Junkers aren't born. They're made. And not instantaneously, either. It takes a lifetime. I see so many people come and go from vendor malls because they didn't have it in them to stick it out. I've seen some people online fretting because right now every auction, yard sale, and barn seems to be overrun with wanna-be American Pickers and their little flashlights.
These idiots are getting in the way of people who actually know what they're doing, driving up prices and acting like asses because they've watched a few episodes of a TV show. Worse yet, they're copying and trying to ride the coattails of the more experienced junkers around them.
In the end, though, I think they're going to be a momentary frustration. Once these insta-junkers see how much real work there is for how much little actual return, they're gonna jump ship. They don't have it in them. They never gave a thought to second-hand goods before they started trying to be junkers, and that is the crux of their problem. You become a junker over a lifetime, not by watching TV shows.
I'm still a relative newcomer to the selling end of things, with only about three years under my belt, but I bring a lifetime of buying secondhand to the table. My parents sort of got me into this, although they weren't really as serious about it as I became. Still, it's thanks to them that I learned about flea markets and thrift stores and such.
So with that in mind, I've decided to start sharing some of my early junking memories from time to time. I've been realizing since both my parents are gone now, how often I did secondhand shopping with them, both as a kid and as an adult. Neither one of them got to see my booths, but I think they'd be proud of what I've done. And I've had many significant friends and others who have played a role in my junking past as well. I'd like to pay tribute to them with a few posts along the way.
Shara has a great expression in the masthead to her blog: "Sometimes it's about the journey. Sometimes it's about the junk." To that, I would add: "Sometimes it's about both." That's what this series is about. I hope you'll join me as I look back on some of those memories of junk gone by.
Showing posts sorted by relevance for query junking memories. Sort by date Show all posts
Showing posts sorted by relevance for query junking memories. Sort by date Show all posts
Wednesday, March 28, 2012
Tuesday, July 10, 2012
Junkin' Memories: Family Ties
Finally, the long-awaited first segment in my Junkin' Memories series!
In some ways, it's my family's fault that I am a junker. They weren't really junkers, but I gathered a lot of the ingredients that make a good junker from them. And, while they didn't exactly encourage me to grow up and become a vendor in an indoor flea market set-up, they certainly provided me with more than enough inspiration.
To begin with, I was very close with both my grandparents and great-grandparents as a kid, so I saw and heard a lot about the ways things used to be done. My grandmother would open up the attic sometimes and I would sit up there and look through the boxes of old stuff. I remember reading some of the comics and kids' books that belong to my mother and uncles. When I was taking Algebra in middle school, my grandmother brought down her Algebra textbook to show me.
One of the real treasures at my grandparents' house was the box of family photos that was kept in a closet in the bathroom. Why the bathroom? I have no idea, but that's where they were. Every so often, the box would come out and we would look through them and listen to my mom and grandparents name off the people and share stories. I've got a lot of those photos now. When I look at them, I wish I had listened closer and tried to remember more.
My mom was the one who really taught me to respect what the older generations had to give, especially the stories. A lot of the family mementos that are now in my possession came down through her. She taught me to love and value things with history in them and save them to pass on. When we bought our house, she gave me a few of the old Christmas decorations that used to be hers when she was a kid. And every year after that, I got some kind of family item as a present: an old spoon from one of my father's mess kits, two settings of my grandmother's china, my grandmother's tablecloth.
Interestingly enough, it was also my mother who traumatized me in a way by getting rid of a lot of my childhood stuff when I was younger. As an Army family, we moved a lot and it seems like a lot of the stuff that we got rid of each move was mine and my brother's! I know I rebuilt my comic book collection at least three times. (Although, to her credit, when I went to college, she held on to the whole thing until I had a place of my own to put it in. And that was through three or four more moves.) The worst one, and one that she said she later regretted, was getting rid of Beartrack, my child hood Teddy. I had loved all the fuzz and both eyes off him and my grandmother recovered him with washcloths and gave him new button eyes. He didn't make it back from Germany. Mom said I was going on fourth grade and too old for a Teddy Bear, so out he went.
I think somehow both sides of my mother imprinted on me and affect me as a junker. I know the impact things can have on people and I also understand people who search and search for that lost childhood treasure. My mother was also the one who introduced me to the local flea market. (More on that in another post.)
It was my dad, however, who broadened my junking horizons without realizing it. I had a really strained relationship with him after my parents split. He had been stationed away from the family the last three years of his time in the Army, so when he retired and came home, he was a virtual stranger. My folks divorced soon after, and he didn't handle it well. Frankly, neither did I. I was already 15 at the time, living in small town Kentucky, and feeling the urges of same-sex attraction beginning and unable to talk to anyone about it. In short, I was isolated and confused. My parents' divorce isolated me from my church group, which was my primary peer support at that time. My own feelings cut me off from myself. And I pretty much took it out on my dad.
Visiting Dad became about shopping. He would take me anywhere and buy me just about anything in order to spend time with me and maybe get me to open up. And I took advantage of that. Yes, I was a brat. Totally. I didn't know how else to be. I was young and hurting and totally unable to express it. So on one visit, he said a fateful sentence to me, one that was to open me up to a whole avenue of shopping heretofore unknown to me: thrifting! "Ever been to the DAV?" he asked. I'd never even heard of it. And, wham! My life changed!
Old books! Old comics! Dishes! Clothes! Furniture! Strange items! You could find it all in a thrift. My wardrobe and library grew. And my love for thrifting has never gone away. It's amazing what a dollar or two will get you.
Perhaps the biggest family influence on me these days is my Uncle Mike. He's Mom's youngest brother and was a teenager when I was born, so we share a lot of the same memories about things. He's lived across the river in Indiana for years, but we didn't see each other much. Until Mom got sick, that is. One of the positive things to come out of her illness and death was reconnecting with Mike. Mom had always intended for us to be close. I'm named after him. (My first name is Michael, if you did not know.)
He's been a serious junker for several years--eBay, live auctions, booths, and flea markets. He's kind of my idol in that regard. I'd love to be able to make a go of it like he's doing. We get together and go junking at least once a week, and I learn so much about stuff from him. He gives me the unvarnishd truth, rather than the BS you get from a lot of junkers. He knows what I like to sell and keeps an eye out for stuff for me. I do the same for him. It's a lot of fun and I look forward to spending time with him.
I didn't start my booth because of him. We weren't really spending time together then. I did my first one on a lark. Still, it was kind of a thrill when Mom told me he had checked my space out and thought I was doing okay there. When the place he was in closed down, he moved over to the mall where I am.
Junking certainly isn't a family tradition, by any means. My mother never even got to see either of my booth spaces. But a whole bunch of other little influences and incidents added up to steer me on to the junking path, for sure.
In some ways, it's my family's fault that I am a junker. They weren't really junkers, but I gathered a lot of the ingredients that make a good junker from them. And, while they didn't exactly encourage me to grow up and become a vendor in an indoor flea market set-up, they certainly provided me with more than enough inspiration.
To begin with, I was very close with both my grandparents and great-grandparents as a kid, so I saw and heard a lot about the ways things used to be done. My grandmother would open up the attic sometimes and I would sit up there and look through the boxes of old stuff. I remember reading some of the comics and kids' books that belong to my mother and uncles. When I was taking Algebra in middle school, my grandmother brought down her Algebra textbook to show me.
One of the real treasures at my grandparents' house was the box of family photos that was kept in a closet in the bathroom. Why the bathroom? I have no idea, but that's where they were. Every so often, the box would come out and we would look through them and listen to my mom and grandparents name off the people and share stories. I've got a lot of those photos now. When I look at them, I wish I had listened closer and tried to remember more.
