...and it's usually the ones labeled"Estate Sale."
On the way to Cracker Barrel to have lunch yesterday after church, we passed an estate sale sign, which naturally tweaked my interest. After lunch, after we had taken Lori back to her car, Vann turned in a direction that wasn't toward our home. I had already forgotten about the sale, but my sweet husband, knowing how I love a good rummage sale, drove us directly to the estate sale.
The house was not unfamiliar to me. It's a very old house, sitting on a triangle-shaped lot all by its self, surrounded by ancient shrubbery and trees that have been there at least since my childhood. Though we were more acquaintances than friends, the children who grew up there were students in the Leeds school system when I was. The father was a local merchant, and the mother a local music or dance teacher (I forget now which).
I was excited about the sale. That house, that landmark house, although long in the tooth and much in disrepair now, must hold all kinds of treasures, I thought. And it did, I'm sure. But once I entered and spoke to Mrs. W., the lady of that house, I sort of lost my interest in treasure hunting.
Mrs. W was sitting in the front room, walking cane propped against her chair, romance novel in her hands, greeting her customers. Her daughters and friends were taking care of the transactions. I spoke to her, asked how she was doing, and said what a wonderful lot of things she had for sale. She smiled a little weakly and told me that her family had had to pry each piece out of her hands while she kicked and screamed in protest. I'm sure she exaggerated a little, but I could tell that she was having a hard time saying goodbye to the bits and piece of her past. "These things are my life," she said. I smiled but felt like crying.
I wanted to leave then and not be one of the visitors who was pawing through this lady's life. But I felt that would be rude, and I was still somewhat intrigued. I had never been inside that house although I think my sister has (one of the daughters was her age and her friend in school), and I was curious. So I toured the rooms, looking more at the house itself than searching for treasures.
The wallpaper, what was left of it, was circa 1950-something. The floors were ripply bare boards, the walls all stained. One could tell that the ghosts were having a hard time keeping out of sight until nighttime. There was a dark emptiness about the place now, an emptiness sprinkled with the dust of decades past. These rooms where a family once took meals and watched Uncle Miltie, where children played and teenagers listened to 45 rpms and laughed, had been reduced to dark and dusty piles of stuff for sale.
I found a lovely quilt top (see photo at top), a book of beautiful Victorian postcards, and some little coasters, paid M. for them, and went home. I didn't ask, but I'm sure that sale was a preamble to Mrs. W. moving in with one of her daughters or into a retirement home. I pray that she can come to grips with her losses and learn to be happy wherever she ends up. I pray we all can do that someday.
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On 07/07/2008, Beverly said ...
Now, that just made me cry. Getting older can be so sad. I pray that she finds joy in what comes next.
On 07/07/2008, Karla said ...
So sad. I feel the same way at estate sales but I look at it as keeping their legacy alive as I know I will take good care of their treasures.
Karla
On 07/07/2008, Jeanne said ...
That story is thought provoking for sure. We all wonder as we get older, what the future holds for us. I have already told my children, to move us to assisted living or the nursing home. My husband feels the same. I don't want to burden them.. I hope I have the time and the will to eliminate the things my children do not want before it is a problem. That poor lady, and her children, to have to sell her things is sad to say the least.
The bright side is you have a treasure and will love and take care of it.
Jeanne
On 07/07/2008, Joan said ...
That was sad. In old buildings I always think of all the families that sat around for meals and family tomes over the years. In fact yesterday I went into a very large house in London and my imagination went into overdrive. Thank you for his post.
On 07/07/2008, Kai said ...
It was my intention to comment on each of your recent entries (I've READ them all - just not had a chance to comment) but after reading this, your latest, I feel so sad. This hits VERY close to home because a neighbor and LONGTIME friend was forced from her familiar home by a daughter who actually had less than honorable reasons for putting her mom in a nursing facility. Ms. Amy - my friend - was doing quite well in her own place. The move was the beginning of her demise. I want to run to that house where the estate sale happened and steal away that lady; take CARE of her myself. But I can't, of course, & so I feel very sad.
On 07/07/2008, Deb said ...
Susan ~ I can definitely see the sadness in the situation. I have told my mom that she will never have to go to a nursing home if I can help it! I think families are for taking care of their own (unless it's such an overwhelming medical situation that it's impossible). I hope my children feel the same. Looks like the quilt top was a great treasure to bring home to remind you this dear lady and what's ahead for her. Thank you for sharing.
On 07/07/2008, Lacy said ...
Your story reminded me of an old friend - Carol. Carol's mother would place a piece of masking tape on the bottom of certain sentimental items, such as furniture, figurines, etc. And on that piece of tape she would write the name of the child that had mentioned an interest in it. I thought, what a nice way of making sure each child had something they really liked. As for me I've made sure to do a complete house cleaning each year to rid my cabinets and cupboards of useless items. That way if anything should happen suddenly, my one and only child will have less of a burden in taking care of my things in the end. And lets face it none of us will get out alive. Amen! Sorry this is so long, but I do love reading your blog.
On 07/08/2008, red tin heart said ...
I could not make my my Mom sell her stuff. I would not be able to handle it. It is like she said," This stuff is my life."
Each piece represents a memory..
When they are gone from this earth it is different..But when they are alive?
I don't know...
xoxo Nita
On 07/08/2008, angelines said ...
Hello Susan, in Spain there is an expresion when people speak very well it is what pico, traslate pico is like you write very well in your blog.
I love the fat quarter you bought. Each thing I've got, has some history, when something damage I feel sad to lost. Sorry for my bad Enghish. Regards from Spain
On 07/08/2008, Nicole said ...
You express yourself so eloquently Susan. My heart aches thinking of my father in that same situation. As long as we can take care of him, it just won't happen. He is fiercly hanging on to his independence and I believe that our respect for that and the fact that he is included in everything our family does and decides is what keeps him going year after year.
On 07/08/2008, Gayle said ...
Such a beautiful post...absolutely beautiful. I look forward to catching up on other posts. I missed reading your blog in the morning.
On 07/10/2008, PHyl said ...
My heart goes out to this elderly lady;it seems the children could have let her keep items special to her, even if stored. And not make her have to watch little pieces of her life be sold to strangers!Thank you for giving some of her treasures a good home!
On 07/14/2008, Daisy Cottage said ...
((((Susan))))
You have such a loving and compassionate heart. Thank you for sharing about this precious lady.
I have felt that way before too at estate sales...and when I bring home the owner's treasures I try to always remember where I got them and picture their home in my mind and heart. When I know the name of the owner, I refer to their things by name - like, "this buffet belonged to Kate... or those are Tilley's gloves". It helps me to honor them.
xo,
Kim
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