Lunentucker
Well-Known Member
A young friend contacted me last night from Colorado, deeply upset.
She'd just received word that her family was holding an estate sale of her grandparents' belongings at the old farm house back here in VA.
She'd spent much of her youth on that farm, spending meaningful time with her grandparents as they went about the daily routines of running a small tobacco farm.
These were lower middle class people, so the estate sale wasn't likely to yield any Antiques Roadshow types of treasures, but there were things there that could be priceless to my friend.
We share similar background stories in that regard.
Her family had made no prior mention of the sale, and she had no means of getting there in time to claim some memorable keepsakes of their lives.
My friend lives a nomadic life out west, spending most of her time camping in her tiny airstream or staying with friends, so she doesn't have a lot of space for luxury items that don't serve the daily needs.
So I decided to go and to see what I could find that might fit the requirements of being deeply personal, yet fairly lightweight and compact.
I didn't really need the Jeep for its Jeepiness, but it's always a pleasure to drive, so off we went.
I spent about $70 total, and just picked out items that I thought have personal ties and meanings to her.
She was extremely pleased with my choices and excited that some scraps of days gone by were rescued for her.
I'll hold them until she's home again, whenever that may be.
The quilt is handmade by her grandmother. The cheap watches and jewelry were hers as well.
Her "Papa" was a WW2 POW, so I knew that the flag hanging in one of the outbuildings, and the patriotic tie pins meant a lot to him, and thus to her. He made the walking sticks from vine-spiraled saplings and gave them to friends. This one was in the house, so maybe he used this one himself before he had to go to assisted living. I believe he was 99 when the batteries ran out.
I've listened to recorded conversation with him that she did some years ago. Those POW days were beyond hard, and maybe it made him stronger than most of us.
This was my first estate sale. It will also be my last, unless some similar circumstances arise in the future.
It's not my thing, and I felt more like a grave robber than someone who was doing anything beneficial.
I think I'll modify my own will to say, "Take what you want, and throw the rest in a pile and burn it."
It feels wrong to walk through some else's home and buy their stuff for pennies on the dollar.
She'd just received word that her family was holding an estate sale of her grandparents' belongings at the old farm house back here in VA.
She'd spent much of her youth on that farm, spending meaningful time with her grandparents as they went about the daily routines of running a small tobacco farm.
These were lower middle class people, so the estate sale wasn't likely to yield any Antiques Roadshow types of treasures, but there were things there that could be priceless to my friend.
We share similar background stories in that regard.
Her family had made no prior mention of the sale, and she had no means of getting there in time to claim some memorable keepsakes of their lives.
My friend lives a nomadic life out west, spending most of her time camping in her tiny airstream or staying with friends, so she doesn't have a lot of space for luxury items that don't serve the daily needs.
So I decided to go and to see what I could find that might fit the requirements of being deeply personal, yet fairly lightweight and compact.
I didn't really need the Jeep for its Jeepiness, but it's always a pleasure to drive, so off we went.
I spent about $70 total, and just picked out items that I thought have personal ties and meanings to her.
She was extremely pleased with my choices and excited that some scraps of days gone by were rescued for her.
I'll hold them until she's home again, whenever that may be.
The quilt is handmade by her grandmother. The cheap watches and jewelry were hers as well.
Her "Papa" was a WW2 POW, so I knew that the flag hanging in one of the outbuildings, and the patriotic tie pins meant a lot to him, and thus to her. He made the walking sticks from vine-spiraled saplings and gave them to friends. This one was in the house, so maybe he used this one himself before he had to go to assisted living. I believe he was 99 when the batteries ran out.
I've listened to recorded conversation with him that she did some years ago. Those POW days were beyond hard, and maybe it made him stronger than most of us.
This was my first estate sale. It will also be my last, unless some similar circumstances arise in the future.
It's not my thing, and I felt more like a grave robber than someone who was doing anything beneficial.
I think I'll modify my own will to say, "Take what you want, and throw the rest in a pile and burn it."
It feels wrong to walk through some else's home and buy their stuff for pennies on the dollar.
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