WARNING: SLOW BLOGGING AHEAD – Day 8: The ‘rents in residence

Well, so far no blood bath, no axes ground, haven’t made CNN or even the cheesy local news with any family disputes.  Jerry Springer material we aren’t this week.

We have done a few things a normal family might not be doing on a Saturday in November, though.  Some activities were kinda’ normal; hubby batted clean up today on the painting project, touching up a few spots with an extra coat of paint and removing all the tape and drop cloths.  He and Dad looked at our future building site; Dad spent some time looking over some plans for us, trying to come up with some modifications that will fit the lot and our needs.  Pretty normal and sedate fare.

Mom and I went to an auction, standing in the cold for a couple of hours.  Not quite so normal.  Folks do this, true, but most would not hang about as long as we did, and only few take the same pleasure in it.  This Saturday there were only 67 people given bid numbers.  Many of the bidders were men dressed in camouflage – got to wonder if they were taking a break from hunting, if they’d already bagged their deer, or if they’d felt the call of the auction more keenly than the call of the wild.  Perhaps this is just one of those not-quite-Great-White-North phenomena, like markings of different colors on animals: the not-quite-North species’ males deck out in camo during public outings in November.  I tend to stay clear of these types…

One always wonders why people have auctions; sometimes the reason is clear, stated on the auction flier (“Having sold our home and moving to another state, we are selling our household contents…”).  Frequently, the reason is missing, no explanation given.  This auction was the contents of an entire home, from dishes to woodworking equipment.  Some things were missing, like linens, suggesting either the owners have moved into another home needing much less of the detritus one acquires in life.  The house appeared empty, except for some people sitting in folding chairs in the living room, watching the auction proceedings.  There was a school-aged girl (granddaughter/daughter?), a young man (father/son?), an older man (father/grandfather?).  No women with them.  Was the older man a widower?  It might explain why the china and crystal were sold…but it doesn’t explain the sale of the contents of his entire woodworking shop.  Was this painful for him, watching much of his life, spread across the lawn and garage and scrutinized piece by piece, then distributed to the highest bidder?  An enigma, no answers. 

After all the waiting in the cold damp air, punctuated with flurries of bidding, I’d spent a whopping 20 bucks on a dehydrator (new, in the box!), a stone polisher (Mom’s buy for a blossoming new hobby), an antique beveled mirror (couldn’t let this go for only a buck!), an aluminum roaster (biggun’, should work for a 15 pound turkey), and an aebelskiver pan (Looks new, saved more than $15, came with recipes too!).  Mom tried to buy a couple of antique books, but they quickly went over her limit.  Kind of a shame – one of them was a copy of ‘Song of Hiawatha’, circa 1898, would have been a nice acquisition.

I’ll always wonder about the items that got away; will they be treasured lovingly, or will they be resold, purchased only by a dealer as new inventory?  And I’ll wonder about the previous owners of the items that were won.  While I’m cleaning the roaster I bought today I’ll wonder how many women have also polished and scrubbed it, how many Thanksgiving turkeys emerged from it, how many family members ate from it.  And where are they all now?  Were they at the auction today?  Were they watching or bidding?

Too bad the mission which spawned today’s wait was fruitless; we’ve been looking for a bed and dresser for my kid brother.  Oh well, it continues to be an interesting mission – it’ll be our excuse to continue hunting for the rest of the ‘rents residency here at my digs.

Next stop: resale and consignment shops.  Any feedback on where to find the best previously-owned furniture?

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