RSS Feed (xml)Garage sales are weird animals. You invite strangers to come to your house and peruse the things you don't want. You deliberate on this, you agonize about what goes out on the lawn and then you place silent bets with yourself about which items will sell and which will not. After yesterday I've decided that I understand nothing, I have no idea how this world really works.
The day started early, we were dragging stuff outside when the first shoppers descended. Some folks are uber-efficient, they know what they are looking for and they quickly scan your lawn with their cars idling in the middle of the street. No old records? I shake my head and he's off, a smile and a nod. Others peruse everything, they seem to scoff at that great pair of shoes, the ones you were actually trying to convince yourself to keep. They grab the old broken item and they want it. THEY WANT IT! All bets are off garage sale people. I can't figure you out.
Then there's the folks who offer you small change, literally less than half a dollar for things that obviously are worth much more than that. The store purchased coffee in their hands is worth three times that and they had no problem parting with the two bucks for something they will drink and throw away but your artisian pottery isn't worth the price of a phone call. They are vicious, this brand of garage sale people, they stay the course and shame you and ultimately they will break you if for no other reason than to get them on their way. They will follow you and tell you that this is only worth so much and then when they pay you they try and stiff you again. You'll note that they drive off in a BMW and that makes you want to kick them in the shin and hope they spill that coffee on their leather seats.
And then there's the ones that are truly pleasant, the ones you know immediately that you'd love in real life. They see the value in your stuff, they fall in love with the painting or the dress and you see it in their eyes and you almost just want to give it to them, the meeting of the minds was so intense, they see why you own this and will give it a good home. You feel it and it matters. You want to hug them as they leave and momentarily your faith in humanity is restored.
Some folks fall into the middle, they are true bargain shoppers, veteran garage salers. They know what they want and how much they want to pay. They stockpile their wares on the corner of your lawn all the while asking questions. They notice M sitting at a table with her handmade sign: Lemonade and a Cookie $1.00. They see her sitting proudly with her cups and her piggy bank and they smile. They will bargain you to near death but on their way out they'll pay twice the asking price for that watery lemonade and you love them for that. And you will understand the haggling because to them this is an art and a science and you know you are only a rookie, delving into this world out of little more than desperation and some crazy need to feel like your stuff is being recycled rather than thrown away.
All in all the day was a success, what we didn't sell we gave away, we feel a thousand pounds lighter and came away with some walking around money. But the social experiment stays with me, each of these people on our lawn represented a world view, an opinion, a vote. These folks took a piece of me with them when they left and one or two even left a piece of them with us. If I was still in school I'd consider garage sales as a thesis topic, the underpinnings of our collective psyche sprawled on lawns across America, each of us ever hopeful we'll find the thing that suits us when we least expect it before returning back to our collective solitudes in search of the next best thing.
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