Yesterday was the first full day of summer vacation for my grandson who proudly and firmly announced that he is now “officially” in first grade. I had the pleasure of spending this momentous “one and only” day with this boy. We both launched in with the intention of taking everything it had to offer. To begin I took the boy to his first estate sale. A few days ago I put hard thought into whether or not I wanted to bring a child into the fray. Would he become frightened in a crowd of sometimes over zealous treasure hunters? Would he follow instructions, break something or get hurt himself? Setting my own desires aside, because there was a lot of vinyl (my passion for another posting), I didn’t want this not yet seven year old to have a negative experience in any way.
I am getting to be pretty estate sale savvy. I bring a specific bag, now dubbed the “$30 bag” because that is usually how much I pay to fill it. I wear proper foot wear. I make sure I am hands free, have readers at easy access and plenty of cash. Another thing I have learned is to dress for the heat of tight spaces and many bodies. A trip up three flights of steep old stairs to an attic oven must be taken with an abundance of caution and care.
Faces are becoming familiar (and younger!) and smiles more frequent as I navigate this increasingly popular and fashionable form of stuff reduction. I consider it my contribution to keeping things out of the landfills. I also consciously look with honor and respect at the sum of someone else’s life and passion and feel it is my calling to carry things forward in to a new purpose in life. It just feels right.
This day’s sale of choice was, to repeat this brilliant child’s new favorite response to everything and to the photos I showed him on my phone estate sale app, EPIC!! In listening to the basement chatter later we learned that there were 8,000 (yes 3 zeros) small vehicles of the Matchbox/Hot Wheels variety as well as other less known (to me) brands. A true life time achievement for a gentleman who apparently had spent his adult life as a plumber but who never lost his love of the toy car.
I suppose I had made the decision to attend prior to showing my grandson the photos. His response to the “Do ya wanna?” was epic in its own right. Decision made I outfitted the lad with a small lightweight close fitted back pack so he too would have hands free to navigate doors, stairs, and tall persons. He easily agreed to keep the number of vehicles to 10. This was highly risky on my part as I had zero idea how much this particular 10 were going to cost me.
Neither of us were prepared for the reality. They were everywhere; on shelves, in cabinets, pinned to the walls, tucked behind railings, single in original packaging (IOP) multiple IOP, single parked everywhere.
Magical. Delightful. A child’s dream.
We were part of an early crowd so most of the 8,000 were still present. A little sign priced them: $1 for opened, $3 for IOP, $5 for multi-IOP.
Being a female of a certain age I was not given toy cars and trucks to play with. It wasn’t proper. It wasn’t right.
I had dolls. Of course. Yet I coveted my three older brothers’ cars. Truth be told I also wanted their marbles and jackknives. Mumblety-peg anyone? Then when I had two girls of my own I foolishly continued the unenlightened and expected path of ruffles and dolls. It wasn’t until I had a grandson that I allowed myself to “have” cars.
By the time the second grandson arrived I had a decent coffee can collection, some pinched, I mean inherited (!) from my brothers, and the race tracks to go with them. So this seven year old had benefitted from my “need for speed” although my need also includes style, form and substance. I have grown to accept that my cars seldom win; but boy oh boy do they lose beautifully.
While driving home I explained that we needed to “check” his purchases on Goggle to see if any may be worth significantly more money than we paid for them. His “Why?” was a bit gentler than his mother’s had been when I told her someone wanted to buy her precious beanie baby for way more than we had paid for it.
Sure enough the first $3 car we checked was selling for $30 on Ebay. I suggested he might want to leave that one IOP and play with the other 9 and he reluctantly agreed. After a bubbly soak of the new old cars, and our selves, at the “car wash” we settled in to lunch and video games to wait for the sun to dry our wheels before the races could commence.
Very suddenly there was much excitement! The first front baby tooth lost its battle to a chicken nugget and this little boy announced that he is kinda like an adult now. There was no blood, no tears, just an anxious need to save it to show mom and dad…..and the tooth fairy. Soft cooked noodles replaced the remaining nuggets and this new status carried on. Rightfully so.
Mid way through this stellar day I received news of SCOTUS recent edict. Basically, if I understand it correctly District judges can no longer declare nationally. Truthfully I have always found it difficult to understand why they ever could; hence the word ‘district.’
The nuances and impacts of this decision are yet to be seen. Frankly the so very un-right wrong things that continue to occur daily under this nation’s gangster administration make me want to return to the innocence of baby teeth, bubbles and water hose. I want the tooth fairy to be real.
swansroost 