there was a little brown haired, green eyed girl who loved to collect pretty stones that told of ancient times, tiny seashells holding whispers from the ocean, and twinkling glass animals which came alive at night to dance in moonbeams.
When she brought them home, cupped in her hands like something sacred, her mother would ask with a smile, "What now?". And the little girl would show her, and tell how the treasure was found.
At that time was a man of considerable size in the neighborhood called Rag Man, and although many of the children feared him, the little girl did not. He drove a behemoth truck that brought to mind a towering tree, and it was colored as such with a rusty brown cab and a pine green bed. "Any old RAGS, any old RAAAAGS?", he would holler out the open window of his old gnarled tree-truck.
Upon hearing his cries, the women of the neighborhood would hurry out of their houses, holding some thing they no longer wanted, that had been saved to give to Rag Man. He would take it from them with a delicate grasp, or perhaps heave it with many moans and groans into to back of his truck , then bow his head in thanks.
After the years passed, there finally came the day of Rag Man's final ride. The little girl was surprised to hear him speak to her as the only words ever heard before that day were "any old RAAAAGS?".
And what did he say, as he pushed back his cap, revealing two tiny ears with strange points on the tips that looked curiously like a faerie's ears? Well, that is a story for another time,but I can tell you now that a life changing thought was born in that moment. A thought of old things unwanted and how sad it would be if there was no one to rescue them so they could once again have value and be loved.