My mom was the one who really taught me to respect what the older generations had to give, especially the stories. A lot of the family mementos that are now in my possession came down through her. She taught me to love and value things with history in them and save them to pass on. When we bought our house, she gave me a few of the old Christmas decorations that used to be hers when she was a kid. And every year after that, I got some kind of family item as a present: an old spoon from one of my father's mess kits, two settings of my grandmother's china, my grandmother's tablecloth.
Interestingly enough, it was also my mother who traumatized me in a way by getting rid of a lot of my childhood stuff when I was younger. As an Army family, we moved a lot and it seems like a lot of the stuff that we got rid of each move was mine and my brother's! I know I rebuilt my comic book collection at least three times. (Although, to her credit, when I went to college, she held on to the whole thing until I had a place of my own to put it in. And that was through three or four more moves.) The worst one, and one that she said she later regretted, was getting rid of Beartrack, my child hood Teddy. I had loved all the fuzz and both eyes off him and my grandmother recovered him with washcloths and gave him new button eyes. He didn't make it back from Germany. Mom said I was going on fourth grade and too old for a Teddy Bear, so out he went.
I think somehow both sides of my mother imprinted on me and affect me as a junker. I know the impact things can have on people and I also understand people who search and search for that lost childhood treasure. My mother was also the one who introduced me to the local flea market. (More on that in another post.)
It was my dad, however, who broadened my junking horizons without realizing it. I had a really strained relationship with him after my parents split. He had been stationed away from the family the last three years of his time in the Army, so when he retired and came home, he was a virtual stranger. My folks divorced soon after, and he didn't handle it well. Frankly, neither did I. I was already 15 at the time, living in small town Kentucky, and feeling the urges of same-sex attraction beginning and unable to talk to anyone about it. In short, I was isolated and confused. My parents' divorce isolated me from my church group, which was my primary peer support at that time. My own feelings cut me off from myself. And I pretty much took it out on my dad.
Visiting Dad became about shopping. He would take me anywhere and buy me just about anything in order to spend time with me and maybe get me to open up. And I took advantage of that. Yes, I was a brat. Totally. I didn't know how else to be. I was young and hurting and totally unable to express it. So on one visit, he said a fateful sentence to me, one that was to open me up to a whole avenue of shopping heretofore unknown to me: thrifting! "Ever been to the DAV?" he asked. I'd never even heard of it. And, wham! My life changed!
Old books! Old comics! Dishes! Clothes! Furniture! Strange items! You could find it all in a thrift. My wardrobe and library grew. And my love for thrifting has never gone away. It's amazing what a dollar or two will get you.
Perhaps the biggest family influence on me these days is my Uncle Mike. He's Mom's youngest brother and was a teenager when I was born, so we share a lot of the same memories about things. He's lived across the river in Indiana for years, but we didn't see each other much. Until Mom got sick, that is. One of the positive things to come out of her illness and death was reconnecting with Mike. Mom had always intended for us to be close. I'm named after him. (My first name is Michael, if you did not know.)
He's been a serious junker for several years--eBay, live auctions, booths, and flea markets. He's kind of my idol in that regard. I'd love to be able to make a go of it like he's doing. We get together and go junking at least once a week, and I learn so much about stuff from him. He gives me the unvarnishd truth, rather than the BS you get from a lot of junkers. He knows what I like to sell and keeps an eye out for stuff for me. I do the same for him. It's a lot of fun and I look forward to spending time with him.
I didn't start my booth because of him. We weren't really spending time together then. I did my first one on a lark. Still, it was kind of a thrill when Mom told me he had checked my space out and thought I was doing okay there. When the place he was in closed down, he moved over to the mall where I am.
Junking certainly isn't a family tradition, by any means. My mother never even got to see either of my booth spaces. But a whole bunch of other little influences and incidents added up to steer me on to the junking path, for sure.
Thursday, September 03, 2015
Ask Eddie Anything: The Junk Thing
Let's see now....
Where were we?
Oh, yeah. I remember.
Linda asked:
"Questions, how did you get started in the junk business?"
A lot of this has been covered in other posts. I think the best way to handle this is with some quick links to those posts for background, then I'll fill in the blanks in this post.
First off, all my posts with the "junking memories" label. A couple aren't totally relevant, but the ones called "Family Ties" and "Leitchfield Flea Market" kind of lay the groundwork for my junk history. I've kind of let the thread drop on this series. I need to pick that up again. I know I've got a couple of drafts for new posts somewhere in my list.
Another one to read is this one that I wrote after moving out of Dixie earlier this year. It tells the story of my growth there.
Finally, here is the very first post featuring my very first booth, practically from the very first day. You can see pics of a tubby, slightly more clean-shaven, pre-cancer Eddie in this post. I got so wrapped up in doing the booth (plus a few other things) that I didn't blog again for a whole year!
Now that the groundwork has been laid, here are some of the finishing details. Keith and I had been doing some heavy duty yard saling for a couple of years, usually getting stuff for the house, presents (for a long time almost every birthday and Christmas gift we gave was yard saled or thrifted), or stuff for us. From time to time, I would grab something and say that when I got my booth, this would go in it. I had a "someday booth" kind of like Laurie's beach house.
Right after we moved into the house, we went to our very first Peddlers Mall and I was in love with the idea. People were selling junk! I had junk! I could sell my junk! But it was just a dream I never did anything with. A little later, the friend we used to have yard sales with took a booth in a secondhand store. We kind of had a ringside seat at learning how to do it. When I finally bit, I had an idea of what to expect.
What finally pushed me over the edge was a combination of factors. I had talked with the store where my friend was, but gotten turned down, as that owner only took vendors he knew and selected. I had also placed my name on a waiting list at a Peddlers Mall. I was told they had a six month waiting list. I never heard back from them.
I went to the opening of the Dixie Peddlers Mall and they had open spaces, which would mean no waiting list. Anyone could sign up. No funky vetting procedures. Keith was away that weekend, and I wanted to talk to him before I actually took the plunge.
At that particular time, I needed an outlet badly. I was trapped in a job that I was coming not just to hate, but to despise. Too many reorganizations and shuffles. An overly bloated top tier loaded with incompetent cronies. A toxic atmosphere where secrecy, favoritism, and backbiting were the order of the day. I had watched both a good friend and a supervisor become targets of scapegoating and witch hunting. The supervisor got summarily dismissed. A few months later, it became pretty obvious that my ass was in the target zone.
I needed something to help me keep my sanity and restore a very badly-shattered self-esteem. I had no idea how badly wounded I was by the whole experience until the day I finally got canned along with almost ten other people, barely a month after my mother died. I was pretty shattered.
The booth kept me sane that last year of employment by giving me distraction--something that I could do where I only had to answer to myself. I only had to please me. I could do things my way and learn my own lessons. With so much else out of my control, having something where I was making the decisions meant so much to me. Any money that I made was a bonus.
Doing well proved to me that I was not the incompetent fool that I was being made out to be by the people who kept changing the rules at work to make it so. Having a place to put energy, initiative and creativity that I was not allowed to exercise at work allowed me to reinvent myself.
After I lost my job, grieving my mother and full of a lot of rage, I threw myself into selling junk. Keith says it saved me. I tend to agree. Junk healed me, as melodramatic as that sounds.
There are the germs for two or three Junkin' Memories posts in this one. Look for a flurry of those to come sometime in the future. After I finish all the Ask Eddie Anything questions, of course.
Where were we?
Oh, yeah. I remember.
Linda asked:
"Questions, how did you get started in the junk business?"
A lot of this has been covered in other posts. I think the best way to handle this is with some quick links to those posts for background, then I'll fill in the blanks in this post.
First off, all my posts with the "junking memories" label. A couple aren't totally relevant, but the ones called "Family Ties" and "Leitchfield Flea Market" kind of lay the groundwork for my junk history. I've kind of let the thread drop on this series. I need to pick that up again. I know I've got a couple of drafts for new posts somewhere in my list.
