Living History Antiques

I’m nervous and my tummy hurts.  It’s a big day.  Off we go, in a caravan, to move into the store.  I’ve chosen the name, Living History Antiques, thinking that antiques aren’t just dusty old things from the past.  They are the staples of history, and make times past come alive.  The first thing going into the store will be the sign that bears the name.

When I arrive, the cameras start clicking.  Paparazzi?  No, my kids.  They want to record it all for our history.  We go into mall and find the owner.  She’s glad to see us and shows me the booth.  Eighty square feet of emptiness.  With green walls.

Very friendly, very welcoming.  There are tools in the storeroom for you to use, and water in the kitchen to stay hydrated.  And if you need anything just ask me or the man at the desk.  I feel good about this.

As I’m walking around with her, I’m looking at the other booths.  Wow.  Nice stuff.  Nicely decorated.  I wonder to myself, does my stuff match up?  Do I have enough?  Can I put together a booth that looks good and will attract buyers?  Sure hope so.  I’m really committed now.

She shows me where to park the cars to unload easily.  I’m only a few steps from the door.  We move the cars and start unloading.   Cameras still clicking.  First the sign.  Then a rug.  Then the display pieces.  Now boxes and loose items.  Wait, wait!  I’m not ready for that one.  That other thing has to go first!

I’m a little tense, giving directions to my kids.  And it’s hot.  The mall is crowded with shoppers and I’m trying to move boxes and furniture and set things up.  I’m wondering what customers are thinking.  Hoping someone will actually buy something while I’m there.  Almost.  But his wife didn’t like it.  There are people circling, like vultures waiting for me to finish and leave so they can get a good look.  Several stop to look, and talk.  It’s fun.

I’m soaked with sweat.  I’ve worn my special shirt, my junkin shirt, and its heavy with sweat.  There is a big exhaust fan running outside by my truck so I go out to get a breather, and to get cooled by the breeze.  The shirt wasn’t going to dry anytime soon.  Maybe I should have worn some shirt made of high tech fast dry material, but the junkin shirt is special.  Came from a thrift store and reminds me of the ‘70s.  Always wear it when junkin.

Three hours later, everything is in place.  My oldest daughter has arranged every item just so.  My younger one has helped with banging nails and turning screws to hang the pictures and things.  She’s a little too dainty with the hammer for my taste, but we got it done.  They work together well, and that brings joy to my heart.  The whole family is full on behind me in this endeavor.  That is priceless.

The girls have a surprise.  There will be a ribbon cutting.  With pictures of course.  There is the ribbon.  Here are the scissors.  Smile!  And we are in business.  I take one last look, offer the store my best wishes and walk away.  It looks fantastic!  Bring on the customers!

Just for fun we went to another mall to look around.  I’m checking out the competition.  I’m relieved, and buoyed by seeing that my pricing is competitive.  My wares are of good quality.  And best of all, I’ve chosen the right mall to be in.

And so, next week I’ll be back to check on the store and to put out more inventory.  That is a process that will never end.  And I’ll be sharing stories and pictures.  Come on over and pick up something that means something to your history!  https://personalhistorywriter.wordpress.com/living-history-antiques/

That’s part of my story.   What’s yours?   www.personalhistorywriter.com

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