Garage Sale Wisdom

There were stacks of Department 56 houses to the left of us and to the right there was an array of drinking glasses and Precious Moments figurines. Everything was tacked with a fluorescent colored price tag.

In the middle, a line of camping chairs were  set up and we sat in them, patiently waiting for customers. 

I am not sure whose idea it was to hold a garage sale but my oldest nephew took command of it. He had a debt to pay off to my sister and every member of the family dug around their homes for stuff Connor could sell. My mother seemed the most enthusiastic at donating inventory. She purged her collection of porcelain Christmas village houses, excavated her kitchen for unused wine glasses and beer glasses and rummaged through boxes for ancient toys my sister and I played with as kids. 

My sister also seemed happy for the opportunity to de-clutter. She had old clothes, the rocker our mother gave her when she was pregnant with her oldest son and the glass perfume bottle I bought her in Venice during a high school trip as consolation for the fact I broke the one our grandmother had given her as a gift. 

Me, I took the opposite approach to all of this. I added to my collection of stuff. The orange winter coat with wooden toggles, which belonged to my sister that I always had my eye on and a clay dutch oven that belonged to my mother. 

While his mother and grandmother were happy to provide the merchandise, Connor seemed to be a natural born salesman. He leapt to his feet whenever someone wondered up the driveway and eagerly worked to get people the best deal. 

He wasn't the only budding entrepreneur. At the very end of the driveway, my niece had two heaping plates of brownies and Rice Krispy treats she was selling for 50 cents a piece. Mairen made both herself although I heard there were some setbacks. Apparently, she forgot until the batter was in the oven to put the chocolate in the brownies and went a little overboard with the measurements of marshmallows and cereal in the Rice Krispy treats. She let me have a Rice Krispy treat free of charge and I must say everything turned out alright in the end. 

As the garage sale progressed, the Tupperware bin that held the profits filled up. It was a pleasant surprise to find people were attracted to stuff that had hung out in our family's home for years and years. The embroidered tablecloth my mom would pull out for every Thanksgiving dinner or birthday celebration, the Cabbage Patch kid dolls my sister and I worshipped when we were young. 

The sale wasn't just an opportunity to unload stuff but a chance to meet some fantastic people. There was a woman whose face was deeply creased with wrinkles and featured a sweet and warm toothless smile.   She didn't speak a word of English but seemed to appreciate my mother's old tablecloth. 

But no one measured up to the handy man. He didn't seem particularly interested in buying anything but bent his tall, stick thin frame down to give my niece and nephews a lecture in thriftiness and reusing what most people would probably consider trash. The man carefully pulled strips of clear packing tape off boxes my sister had brought out for paying customers to take their purchases home in and informed his audience this could be reused to secure another box. He pulled out deflated plastic packing pouches and said these could be re-inflated and resealed for more use. He happily chatted on and on and on about how people threw out perfectly good material. 

Garage sales, I decided, are a total blast. No wonder some people roll out of bed at pre-dawn hours to scour the neighborhoods for garage sale signs. Somewhere in the middle my family's sale I told my sister she should do this again. But she firmly replied, not a chance. 

While I understand her sentiment on the subject, I have to say garage sales seem to reap more than just profit. Although I found the handy man's chattiness irritating, he did offer one invaluable piece of wisdom. Strolling up to the group of us sitting in camp chairs, the handy man commented it wasn't so much the money that counted but the camaraderie. Well said.