Another one to read is this one that I wrote after moving out of Dixie earlier this year. It tells the story of my growth there.
Finally, here is the very first post featuring my very first booth, practically from the very first day. You can see pics of a tubby, slightly more clean-shaven, pre-cancer Eddie in this post. I got so wrapped up in doing the booth (plus a few other things) that I didn't blog again for a whole year!
Now that the groundwork has been laid, here are some of the finishing details. Keith and I had been doing some heavy duty yard saling for a couple of years, usually getting stuff for the house, presents (for a long time almost every birthday and Christmas gift we gave was yard saled or thrifted), or stuff for us. From time to time, I would grab something and say that when I got my booth, this would go in it. I had a "someday booth" kind of like Laurie's beach house.
Right after we moved into the house, we went to our very first Peddlers Mall and I was in love with the idea. People were selling junk! I had junk! I could sell my junk! But it was just a dream I never did anything with. A little later, the friend we used to have yard sales with took a booth in a secondhand store. We kind of had a ringside seat at learning how to do it. When I finally bit, I had an idea of what to expect.
What finally pushed me over the edge was a combination of factors. I had talked with the store where my friend was, but gotten turned down, as that owner only took vendors he knew and selected. I had also placed my name on a waiting list at a Peddlers Mall. I was told they had a six month waiting list. I never heard back from them.
I went to the opening of the Dixie Peddlers Mall and they had open spaces, which would mean no waiting list. Anyone could sign up. No funky vetting procedures. Keith was away that weekend, and I wanted to talk to him before I actually took the plunge.
At that particular time, I needed an outlet badly. I was trapped in a job that I was coming not just to hate, but to despise. Too many reorganizations and shuffles. An overly bloated top tier loaded with incompetent cronies. A toxic atmosphere where secrecy, favoritism, and backbiting were the order of the day. I had watched both a good friend and a supervisor become targets of scapegoating and witch hunting. The supervisor got summarily dismissed. A few months later, it became pretty obvious that my ass was in the target zone.
I needed something to help me keep my sanity and restore a very badly-shattered self-esteem. I had no idea how badly wounded I was by the whole experience until the day I finally got canned along with almost ten other people, barely a month after my mother died. I was pretty shattered.
The booth kept me sane that last year of employment by giving me distraction--something that I could do where I only had to answer to myself. I only had to please me. I could do things my way and learn my own lessons. With so much else out of my control, having something where I was making the decisions meant so much to me. Any money that I made was a bonus.
Doing well proved to me that I was not the incompetent fool that I was being made out to be by the people who kept changing the rules at work to make it so. Having a place to put energy, initiative and creativity that I was not allowed to exercise at work allowed me to reinvent myself.
After I lost my job, grieving my mother and full of a lot of rage, I threw myself into selling junk. Keith says it saved me. I tend to agree. Junk healed me, as melodramatic as that sounds.
There are the germs for two or three Junkin' Memories posts in this one. Look for a flurry of those to come sometime in the future. After I finish all the Ask Eddie Anything questions, of course.
Friday, February 14, 2014
100 Reasons I Love Being a Junker
Back in the day, there was this thing that went around the comics blogosphere where, at Valentines, folks posted lists of 100 things they loved about comics. I never did this, but always wanted to. I even made notes for a list, but never got around to doing it. I also made notes for a "!00 Things I Love about Living in Louisville" list. I found that one the other day. Probably 20% of the places named on it are now closed. Sigh.
I got to thinking bout those lists a little while ago and decided that it was finally time (nearly a decade after the trend has died) to do one of my own. Not about comics, but about junking. (But there is some junking-related comics content. Never stray too far from your roots, man.)
Of course, being me, I can't just list things. I have to talk about a few of them and share some links. And name-drop a bit. If I didn't mention you on my list, it's not because you're not one of the things I love about junking, but because I ran out of room. Or I forgot. Or something. Remember, there's always next year.
Happy Valentines Day, everyone!
By Michael Edward Mitchell, age 48
1. It's an excuse to shop! C'mon, everyone! Let's be honest about this one!
2. It keeps me from being a hoarder! At least that's the justification...
3. Old comic books. It's where I began.
4. BOOKS! I'll always have way too many.
5. Vintage religious items. I buy 'em. I sell 'em. I collect 'em. I love 'em!
6. Making new friends
7. All the crew at Dixie Peddlers Mall! Y'all rock! Shout-outs to Dianna, Tiffany, Theresa, Elizabeth, Brenda, Richie, Jim and James!
8. Thrifting: My dad took me to my first DAV. It was downhill from there!
9. 50% off day at the ACB thrift: Happens every now and again.
10. 50% off day at Unique: Happens on Monday holidays. The crowds are crazy and it's impossible to get a cart. I love it!
11. 50% off tags at SVDP: Happens every month! They use colored tags and every month a different color is half off!
12. YARD SALES!!!! Counting the minutes until Spring...
13. CHURCH SALES!!!! Keep reading for the ones I never miss.
14. Going through your haul at the end of the day. Bit by bit, it all adds up!
15. Finding the "theme of the day" Some days you see the same oddball item at every sale you hit. Salsa kits. Fondue pots. Porta-Potties. Who knows what you're gonna see?
16. Buying junk from kids
17. Blessed Sacrament Church Sale. It always seems to be held the same weekend that one of the Derby footraces hopelessly tie up traffic in the neighborhood, but it's worth the effort to get there.
18. Big representations of things that are small. I love it when scale is played with and inverted. Makes for interesting things and I like to by and sell interesting things.
19. The Five Guys!
20. All the other Peddlers Malls: Louisville is blessed with an abundance of vendor malls. They provide a nice alternative to the thrifts and the antique malls. I love 'em all!
21. Booths with good stuff cheap. Don't forget to shop your neighbors! I do it all the time.
22. Small city and neighborhood sales. Louisville has dozens of little incorporated cities within its borders. It's a bit of a political and logistical headache, but many of them have their own designated citywide yard sale days! I'm all for that!
23. Vendors who don't take themselves so seriously. We're in this to make some money, sure, but this is supposed to be fun! I can make money in a dozen different ways and be unhappy while doing it.
24. Broadway Baptist Winter Sale: One of my favorites. The last hour is half off and there is always a ton of stuff!
25. Small representations of things that are big
26. Old Hymnals
27. All my peeps at Yard Sale Queen! Holla! Laying aside my lame attempts to sound hip and young, there's not a nicer online forum around! I have learned so much in the few years I've been a member. Just a super great group of people!
28. Dixie Trading Post. Home of my second booth.
29. The Big Flea! The original and still finest. I've spent many a fine junking hour wandering those aisles. When I am old and decrepit, I'll be paying young whippersnappers to push my chair up and down the aisles and carry my bags of stuff.
More list love after the jump!
I got to thinking bout those lists a little while ago and decided that it was finally time (nearly a decade after the trend has died) to do one of my own. Not about comics, but about junking. (But there is some junking-related comics content. Never stray too far from your roots, man.)
Of course, being me, I can't just list things. I have to talk about a few of them and share some links. And name-drop a bit. If I didn't mention you on my list, it's not because you're not one of the things I love about junking, but because I ran out of room. Or I forgot. Or something. Remember, there's always next year.
Happy Valentines Day, everyone!
ONE HUNDRED THINGS I LOVE ABOUT BEING A JUNKER!
By Michael Edward Mitchell, age 48
1. It's an excuse to shop! C'mon, everyone! Let's be honest about this one!
2. It keeps me from being a hoarder! At least that's the justification...
3. Old comic books. It's where I began.
4. BOOKS! I'll always have way too many.
5. Vintage religious items. I buy 'em. I sell 'em. I collect 'em. I love 'em!
6. Making new friends
7. All the crew at Dixie Peddlers Mall! Y'all rock! Shout-outs to Dianna, Tiffany, Theresa, Elizabeth, Brenda, Richie, Jim and James!
