Where did you get your love of antiquing? From Mom? I guess I could run this post on Father's Day and ask the same questions, but the staff's ode to mothers on the Antique Trader Blog made me want to thank my own.
But first I have to curse her. Why? In the town where I grew up there was a shop called Althea's Antiques that for years I begged to go into. It sat back from the road, shabby and rambling, and I just KNEW it was full of treasures. But Mom wasn't into old stuff. It depressed her. So for years, despite my pleas, she just drove right by.
One day Mom stopped by a collectables show and bought a stack of Saturday Evening Posts with Currier and Ives illustrations. Soon after she started collecting trade cards, and then she got into buying at estate sales and selling at antiques expos and, later, eBay. She evolved into a collector and dealers of childhood nostalgia: toys, dolls, Christmas and Halloween decorations. Of course, as soon as she decided Althea Antiques might be worth checking out, it closed. Later we heard it was a top buying destination for area dealers. Moan.
I should have lost my love of old things at that point, because the rest of my childhood was spent being dragged to estate sales. These were the rules: first dealer at the sale address started a pre-list, and everyone who arrived later had to sign in. No one was allowed to leave until the official list was hung by the sales operator the next day. If you got there at 4:00 the afternoon before, tough, you were stuck. I remember sleeping in the back of Mom's van, the pre-list on our windshield, and all night long dealers with flashlights waking me up while they went car to car searching for it. The dealers were ruthless against their own, and if someone snuck away for coffee or even a bathroom break, they were struck from the sign-up list.
When the official list came out the next day, there was usually lots of arguing with confused neighbors, who hadn't realize that the vultures had descended the night before and were getting into the sale before them, friendships with the deceased be damned. Anxiety surrounding whether the sales operator was going to "honor the pre-list" was epic. And Mom's place on said list ruled her moods. If she was number one, happy days. If she was further back than 10th, the sky was falling.
Before she went back to teaching, Mom spent some time pricing collectibles for the Good Will: I found her the job in the classifieds and she ran to apply. Do employees at the Good Will make off with some great finds? Ha. And double ha. (I only share this period because I think the statute of limitations has run out by now.)
Mom and I have had the privilege of being able to travel all over Europe (I swap my apartment with a friend in Paris) and most of our agenda is filled with shopping for antiques. Here's my mom in Chartres, holding up some little donkey toy that she found in a junk shop and claimed she would sell to finance her travels. That's what she said anyways. I think she was just in it for the love of the hunt.
Antiquing with my mother has brought me years of pleasure. Thanks, Ma!
My daughter promised to correct the blog. It was old, old Harper's Illustrated with the iconic Santa by Thomas Nast who started the antique lust. Sheesh! Didn't I teach her anything?!
Posted by: bill roberts | Monday, May 12, 2008 at 12:19 PM
I have known this Mom since her days as a homecoming princess. It's all true.
Posted by: sondra churchill | Wednesday, December 17, 2008 at 06:45 PM