"The Estate Sale" or "Lessons In Etiquette"

[Kyle Boyd-Robertson]

There she was, that grand victorian house that had stood guard over the old town district for so very long. Paint faded and peeling as one who has outlived her time, but she must have been a sight to behold in her glory days. The sign out front, Estate Sale, was viewed with mixed emotions from those who gathered around it talking in the early morning light. Some talked of a life well lived, some reminisced of distant memories and simpler times, while others speculated on what treasures must lie within.

The morning air, damp and cold, sent shivers down the spines of us early birds as we stood in line with coffee and calculators in hand waiting somewhat impatiently for the heavy oak doors with bevelled glass to swing open and welcome us in . (We, seasoned estate sale buyers, know all to well the importance of arriving early so to quickly lay claim the most coveted items). Albeit thirty minutes late the doors did finally open, not to usher the crowd in, rather through the threshold appeared an elderly woman. She shuffled across the porch, cane in one hand the other clinging to a smartly dressed young man, tears streaming down her weathered face as she settled onto the old porch swing. As we watched these events unfold many of us began to realize this sale would prove to be far different than we could have ever expected and for those of us who stayed the items we would leave with that day would not only be treasures of material value but also treasures from the heart.

It was a strange request, a tour of the house before rushing in to seek our fortunes?, but none were willing to go against the wishes of of the frail but proud aged woman, who now stood before us with her young companion close by her side. She went on to explain, now ninety-eight years old, she had lived in this majestic home since the day of her birth in the year of 1898. The house, originally built by her grandfather in 1834, has seen much in her days. In the year she was built the settlement around her was nearly obliterated by a cholera epidemic, which also claimed the life of the one who constructed her along with two of his sons, (their portraits were displayed on the foyer wall as we entered). She took in wounded villagers and soldiers and in 1836 saw a new Republic form. In 1861 she watched as most of the young men in town left for war yet again, and again she opened her doors to soldiers from both the south and the north alike, (evidenced by the many civil war relics displayed in the main room). She stood strong through the great storm of 1886 and once again came to the aid of the citizens of her township. In 1902 hardship came to visit in the form of a tornado killing hundreds and wounding twice as many and without a thought her dining, formal and family room were quickly filled with the wounded and homeless. As we entered the kitchen our matriarchal tour guide amusingly shared how during the great depression they were considered to be wealthy because they owned a cow and people from all around flocked to the house to obtain milk from the only source within a hundred mile radius. Through the next fifty years this stately old house saw cotton gins, a gristmill, poultry packing plant, broom factory and may other businesses come and go. She proudly watched as the young men and women of her community left for six more wars and agonized over the ones that never returned.

Nearing the end of our tour, with the help of her young companion, the elding woman turned and slowly rested upon the dark mahogany rocking chair built by her father. After catching her breath she introduced us to the young lad who accompanied her, he was her great-grandchild and only living heir. She told us, like the old house, she felt as if she had outlived her usefullness. She went on to explain that soon she and the "grand old home" would be reaching the end of their journeys, in just a few short months she would retire to the nursing home and the house that had welcomed so many and gave so much of herself was slated to be demolished for an expansion of the highway. Before she lay down her life one last time for the betterment of her community the proud old house had one more gift she wished to give, the first college education in her families long history to the smartly dressed young companion and last of the family line and thus the estate sale.

Since that day I have attended many more estate sales, but never alone. In the back of my mind I am always accompanied by an elderly lady nearing the end of her life's journey and her great grandson just beginning his. They continue to this very day to teach and guide me in the etiquette of estate sales. They have helped me bridal my enthusiasm and enter each sale with sensitivity, knowing it is very likely some of the people helping with the sale may very well be a loved one of the deceased. They have helped me remember that the treasures I am seeking are all a part of another persons life and letting go of a loved one's possessions can be a very emotional task. As they guide me through each sale they teach me the importance of being respectful and not making disparaging remarks about any of the items, no mater what I might think. Most of all they have helped me see all the items for what they are, a part of a larger history and a story to be told.

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[Bernie]

I found this a brilliant piece, so considered and well written. And yes, moving. What a sense of occasion that old lady must have had for all its poignancy, to be able to carry through the tour and talk despite the tears and her advanced years. I hope that others who read your story carry away with them a little of what you carried away that day.

[Ruth Cooper]

I agree with Frank - this is most worthy of publication - there is a magazine called "The Good Old Days" they have an online site. We are going to walk in her shoes someday ... thank you for your thoughtfulness.

[Rita Holcomb]

Wonderfully stated! There is Nothing to add.

[Frank DeFreitas]

Great story and yet, even better message. I must say, however, that it seemed too good for reading on a computer screen. How nice it would have been to sit back, perhaps in a park or, better yet on a front porch, and read it on paper. Not all will agree, and I understand that. Thanks for posting it. You should submit it to a publication.