8. Thrifting: My dad took me to my first DAV. It was downhill from there!
9. 50% off day at the ACB thrift: Happens every now and again.
10. 50% off day at Unique: Happens on Monday holidays. The crowds are crazy and it's impossible to get a cart. I love it!
11. 50% off tags at SVDP: Happens every month! They use colored tags and every month a different color is half off!
12. YARD SALES!!!! Counting the minutes until Spring...
13. CHURCH SALES!!!! Keep reading for the ones I never miss.
14. Going through your haul at the end of the day. Bit by bit, it all adds up!
15. Finding the "theme of the day" Some days you see the same oddball item at every sale you hit. Salsa kits. Fondue pots. Porta-Potties. Who knows what you're gonna see?
16. Buying junk from kids
17. Blessed Sacrament Church Sale. It always seems to be held the same weekend that one of the Derby footraces hopelessly tie up traffic in the neighborhood, but it's worth the effort to get there.
18. Big representations of things that are small. I love it when scale is played with and inverted. Makes for interesting things and I like to by and sell interesting things.
19. The Five Guys!
20. All the other Peddlers Malls: Louisville is blessed with an abundance of vendor malls. They provide a nice alternative to the thrifts and the antique malls. I love 'em all!
21. Booths with good stuff cheap. Don't forget to shop your neighbors! I do it all the time.
22. Small city and neighborhood sales. Louisville has dozens of little incorporated cities within its borders. It's a bit of a political and logistical headache, but many of them have their own designated citywide yard sale days! I'm all for that!
23. Vendors who don't take themselves so seriously. We're in this to make some money, sure, but this is supposed to be fun! I can make money in a dozen different ways and be unhappy while doing it.
24. Broadway Baptist Winter Sale: One of my favorites. The last hour is half off and there is always a ton of stuff!
25. Small representations of things that are big
26. Old Hymnals
27. All my peeps at Yard Sale Queen! Holla! Laying aside my lame attempts to sound hip and young, there's not a nicer online forum around! I have learned so much in the few years I've been a member. Just a super great group of people!
28. Dixie Trading Post. Home of my second booth.
29. The Big Flea! The original and still finest. I've spent many a fine junking hour wandering those aisles. When I am old and decrepit, I'll be paying young whippersnappers to push my chair up and down the aisles and carry my bags of stuff.
More list love after the jump!
Tuesday, June 11, 2013
Junkin' Memories: Leitchfield Flea Market
I started early as a junker. I didn't realize it at the time, of course, but I was on my way by the time I was in high school. I may have only been hunting comic books at the time, but I was hunting something. Everybody's gotta start somewhere, you know.
There's an awesome rural tradition that's particularly prevalent in the South, the local flea market. At one point in time, most small towns had them. Many still do today. Not to mention all those "wide spots on the side of the road" kinds of flea markets.
I was lucky enough to grow up in a town that had a flea market every Wednesday. It was down at the stockyards, so we called our junking trips "going to the stockyards." When I was younger, I went with my mom, who went from time to time. When I was a teen, I would walk down there with my best friend. We went every week.
It's pretty common for these kinds of flea markets to be associated with stock yards or produce markets. A lot of them grew out of the idea of the "market day" when everybody brought their produce or livestock in to sell. These days also became a day for peddlers to hark their wares, and junking was born!
Back in the day, my main objective was comic books. The flea market was a way to fill in holes in my collection and also find older issues without spending a lot of money. When you're into comics, you have to always remember to have some money on hand to get the newest arrivals each week. That means you can't spend too much on older stuff, especially if you're a kid.
There was one guy that we used to buy from just about every week. I remember going to another flea market with my dad and seeing him there. It was kind of shocking to see him at "some other" flea market. It was my first exposure to the idea that there were people who would go from place to place selling their stuff.
One week, this guy was selling out his stock. All the comics were ten cents each! I was supposed to meet my dad there, but I got there first. I ended up borrowing money from my grandfather (who conveniently wandered by) until my dad got there. That was a close one!
That flea market holds a lot of good memories for me. It's probably where I cut my teeth as a junker, even though I didn't realize it at the time. I'm glad to say that it is still there, every Wednesday, just like always. Not even the presence of a Super Wal-Mart nearby has put a stop to it.
There's an awesome rural tradition that's particularly prevalent in the South, the local flea market. At one point in time, most small towns had them. Many still do today. Not to mention all those "wide spots on the side of the road" kinds of flea markets.
I was lucky enough to grow up in a town that had a flea market every Wednesday. It was down at the stockyards, so we called our junking trips "going to the stockyards." When I was younger, I went with my mom, who went from time to time. When I was a teen, I would walk down there with my best friend. We went every week.
It's pretty common for these kinds of flea markets to be associated with stock yards or produce markets. A lot of them grew out of the idea of the "market day" when everybody brought their produce or livestock in to sell. These days also became a day for peddlers to hark their wares, and junking was born!
Back in the day, my main objective was comic books. The flea market was a way to fill in holes in my collection and also find older issues without spending a lot of money. When you're into comics, you have to always remember to have some money on hand to get the newest arrivals each week. That means you can't spend too much on older stuff, especially if you're a kid.
There was one guy that we used to buy from just about every week. I remember going to another flea market with my dad and seeing him there. It was kind of shocking to see him at "some other" flea market. It was my first exposure to the idea that there were people who would go from place to place selling their stuff.
One week, this guy was selling out his stock. All the comics were ten cents each! I was supposed to meet my dad there, but I got there first. I ended up borrowing money from my grandfather (who conveniently wandered by) until my dad got there. That was a close one!
That flea market holds a lot of good memories for me. It's probably where I cut my teeth as a junker, even though I didn't realize it at the time. I'm glad to say that it is still there, every Wednesday, just like always. Not even the presence of a Super Wal-Mart nearby has put a stop to it.
Friday, July 26, 2013
Junking Memories: End of an Era?
Last week, I talked about a barn sale for a thrift that apparently has closed. I say "apparently" because no formal announcement has been made, but the store web page says "closed until further notice." The fact that they have cleared out their storage garage so that it can be torn down kind of lends a little more credence to the "closed" idea.
I'm kind of bummed about it. Losing a thrift is always sad, even though this one, of late, has been pretty low on my list. It wasn't always that way, but more on that in a minute. I think Louisville is pretty thrift-poor for a large city. We mainly have only the "name brands"--Goodwill and the like. We have none of those little church-run thrifts staffed by little old ladies who mark things for fifty cents. Heck, we're even poor in the "name brand" department. Salvation Army closed its stores here a couple of years ago.
When this thrift first opened, it kind of filled that need for a little church-run thrift. It's connected with a Catholic children's home, and in the old days was run by a couple of nuns and a bunch of volunteers, most of whom were older folks. They had several rooms in three different buildings that were just crammed with all kinds of donations. It was like they took anything that was offered to them. It was a wonderful jumble of all kinds of stuff. You could literally find anything there.
Mostly, the stuff wasn't priced. You'd gather your armload and sister or one of the volunteers would price it, usually for a dollar or less. They had this awesome section of religious articles that I would beeline for and load up! I wasn't selling in those days justhoarding collecting, but it was a dream. Room after room of fascinating awesomeness. Cheap awesomeness. To say that I loved it would be an understatement.
The one problem with the place was the hours. It was only open Monday and Thursday mornings, along with one Saturday morning a month. It really made hitting the place rather difficult.
Slowly but surely, the place started to change. First they moved the bulk of it into one small house. Then, it started to become less and less cluttered. Then, the price tags started appearing. By this time, I was selling. The prices weren't bad. It was just a shock to see them.
