when he had the final bid! Now to get it home to Chattanooga. $300 and several weeks later, it was delivered to our home. Actually, the delivery service wouldn't bring it in our long driveway. Our pool maintenance guys happened to be there and kindly drove their pick-up out the driveway, loaded the piece, stood on the back with it right to the door, then carried it inside and helped me unwrap it. Sometimes you just can't beat southern! 

The fifty cent piece has a new home, in our kitchen. It holds cookbooks and changes its decor seasonally. It is a daily reminder of our roots, and of Larry's parents. Its sentimental value is priceless. 

As the auction continued, all twenty of us went through the main part of the house, on to the basement, through the garage, and finally, right down to the muskrat traps in Dad's shop. Everyone was bone weary, but relieved that the task had been completed. There are enough stories from that day to fill many pages. Each sibling brings their own perspective and memories; a life time of living condensed down to an estate auction. I know what memory I will cherish the most. I will always remember ten children working together unselfishly, dividing their parents' earthly goods in such an honoring way. It was remarkable! I am proud to be a part of this clan.