As
I write this, I’m waiting for an auctioneer to drop by to evaluate the many
boxes and plastic tubs of “stuff” in my basement and let me know what’s worth selling and what
should be heaved into the back of a pickup truck speeding in the direction of the nearest landfill.
Naturally, I’m praying he will unearth some long-forgotten item that will turn out to be a rare collectible worth thousands, maybe even millions, of dollars.
I know, I know, I’m a dreamer, but I blame it on that TV program, Antiques Roadshow. You know the one…where a bunch of posh-looking experts in expensive black suits appraise items brought in by people who have just cleaned out their attics and basements and are wondering if Aunt Alma's silver brooch might be worth a buck or two.
Oddly enough, the items that look the worst – items that even the rats at the town dump would reject – usually are the ones that are worth the most money.
For example, a typical discussion on the Antiques Roadshow might go something like this:
EXPERT: “And what have you brought in for us to appraise today, Mr. Lynch?”
MR. LYNCH: “Well, I found this here old horse bridle in my great-great grandpa’s shed, so I thought I’d check it out.”
EXPERT: (Pulls out a magnifying glass from his pocket and carefully examines the item) “Hmmm, very interesting. The markings on the leather clearly indicate this was the bridle used on Paul Revere’s horse, Brown Beauty, during his infamous midnight ride in 1775.”
MR. LYNCH: (Completely expressionless) “So, is it worth anything?”
EXPERT: “Well, if this bridle were to come up for auction, I expect it easily could sell for as much as $250,000. Are you looking to sell it?”
MR. LYNCH: (Still expressionless) “Nah. I think I’ll just keep it…for sentimental reasons.”
Let me tell you, if someone ever gave me news like that, I would pick up the appraiser, spin him around and then do cartwheels across the floor. And to heck with the sentimental value. I would unload the item on the first person who showed me a checkbook or a wad of cash.
Which leads me back to the auctioneer who is coming over here today. The last time I dealt with an auctioneer was back in 2006, after my mother passed away and left me her house and everything in it. Back then, I’d been certain that even her ugly ceramic table-lamp with the painting of a powdered-wigged man in knee-length breeches and long white stockings on the front was worth a fortune. Every time I looked at him, I pictured dollar signs all over his pale, pinched face.
And the statue of the reclining frog with a lily pad covering its privates, well, I was positive it just had to be a piece of rare folk art. Even the free set of dinnerware from Grand Union supermarket my mother had collected piece by piece every week for over a year, surely had to be valuable. I mean, the last time I’d seen a Grand Union anywhere, men still were wearing polyester leisure-suits.
So by the time Art, the auctioneer, showed up at my mother’s, I’d fully convinced myself he was going to finance my future vacation in Hawaii.
He started out in the garage. In the corner, in all its glory, sat an old-fashioned, 1920s green-enamel woodstove, the kind with a big oven in it that also was used for cooking. Surely, I thought, he would gasp with delight when he spotted it.
He barely gave it a glance. Instead, he rushed over to my dad’s old workbench and picked up what looked like something that should have been buried years before.
“Wow!” he gasped. “An old electrical meter! That is really cool!”
I just stared at him. “But what about this old woodstove! I’ll bet it’s worth a fortune!”
He shook his head. “Not really. They were popular a few years ago, but they’re not now. Nobody seems to want them anymore. They take up too much space and weigh a ton.”
Still not discouraged, I led him into my mother’s house and pointed out her porcelain and fine-china teacup collection. One of the cups even was a souvenir from Queen Elizabeth’s coronation.
“Isn’t this a great collection?” I practically gushed.
Again, he shook his head. “Those aren’t very popular any more, either. And neither are most collectible plates, like from the Franklin Mint.”
Looking past me, he rushed over to the bookshelf, where he picked up some worn-looking old books my parents used to read to me when I was a kid. Most of the covers were hanging on by mere threads. I was afraid if he even so much as coughed on them, he would reduce them to a pile of dust.
“Now these are worth something!” he said.
I honestly thought he was joking.
He also liked the stack of linens in the linen closet, but barely glanced at the pair of Murano Italian glass swans. And the portable bar in the living room didn’t impress him even half as much as one of the big, crooked-looking wine bottles that was standing on it.
So now I think I more clearly understand how this “keep or toss” idea works. I won’t show my vintage Rogers flatware in its original velvet-lined case or my 1977 Princess Leia doll to the auctioneer who’s on his way over here today.
However, I’ll make sure he sees my broken avocado-colored wall phone with the rotary dial, and my rusty old manual lawnmower with the dented blades.
# # #
AUCTION - OCT. 18, CONCORD, NH
My items start on row 49 of the photos and go all the way down through row 54. I know they are only "stuff," but it really makes me sad to see them go. My late husband and I collected many of them together over the years and had a lot of fun in the process. But without him, they are just "things" now. So I'm trying to be brave and allow other people to enjoy them! Hopefully, they also might brighten someone's Christmas this year...
I think my husband would like that.
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