Somewhere along this time, they hired a manager or some kind of staff person. They got moved into a smaller place. There was less selection. They adopted regular hours. Prices went up. Ironically, as it became more accessible, everything about the place that made it unique and worth going to kind of dropped away. I used to try to get there every chance I could make my schedule work. By the end, I was hardly going at all.
I know that some other stuff happened. There was a fire that closed it down for a while, but it opened back up. Now, I just don't know what they are going to do with it. It's kind of sad. Even if it does reopen, it'll never be the way it was in the beginning. I'll definitely miss what it used to be.
I'm kind of bummed about it. Losing a thrift is always sad, even though this one, of late, has been pretty low on my list. It wasn't always that way, but more on that in a minute. I think Louisville is pretty thrift-poor for a large city. We mainly have only the "name brands"--Goodwill and the like. We have none of those little church-run thrifts staffed by little old ladies who mark things for fifty cents. Heck, we're even poor in the "name brand" department. Salvation Army closed its stores here a couple of years ago.
When this thrift first opened, it kind of filled that need for a little church-run thrift. It's connected with a Catholic children's home, and in the old days was run by a couple of nuns and a bunch of volunteers, most of whom were older folks. They had several rooms in three different buildings that were just crammed with all kinds of donations. It was like they took anything that was offered to them. It was a wonderful jumble of all kinds of stuff. You could literally find anything there.
Mostly, the stuff wasn't priced. You'd gather your armload and sister or one of the volunteers would price it, usually for a dollar or less. They had this awesome section of religious articles that I would beeline for and load up! I wasn't selling in those days just
The one problem with the place was the hours. It was only open Monday and Thursday mornings, along with one Saturday morning a month. It really made hitting the place rather difficult.
Slowly but surely, the place started to change. First they moved the bulk of it into one small house. Then, it started to become less and less cluttered. Then, the price tags started appearing. By this time, I was selling. The prices weren't bad. It was just a shock to see them.
Somewhere along this time, they hired a manager or some kind of staff person. They got moved into a smaller place. There was less selection. They adopted regular hours. Prices went up. Ironically, as it became more accessible, everything about the place that made it unique and worth going to kind of dropped away. I used to try to get there every chance I could make my schedule work. By the end, I was hardly going at all.
I know that some other stuff happened. There was a fire that closed it down for a while, but it opened back up. Now, I just don't know what they are going to do with it. It's kind of sad. Even if it does reopen, it'll never be the way it was in the beginning. I'll definitely miss what it used to be.
Monday, July 16, 2012
Monday Rambles
Finally! A much cooler week! Thank goodness! We were even spared the worst of the storms that hit other places after the heat wave pulled out. I'll take it! For sure!
I had one of those old ABC Sports moments the other day at one of the booths. I was rearranging some stuff, when a woman expressed interest in an end table that had been there forever. I agreed to take a couple of bucks off and she agreed to buy it. I carried it downstairs for her.
As she was checking out, she decided it was too wobbly and was on the verge of saying that she did not want it.
And the agony of lugging the thing back up stairs. But, it was pointed out to her that the floor in front of the register is uneven and, when she moved it over, it didn't wobble. Purchase made!
I had one of those old ABC Sports moments the other day at one of the booths. I was rearranging some stuff, when a woman expressed interest in an end table that had been there forever. I agreed to take a couple of bucks off and she agreed to buy it. I carried it downstairs for her.
THE THRILL OF VICTORY!
As she was checking out, she decided it was too wobbly and was on the verge of saying that she did not want it.
THE AGONY OF DEFEAT!
And the agony of lugging the thing back up stairs. But, it was pointed out to her that the floor in front of the register is uneven and, when she moved it over, it didn't wobble. Purchase made!
THE THRILL OF VICTORY!
Had an interesting experience the other day. I got to Goodwill before it opened. That's never happened before. I wasn't sure whether to go on or wait for the store to open. I ended up deciding to wait, but then had to ponder what my life has become. I sit and wait for thrift stores to open. I can't decide whether that's pathetic or kind of cool.
Then, I got in the store and found three Pyrex mixing bowls for 57 cents each, so I stopped all the silly philosophizing and went with the flow.
Actually, that Pyrex was my find of the week. To begin with, I hardly ever find Pyrex, other than the clear glass stuff. Then, when I do, it's never mixing bowls. And, on the rare occasions when I do find the bowls, it's always the solid color bowls and not the patterns. And then, I never, ever, ever, ever find any for less than a dollar each!!!
(I know the pattern is pretty common, but my enthusiasm remains undampened. And, no, I can't explain 57 cents as a price point. Who knows what they think in the backrooms of Goodwills?)
This post puts me ahead of 2010's post total! One more to go and then I'll be into new territory! And I've noticed that my overall total is edging closer and closer to 800. Hmmm.....
Speaking of posts, I'm clearing out my backlog again. Those "Practical Yard Sale Advice" posts had been sitting around, 75% complete, for ages. I'm glad to move them off into cyberspace. Now I'm going to work on getting some more Junking Memories posts completed. I have several started already, but some are not past the title stage yet.
Yard sales were a mixed bag this weekend. One of my favorite church sales did not fail to disappoint. Got a big box of stuff for very little cash. One of the volunteers kept waiting for me to gather up a few items, then he would come get them and put them into my box at the register. It was like having a personal attendant! And also a stalker.
Most of the individual sales we hit didn't measure up, but the neighborhood sale (another one I look forward to each year) was grooving along just fine. The trunk was full The backseat was filling up. And, then, it started raining. And that was the end of that.
I don't mean to sound ungrateful for very much-needed rain, but, man, I only needed a couple more dry hours!
Oh well, Sunday we went to a synagogue sale and everything was fine again.
I'm starting to gather new in the package items from clearance racks and sales and stash them away for my "gift ideas" table during the holidays. I haven't really seen many holiday items worth picking up otherwise. I think I'm going to put up a small "Xmas in July" section this week at the Peddlers Mall and put out some leftover Xmas stuff. It'll be a nice change of pace.
I'll probably leave it up until the end of the month, then shift to back to school stuff. That reminds me. I've got to start bagging and pricing my excess office supplies for back to school. For some reason I have tons of extra pens, post its, notepads, notebooks, scissors and the like. Way more than I need or want. Way more than I ever remember buying. Certainly way more than I could ever actually use. (I think I might be sleep-hoarding office supplies?) I might as well get something out of them and declutter a bit.
I'll be pet and house sitting this weekend. I'll only be gone a couple of days, so I'm not sure if I'll pre-schedule some posts or just not post. You'll know what I'm planning probably right around the time I do, I suspect.
Finally, courtesy of the ever wonderful Yard Sale Queen, enjoy the best in YARD SALE MUSIC VIDEOS!!!
¡Hasta lueguito!
Thursday, October 18, 2012
Comic Buy
Eddie-tor's Note: I have been trying to write a Junkin' Memories post about comics for a while now, but I can't seem to keep it from being four or five parts. They've been just so intertwined in my life for so long that it's hard to be brief when I talk about them. While I wrestle with that issue, another opportunity to talk about comics popped up for me. Let's see if I can do this one in just one post.
A couple of weeks ago, the best local comic shop was having a sidewalk sale, which they do every so often. It's the kind of thing I never miss, if I can help it. It used to be that I was looking for finds for my own collection. Now, I go looking for stuff to sell. When the comics are a quarter or less, I can usually find it, too. I sell a lot of comics, you know.
My relationship to comics has changed over the years, but this store is still kind of special to me. It's the first comic shop I ever visited, way back in my senior year of high school. My best friend and I came up right after Christmas that year. It was an amazing experience for me. So many comics in one little spot.
That was 30 years ago, and when you consider that the store has been open for 35 years, that means that I have been shopping there, in one form or another, for most of its existence. Most of mine too, now that I think about it. Even though I am not a regular any more, one of the managers still knows me by name. It's that kind of place.
