Otherways- Fiction Fanatics

Value is a very funny thing.

We love auctions and estate sales, partly because we love all the interesting and quirky things that people have collected over their lives, but also because we love a good bargain. Part of the fun of auctions is that no two people see the same thing as a ‘bargain’.

Box lots are often the most interesting.

The boxes are arranged in great long rows, interspersed with the occasional small plant stand or vacuum cleaner. You can stroll up and down the aisles before the sale starts and peek into boxes, decided what you feel like bidding on, but only a few take advantage of that.

Dishes and glassware may be jumbled up with the squares from an unfinished quilt in one box, while the next one is loaded with all the assorted screws that the builder of the family always meant to sort out, and never did. Common boxes are stuffed with things like romance novels, Tupperware, and old trophies.

My favorites, naturally enough, are the books.

Not the romance novels, although I have read my share, but the old ones. The cool old textbooks from the late 1940’s or the cooking guides from the 20’s are always great finds, but once in a while, you find something truly spectacular.

And on your worst auction days, you miss that spectacular box.

This last auction was one of those days. Nearly a hundred degrees by the thermometer in my phone, in near-liquid air, standing in direct sunlight. They’d just started on this area of box lots, and I’d already bought a ‘clean up’, where they sell all the remaining stuff between two auction folks for ‘one money’ as they put it, for the princely sum of a dollar.

I hadn’t expected the next group of stuff to have so little interest, so they had ‘cleaned it up’ to another buyer while I was distracted by my new goodies.

For the rest of the auction, I kicked myself about the box of clearly antique books that I’d missed out on. I got some more good deals, but that loss annoyed me to no end.

Loading out, though, taught me something about value.

The man that bought that load poked through it, clearly too hot to really want to haul all his winnings away. Still feeling slightly jealous, I congratulated him on his old books. His response? “Take ‘em if you want ‘em, they ain’t no use to me.”

So I did.Quickly, before he changed his mind.

Getting them home, we discovered one was a very rare SIGNED book from 1880, entitled The Masque Torn Off, by T. DeWitt Talmadge, valued at over 175.00. Two more were early 1900’s accounts of the great San Francisco earthquake, valued at more than 50.00 each. There are still about thirty books from the same era I have yet to research.

The fact is, that man couldn’t see their value.To him they were dead weight to haul in the heat, and they probably wouldn't sell at the flea market he buys for.

Failure to see something’s worth does not mean it is without value, though. An open mind, and a willingness to see possibilities are often what you need to find the spectacular deal. Yeah, auctions are a metaphor for life. Go figure.

Cheers,

Michelle