As I begin this report, I am staring at the bare walls of the house I once called a home. After the past five years, after all the last stages of my parents’ lives, all the nurses and doctors, the health care issues, the crash course in gerontology, the insurance paperwork, the bills and house maintenance issues, the bank accounts, the estate matters, the lawyers and accountants, after finding the right guy to do the estate sale and arranging to have furniture shipped to four remote locations …. after all this, I’m now staring at an empty house. Last Friday and Saturday I attended the estate sale at my parents’ house. I think the estate guy was a little nervous that I’d be one of those family members who could not bear to part with any of the memories, and I suppose a lot of people are like that. But by the time the estate sale took place I had done my grieving, and I was prepared to let go of what was left. I had already picked out some my favorite furniture and mementoes, and so had my sister and her family. As well we gave some stuff to people who had been good to our parents, so much of what was left was not particularly meaningful to either of us.
That said, it is weird to watch people, dealers or bargain hunters, rummaging through anything and everything that is not nailed down in what was once your family home. I wandered around, trying to be as inconspicuous as possible, watching and listening to what people had to say. At one point I put my digital camera down on a table for an instant and some woman grabbed it like it the last new IPhone on the shelf at the Apple store. I politely asked her to give it back, perhaps followed by an expletive deleted. I have never before attended an estate sale, but I can safely say that I have not seen that many people in this big old house since my mom used to host the annual International Horse Show party thirty or forty years ago. Hundreds walked through the house, and some just wanted to see what the house looked like, but others were clearly looking for buried treasure. One guy was walking around with a little flash light peering into every nook and cranny. By day two, the big stuff was gone and it was time for the real bargain hunters to start rummaging. The strangest people came through. One guy, dressed a little like what Elvis would look like if he were an appliance repairman, headed straight for the basement and snagged the 50 year old Frigidaire. Somebody else bought the 32 year-old 2-head VCR. I failed to mention to the new owner that it could only recognize recording dates up to and including 1999. Ten bucks. Caveat emptor. By the end of the second day, I found myself searching for a lamp by which to read in the den, because every light in the room had been sold and there was no overhead light. In short, the whole two day adventure was “enlightening,” and I enjoyed seeing who bought what. As I finish this report, I’ve returned home to Jasper Bark Lodge in the Great White North, and I‘m pretty beat. I’ll say this, I think the people who ran the sale did a good job.
Final note, a propos to nothing … forget about paper money, there’s a new currency in town. Watching the news the other night, I learned that criminals are stealing Liquid Tide detergent from supermarkets to sell on the black market, sometimes for drugs. Now I’ve heard everything. Regrettably, I’ve got a full bottle of Era which nobody chose to buy at the estate sale. Era’s good too you know.
Written by Jamie Oppenheimer c2012 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
No comments:
Post a Comment