Anyway, back to the sidewalk sale. Usually, these sales are about clearing out overstock of titles from the past couple of years that didn't sell through as expected. I'm looking for these "event" issues that were hyped up and sought out then, but have cooled waaaay off now. If I can pick several up in the 25 cent range, I can make decent money reselling them at a fraction of the cover price. It's a strategy that seems to work. With prices of comics these days, not everyone can afford to run out and buy every issue of the big crossover story any more.
When I was digging around in the boxes, though, something else happened. I found memories. For some of us, the nostalgic aspect of junking is a motivating factor. It's just that instead of striking the nostalgia chord by buying something to keep, we buy it to pass on and strike someone else's nostalgia chord. I've found that it's just as satisfying to own something for as long as it takes to sell it, as it is to hang onto it for life.
You have to understand that when I was a young lad trolling the quarter boxes at flea markets and in shops, they were treasure bins. Classics from the late sixties and early seventies would fall into my hands. Eighty page giants. One hundred page specials. Classic stories. Classic art. I built an awesome collection a quarter at a time.
This was pre-eBay, pre-internet, when things were abundant and cheap and you never knew what you would find. Quarter boxes haven't been like that for years, if you can even find them these days. Mostly, they're fifty-cent boxes any more. For a few moments that Saturday afternoon, things were almost like they used to be. I was finding treasure scattered amongst the merchandise.
This was one of the first Marvel comics I can ever remember buying with my own money. I got my copy at the old drug store on the square in my hometown, the one with the soda fountain where they cut your hot dog in half down the middle and fried it on the grill. They never had very many comics, but they did have a few on their magazine rack.
I was never that into Marvel as a kid. I just always preferred the color and wonder of DC's to Marvel's angst and bombast. But I liked the Invaders. Until I got into the X-men a few years later, it was the only Marvel comic I followed.
This was a reminder of quarter boxes past. You used to be able to find these old giants all the time. You sure can't find them on eBay for that price! I didn't get to the sale until about one o'clock, so I was surprised this was still there. Kids these days don't know what they're missing. I already have this one (and the Invaders above), so they'll go to the booth to be passed on to someone else.
My mom would go through these phases when she would try to "clean up" my comic collection. Mind you, this was in the late seventies and early eighties. Mainstream, newsstand comics were pretty tame in those days. One year for my birthday, she got me a whole stack of Spire Christian comics. Another time, it was a bunch of these literary adaptations.
After Wonder Woman and Teen Titans, this was my favorite title, drawn by one of my favorite artists. I am pretty sure I have both of these, but I'm hanging onto them until I know fir sure. I've been paring my collection way down over the years, but some things you keep.
Finally, a find I could not believe. You never find these Classics Junior issues for a quarter, even when they're in rough shape. These babies are keepers. I've always loved the Classics Illustrated titles. I read a ton of them when I was young and they were still being published. I think my mother may have had a hand in that as well.
One of the wonderful things about junking is that you just never know what waits for you when you set out. This is true no matter what the reason you go out searching for junk. Sometimes the unexpected find is tangible and will bring you dollars. Other times, it's just a memory that makes you happy. I'm not sure which I prefer more.
A couple of weeks ago, the best local comic shop was having a sidewalk sale, which they do every so often. It's the kind of thing I never miss, if I can help it. It used to be that I was looking for finds for my own collection. Now, I go looking for stuff to sell. When the comics are a quarter or less, I can usually find it, too. I sell a lot of comics, you know.
My relationship to comics has changed over the years, but this store is still kind of special to me. It's the first comic shop I ever visited, way back in my senior year of high school. My best friend and I came up right after Christmas that year. It was an amazing experience for me. So many comics in one little spot.
That was 30 years ago, and when you consider that the store has been open for 35 years, that means that I have been shopping there, in one form or another, for most of its existence. Most of mine too, now that I think about it. Even though I am not a regular any more, one of the managers still knows me by name. It's that kind of place.
Anyway, back to the sidewalk sale. Usually, these sales are about clearing out overstock of titles from the past couple of years that didn't sell through as expected. I'm looking for these "event" issues that were hyped up and sought out then, but have cooled waaaay off now. If I can pick several up in the 25 cent range, I can make decent money reselling them at a fraction of the cover price. It's a strategy that seems to work. With prices of comics these days, not everyone can afford to run out and buy every issue of the big crossover story any more.
When I was digging around in the boxes, though, something else happened. I found memories. For some of us, the nostalgic aspect of junking is a motivating factor. It's just that instead of striking the nostalgia chord by buying something to keep, we buy it to pass on and strike someone else's nostalgia chord. I've found that it's just as satisfying to own something for as long as it takes to sell it, as it is to hang onto it for life.
You have to understand that when I was a young lad trolling the quarter boxes at flea markets and in shops, they were treasure bins. Classics from the late sixties and early seventies would fall into my hands. Eighty page giants. One hundred page specials. Classic stories. Classic art. I built an awesome collection a quarter at a time.
This was pre-eBay, pre-internet, when things were abundant and cheap and you never knew what you would find. Quarter boxes haven't been like that for years, if you can even find them these days. Mostly, they're fifty-cent boxes any more. For a few moments that Saturday afternoon, things were almost like they used to be. I was finding treasure scattered amongst the merchandise.
This was one of the first Marvel comics I can ever remember buying with my own money. I got my copy at the old drug store on the square in my hometown, the one with the soda fountain where they cut your hot dog in half down the middle and fried it on the grill. They never had very many comics, but they did have a few on their magazine rack.
 |
| What If? (first series) #4 |
I was never that into Marvel as a kid. I just always preferred the color and wonder of DC's to Marvel's angst and bombast. But I liked the Invaders. Until I got into the X-men a few years later, it was the only Marvel comic I followed.
 |
| Superboy #208 |
This was a reminder of quarter boxes past. You used to be able to find these old giants all the time. You sure can't find them on eBay for that price! I didn't get to the sale until about one o'clock, so I was surprised this was still there. Kids these days don't know what they're missing. I already have this one (and the Invaders above), so they'll go to the booth to be passed on to someone else.
My mom would go through these phases when she would try to "clean up" my comic collection. Mind you, this was in the late seventies and early eighties. Mainstream, newsstand comics were pretty tame in those days. One year for my birthday, she got me a whole stack of Spire Christian comics. Another time, it was a bunch of these literary adaptations.
 |
| Marvel Classics #18 |
After Wonder Woman and Teen Titans, this was my favorite title, drawn by one of my favorite artists. I am pretty sure I have both of these, but I'm hanging onto them until I know fir sure. I've been paring my collection way down over the years, but some things you keep.
 |
| Two more Superboys, for which I did not note the issue numbers. |
Finally, a find I could not believe. You never find these Classics Junior issues for a quarter, even when they're in rough shape. These babies are keepers. I've always loved the Classics Illustrated titles. I read a ton of them when I was young and they were still being published. I think my mother may have had a hand in that as well.
 |
| A gaggle of Classics Illustrated Juniors |
One of the wonderful things about junking is that you just never know what waits for you when you set out. This is true no matter what the reason you go out searching for junk. Sometimes the unexpected find is tangible and will bring you dollars. Other times, it's just a memory that makes you happy. I'm not sure which I prefer more.
Wednesday, July 17, 2013
ROAD TRIP!
Saturday, we loaded up the car and headed out on a brief road trip. At my grandfather's funeral, I noticed that the flowers on my parents' graves were really weatherbeaten and tattered. The cemetery is not far away from Louisville, but it's far enough that we don't get over there very often.
This is the kind of thing we could have done in a day trip--just pop down there and back--but I wanted to make a bit of an adventure out of it. I planned for us to take the old highways, rather than the parkway, and hit the flea markets and thrifts along the way. I also got us a totally unnecessary hotel room, because I wanted to make it an overnight trip.
