Poop or get off the pot! That’s what they told me. Well, they may have used some other words, but the gist of the statement was to make up my mind and do something. One way or the other. Quit dilly-dallying!
Over the years I’ve often thought of opening an antique shop. Real moneymaker, eh? It’s just that I love all those old things. Maybe not all of them, but a lot. Everyone likes what they like, and maybe I like more old stuff than other people do. When I was young my parents would take me to old dusty places filled with lots of old junk. At least that’s what I thought until I found “it.”
We were in a place in New Jersey. Oh, what was its name? Pinskey’s? Probably closed by now. The man that ran it was ancient those many years ago. Sprawling. Dusty. Jam-packed. But I found it. That old bugle. Nice patina. It had a dent on the bell. But it had a mouthpiece and it tasted like old metal when I blew it. A horrible sound.
The old man came around and said to me that the bugle was the very one that Teddy Roosevelt carried up San Juan Hill during his famous charge. Oh, what a story, what provenance! Had to have it. I think it cost twelve bucks back then. My dad knew the story wasn’t true, but he saw the look in my eye and bought it for me. Today it hangs by a golden lanyard inside a wooden frame lined with blue velvet. History!
So now I want to open this store. Filled with all the stuff I like. But it’s a scary move. High risk. Not such high reward. Other than that I control my destiny that way. Yeah. That’s valuable. Beyond belief.
I’ve done some research on opening a stand-alone store. And on running an antique mall. And on just having a booth in a mall. I’ll start with the booth in the mall. But the stuff, what will I sell? Those old antiques are expensive and I don’t really have a nest egg to begin with. I’ll just wait some more. Boy it sure would be nice to do this. I’ll just wait. Man, it would sure be nice to do this. You get the picture.
Then one day I got off work early and decided I’d go to an antiques store nearby. I walk in the door and bam, there “it” is. No, not the bugle. Something else I had to have. And then there was something else, and another thing. Before I knew it, I’d bought a whole bunch of stuff! I said to myself, “self, time to jump into the game!”
I don’t have the store yet, but I know which mall I’ll be in. I can picture the booth, filled with my stuff. I see dollar signs. I keep buying stuff. Every weekend, yard sales. Craigslist. Ebay. I’ll be selling everywhere. It’s really happening.
At yard sales I look and buy. I see what others are buying. Dang, why didn’t I buy that? Oh yeah, I don’t care for that kind of thing. I’m still learning what’s hot, tempered by what I like, and what stuff is worth. That’s a scary part, but I’m in. My biggest problem right now is where to keep all this stuff until I have a store to put it in. My wife says, “Why don’t you wait.” I’m in now. Coming up my problem is going to be this: sell it? What do you mean sell it? I can’t part with any of this stuff; it’s all so cool!
I’ll enjoy the hunt and the purchase. I’ll treasure each item for a while, and then pass it along for other s to enjoy. I’m sure I’ll keep some things for a long time.
That’s part of my story. What’s yours? www.personalhistorywriter.com