2000-12-12 - 04:46 MST

December 12, 2000

Devil Made Me Do It

There is an almost unholy attraction to me, to see a sign on a telephone pole saying: "Garage Sale." There is no way that my iron horse will do anything else but proceed to that address.

If Heather and I are together, it is a dead cinch that we will stop and look around. Although we sold our house and moved into an apartment several years ago and have more than we really need and to be honest, more than we can use !

We stop, each heading to a different part of the sale. I check the used books for something I think could be of use, paper backs are real cheap at garage sales, hard backs can be a tad more expensive. Still for a few bucks a sizeable stack of tomes tumble around in the back seat of the car. I wonder if there will be a tomestone at my grave ? Next, hand tools are checked out. I have most of what is needed really, still occasionally something will turn up that is needed.

Then I will look at things like bookcases, occasional tables, cabinets looking for something to replace what we have that would be more convenient or hold more useless junk until we decide we must give it up. If a piece of furniture is bought, a piece we have at the apartment has to be disposed of. Thankfully the number of pieces does not increase just the vertical dimension, and maybe how far it will stick out into the room.

Heather looks for kids toys, she carries the inventory of all the grandkids toys and knows their likes to a tee. She checks out kids clothing for nearly new, nice items of the appopriate size. Chinaware is on her mind too and kitchen utensils -- that stuff is more or less the same as furniture. Take something home and then something from home to Goodwill.

I desperately hate to shop in a store, always have, always will. But at a garage sale the items out there were something that the householder once valued and maybe is for sale because something newer has been purchased to replace it, some once prized possession is on the block because the lady of the house persuaded the old man to sell it. The reverse doesn't usually work out though, it is her house and for the most part her furniture and all the gear that goes with it. If any of her stuff is out for sale, she decided to sell it -- period.

There is a fascination in leafing through some of the books that turn up in a sale, I think that I have seen everything in the way of books for sale out on someone's lawn except porno. The house of a doctor often will usually have outdated medical books that are interesting to me, lawyers usually seem to have books out there on legal matters, other places more or less show the profession or favorite hobby by the books of the man of the house. I look at a row of books and get lost in thought forming an opinion about the persons living there.

Sometimes it is obvious that some of the stuff is formerly owned by progeny who have left home and is no longer wanted by the empty nesters. I mentally place the furniture for sale in the house I can see and ponder about the kind of life they live, form opinions in my mind by talking with the people of the house and maybe build a short, short story around them in my mind fitting what they have out for sale and the kind of people I think they are.

Going into a neighborhood that has been traveled through often enough to be familiar holds a fascination to me, going into the yard of someone I don't know and seeing parts and pieces of their lives laid out for the passers by to finger, heft and peer at. One thing I have noticed is the good nature and automatic courtesy of the people selling stuff at a garage sale, it is amazing. Some people will haggle some will politely refuse to do so.

Also it is intriguing to see all the different things that are nice, pretty and useful that the folk living there have decided to sell. Often the sight of the inside of the garage shows that it is full to the brim, not counting the items for sale. I sort of get the idea that the rooms and closets are in the same shape also.

If I get tired, the car is close and I can go rest for a while and then go back at it if there a possibility there are items not yet looked over. Or, Heather will come to the car with her ill-gotten goods and indicate she is ready to go on to the next one.

It is an enjoyable form of friendly, casual neighboring with others even though they live clear across town. It always gives me a boost in my mood to be around people who are not antagonistic, pushy, or who are unwilling to listen to someone politely. Once in a while during a lull in the transactions, I will fall into conversation with one of the sellers chatting about generalities and sometimes learning the history of some of the pieces for sale. Surprising the things that are learned from a short talk with a congenial person.

Then returning home, carrying the purchased things inside and looking at them with a jaundiced eye, I shake my head and think, "The Devil Made Me Do It . . . . . .

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