Usually by this point in the summer, I've gone camping with Keith at least once. With the chemo, I'm just not up to roughing it, but I really wanted to get away with him. So, even though my old hometown is less than two hours away, I still got us a room.
Unfortunately the junking was not good.
First stop was an antique mall that I've always wanted to stop in. It was totally not my kind of place.
Seriously not my kind of place. With prices to match, I might add. Although I did see a couple of cool things, like these replicas of the Chinese terracotta warriors.
I even made a new friend, although I'm not quite sure if her intentions are honorable.
I also saw one of those old-timey comic book racks like they used to have in store when I was a kid. I've always wanted one! It's kind of sad to see the dilapidated older comics sagging out of it. Those are not the most practical means of long-term storage and display for comics, because they don't provide adequate support. You would think someone who is trying to get $28 or $52 out of a comic would know that. Just about everything on the rack was really ratty from being stored there too long.
This is the kind of thing we could have done in a day trip--just pop down there and back--but I wanted to make a bit of an adventure out of it. I planned for us to take the old highways, rather than the parkway, and hit the flea markets and thrifts along the way. I also got us a totally unnecessary hotel room, because I wanted to make it an overnight trip.
Usually by this point in the summer, I've gone camping with Keith at least once. With the chemo, I'm just not up to roughing it, but I really wanted to get away with him. So, even though my old hometown is less than two hours away, I still got us a room.
Unfortunately the junking was not good.
First stop was an antique mall that I've always wanted to stop in. It was totally not my kind of place.
I even made a new friend, although I'm not quite sure if her intentions are honorable.
I also saw one of those old-timey comic book racks like they used to have in store when I was a kid. I've always wanted one! It's kind of sad to see the dilapidated older comics sagging out of it. Those are not the most practical means of long-term storage and display for comics, because they don't provide adequate support. You would think someone who is trying to get $28 or $52 out of a comic would know that. Just about everything on the rack was really ratty from being stored there too long.
I was most looking forward to hitting the Bowling Lanes Flea Market. I have fond memories of shopping there as a kid. Sadly, my memories from Saturday are not as fond. I only bought like two or three things.
The lot where the flea is used to be home to a bowling alley. All that's left now is the sign. When I was a kid, the building was still there. People used to set up all over the parking lot. There are still outdoor set-ups today, but there weren't very many on Saturday. I think it might have been the heat or forecasted storms.
There's also an indoor component, which was totally missable. Every booth was a wreck, and over half the vendors weren't even present in their spaces. It was really disappointing. As usual, at these indoor/outdoor kinds of set ups, the best shopping was found outdoors. There just wasn't much of it.
Since shopping had been so light, I decided to hit a vendor mall. Pickings were slim there too. How slim? This slim:
To be honest, I did put a couple more things in the cart right after I took this pic. Still wasn't much of a haul.
I did come across this great new idea for booth security and theft deterrent that I cannot wait to try in mine.
There were probably some bargains in this bin, but I'll never know. I'm all about the digger booth, but not when I have to bend over with my butt in the air! Ain't happening.
I did see Donna while I was there.
After this we hit a thrift that wasn't all that thrifty. We have a couple of these kinds of places in Louisville. They call themselves "upscale resale." They're very selective in what they accept for donations, so their prices are way out of line with the typical thrift experience. I did find a few things, but I don't think I'll be heading back. I give the ones in Louisville wide berth too.
After a nice drive through the country, we finally hit my old hometown. We stopped first at a local vendor mall, where again I bought very little, but I did get flashed.
Then we headed to the cemetery (more on that in a few days), and checked into the hotel. I was kind of glad I had made a reservation, as we were both pretty wiped by that point. We had a nice Mexican dinner (my favorite), then retired for the evening. I kind of overextended myself and did way too much walking. I could hardly move once I got settled in a comfy chair.
The next morning was lovely. The hotel's free breakfast included fresh pancakes, which was nice. After we enjoyed a nice leisurely breakfast, we had a long talk together in which.....
Keith proposed and I accepted!
After all these years, he's going to make an honest woman out of me! We're still working out the details. We want to do it in a state where same-sex marriage is legal, with an eye to retiring there, if the rest of DOMA is not overturned in the next few years. No matter what you may hear on the news, key components of the law are still in effect. I'll probably have more to share about all of this as it develops.
Wednesday, January 03, 2018
2017 Recap (Finds Unseen)
I know that I haven't been blogging for the last few months, but I've been intending to blog. That's something, isn't it? I've got a folder full of photos to prove it. That's right. I found the time over and over again to take pics of stuff for the blog, but not to actually put them in the blog. It's hard to be me sometimes, let me tell you. Sigh.
For the next few posts. I'm going to dump as many of those pics out as I can to at least give a snapshot of the junking for the last half of last year. That should give me a handful of quick posts and enough time to at least get the rest of the month planned out. Plus, I know everyone likes finds posts. Right?
Ready? Let's go!
Let me start with the first finds of 2018 (or at least a teaser), courtesy of the New Year's Big Flea. This was what Gran, my granny cart, looked like at the end.
Care to guess what's inside? I'll give you a hint:
It's the start of a vintage clock radio collection! I bought a couple from the guy, and he made me an offer I could not pass up on the rest. There are nine all together. That's the benefit of shopping on the last day of the Big Flea. Tomorrow, I'm pulling my Christmas out of the booths. I have a good idea about what to replace it all with.
If I remember/have time, I'll get some pics of everything else in the cart. We'll see. By the way, did you catch the helpful advice printed on one of those boxes?
Words to live by.
I found all this stuff in an alley during junk set out. It looked to me like someone had cleaned out a relative's house and bagged it all up for the junk pick up. Someone had ripped open all the bags and scattered stuff everywhere. (DON'T EVER DO THIS!) I ran home and got a bunch of bags and filled them all up with stuff. This is a pretty representative sample. Bith the Jean Nate powder and the Stanback stuff had never been opened or used. The Jean Nate made me think of this girl named Gina who sat across from me in my Trigonometry class during my junior year of high school. She was always carrying on about Jean Nate stuff and how good it made her smell. She would actually say things like: "Gee, I smell good today." Isn't it odd the memories this stuff brings back?
Most of the stuff from this find was paper goods and ephemera. There will be pics of some of it later.
When you find a cheap Thor helmet, you just gotta buy it. Then take a selfie while wearing it.
The long, shaggy, slightly disheveled look I'm rocking these days kind of fits with the viking motif, doesn't it? For Odin and Asgard!
There's an old Democratic Club down the street from us that was gutted and renovated over the course of last year. The dumpsters yielded wonderful salvage treasures like these. I love the detail work on the hinges. I found a dozen or so of them, and they've been popular items at the booth.
Sadly, I also found some awesome wooden drawers and two wonderful tables at this site. They went straight to the booth, but I did set them all up for a nicely staged photo, only to have my phone battery give out before I could take it. They all sold on the same day to the same person, so I never got a picture, but they were awesome. Two of the drawers were the old cash drawers from the bar.
In case you didn't know, a Democratic Club is a lot like a VFW or American Legion post, basically an open bar. I had the pleasure of speaking at one in the 90's, when we were trying to get LGBT anti-discrimination laws passed here in town. I learned that you don't ever go to a group to talk about anything, when they've invited you to come after the bar has been open for two hours, even if they do say they're Democrats. I actually met the then-Democrat state Senator for that district (which included my neighborhood) who told me I could shove the information I had brought "up my ass." A year or so later, he switched to the Republican Party. Again, odd memories, huh?
Does anyone know what this is? I thought it was some kind of jewelry holder, until I realized that there was nothing to keep it from sliding off. I bought it because I thought it looked cool.
Half-Price Books does this traveling clearance event in several cities every year. For the last three years, Louisville has been one of the sites. They reserve a big room at the fairgrounds and fill it with stuff. Nothing is over 2 bucks, and a bunch of stuff is less. This was my cart at the last one.
Not everything at that sale is new or recent. There plenty of vintage items, like this trivia game from the 70's. The book below might be my favorite find from that sale. I love kids books. I got it for the title--I'd never seen the word "Brimful" used before--and the Tasha Tudor art.
You gotta grab your finds where and when you find them. All this stuff was a curb find when I was on the way to the bus stop one day. I crammed it all in my booth bag and still managed to catch the bus on time! The baskets were an appreciated find. I use a lot of them for displays.
People seem to like these big family-style Bibles, so I pick them up whenever I can find them cheap.
This is an odd, little display I made in my salvage booth. Nearly everything in it was a curb find.
I think that will do it for this installment. There will be more to come. Now, if you will excuse me, I have some fresh buns in the fridge and I have to go get them out.
For the next few posts. I'm going to dump as many of those pics out as I can to at least give a snapshot of the junking for the last half of last year. That should give me a handful of quick posts and enough time to at least get the rest of the month planned out. Plus, I know everyone likes finds posts. Right?
Ready? Let's go!
Let me start with the first finds of 2018 (or at least a teaser), courtesy of the New Year's Big Flea. This was what Gran, my granny cart, looked like at the end.
Care to guess what's inside? I'll give you a hint:
It's the start of a vintage clock radio collection! I bought a couple from the guy, and he made me an offer I could not pass up on the rest. There are nine all together. That's the benefit of shopping on the last day of the Big Flea. Tomorrow, I'm pulling my Christmas out of the booths. I have a good idea about what to replace it all with.
If I remember/have time, I'll get some pics of everything else in the cart. We'll see. By the way, did you catch the helpful advice printed on one of those boxes?
Words to live by.
I found all this stuff in an alley during junk set out. It looked to me like someone had cleaned out a relative's house and bagged it all up for the junk pick up. Someone had ripped open all the bags and scattered stuff everywhere. (DON'T EVER DO THIS!) I ran home and got a bunch of bags and filled them all up with stuff. This is a pretty representative sample. Bith the Jean Nate powder and the Stanback stuff had never been opened or used. The Jean Nate made me think of this girl named Gina who sat across from me in my Trigonometry class during my junior year of high school. She was always carrying on about Jean Nate stuff and how good it made her smell. She would actually say things like: "Gee, I smell good today." Isn't it odd the memories this stuff brings back?
Most of the stuff from this find was paper goods and ephemera. There will be pics of some of it later.
When you find a cheap Thor helmet, you just gotta buy it. Then take a selfie while wearing it.
The long, shaggy, slightly disheveled look I'm rocking these days kind of fits with the viking motif, doesn't it? For Odin and Asgard!
There's an old Democratic Club down the street from us that was gutted and renovated over the course of last year. The dumpsters yielded wonderful salvage treasures like these. I love the detail work on the hinges. I found a dozen or so of them, and they've been popular items at the booth.
Sadly, I also found some awesome wooden drawers and two wonderful tables at this site. They went straight to the booth, but I did set them all up for a nicely staged photo, only to have my phone battery give out before I could take it. They all sold on the same day to the same person, so I never got a picture, but they were awesome. Two of the drawers were the old cash drawers from the bar.
In case you didn't know, a Democratic Club is a lot like a VFW or American Legion post, basically an open bar. I had the pleasure of speaking at one in the 90's, when we were trying to get LGBT anti-discrimination laws passed here in town. I learned that you don't ever go to a group to talk about anything, when they've invited you to come after the bar has been open for two hours, even if they do say they're Democrats. I actually met the then-Democrat state Senator for that district (which included my neighborhood) who told me I could shove the information I had brought "up my ass." A year or so later, he switched to the Republican Party. Again, odd memories, huh?
Does anyone know what this is? I thought it was some kind of jewelry holder, until I realized that there was nothing to keep it from sliding off. I bought it because I thought it looked cool.
Half-Price Books does this traveling clearance event in several cities every year. For the last three years, Louisville has been one of the sites. They reserve a big room at the fairgrounds and fill it with stuff. Nothing is over 2 bucks, and a bunch of stuff is less. This was my cart at the last one.
Not everything at that sale is new or recent. There plenty of vintage items, like this trivia game from the 70's. The book below might be my favorite find from that sale. I love kids books. I got it for the title--I'd never seen the word "Brimful" used before--and the Tasha Tudor art.
You gotta grab your finds where and when you find them. All this stuff was a curb find when I was on the way to the bus stop one day. I crammed it all in my booth bag and still managed to catch the bus on time! The baskets were an appreciated find. I use a lot of them for displays.
People seem to like these big family-style Bibles, so I pick them up whenever I can find them cheap.
This is an odd, little display I made in my salvage booth. Nearly everything in it was a curb find.
I think that will do it for this installment. There will be more to come. Now, if you will excuse me, I have some fresh buns in the fridge and I have to go get them out.
Tuesday, May 21, 2013
Having Fun Finding
There used to be a restaurant in town that was known as much for its kitschy decor as the food. It closed not too long ago in the midst of a labor dispute. I had mixed feelings about the place. The decor was fun. Some of the food was pretty good, if a little pricey. It wasn't one of my regular haunts, but I did go there from time to time.
One of the things the place was known for was having toys and doo dads on the tables to amuse customers while they waited for their food. Usually, it was small plastic animals, toy cars, crayons and the like. Whenever I ate there, a few of them somehow made their way into my backpack. Never quite sure how that happened, but it did.
The last couple of years the place was open, they added on a gift shop. One of the items they sold was an hourglass kind of thing filled with plastic bits. Hidden in the bits were all kinds of little toys and items. The object was to shake the hourglass and make the different objects surface. You were supposed to find as many of them as possible. This became a pretty popular table toy. If someone really got into it, they could buy one on the way out in the gift shop. Pretty clever.
Anyway, I was in Goodwill the other day and I found two of them for sale! They went home with me, of course.
Let's see what we can find!
Okay, maybe only two of my posts. but that's enough to declare a trend, isn't it?
One of the things I like about junking is discovering bits and pieces from local places that are no longer there. For some of these places, these bits and pieces are the only record they ever existed. It's cool to preserve long-ago memories. I'd never thought about this from the perspective of places that have more recently passed from the scene. Isn't life interesting like that?
One of the things the place was known for was having toys and doo dads on the tables to amuse customers while they waited for their food. Usually, it was small plastic animals, toy cars, crayons and the like. Whenever I ate there, a few of them somehow made their way into my backpack. Never quite sure how that happened, but it did.
The last couple of years the place was open, they added on a gift shop. One of the items they sold was an hourglass kind of thing filled with plastic bits. Hidden in the bits were all kinds of little toys and items. The object was to shake the hourglass and make the different objects surface. You were supposed to find as many of them as possible. This became a pretty popular table toy. If someone really got into it, they could buy one on the way out in the gift shop. Pretty clever.
Anyway, I was in Goodwill the other day and I found two of them for sale! They went home with me, of course.
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| Okay, so they're more like cylinders than hourglasses. |
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| Here's a star! |
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| A lot of the hidden objects were these little cubes with letters, etc. on them. |
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| Forgot to do the crappy cell phone pic alert, didn't I? |
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| There's a list on one end, so you can keep track of your finds. |
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| Scotty dogs are turning up in several of my posts these days. |
One of the things I like about junking is discovering bits and pieces from local places that are no longer there. For some of these places, these bits and pieces are the only record they ever existed. It's cool to preserve long-ago memories. I'd never thought about this from the perspective of places that have more recently passed from the scene. Isn't life interesting like that?
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