Pickers

In the antique business everyone knows what a picker is. A person who goes around scrounging through piles of stuff in crowded barns and backyards and basements looking for valuable treasures. They are looking for that thing that you, or Aunt Jane of Grandma put in the barn or attic twenty or fifty years ago, and forgot about. That thing that is now worth a bunch of money. And they buy it from you for, well, less that what they will sell it for. Nature of the business.

But, a lot of other people know pickers as Mike and Frank, the two dudes from Iowa who go around the country picking. And their sidekick Danielle, who makes a lot of phone calls and sets things up for them. These guys have a show on television called American Pickers. And that is what the show is all about.

They nearly picked my pockets. Or my treasures to be more exact. I’m not sure who initiates this, them or the local area, but the county where I live put out a notice on Facebook that the Pickers were interested in coming to the area and wanted anyone with valuable items to send an email to the pickers people. To cut the wheat from the chaff they included a list of things they were specifically looking for. And a list of things they did NOT want to see. After looking at the list, I realized that I had quite a bit of stuff they were looking for. Folk art, military items, old advertising items, and a scooter. They love scooters and motorcycles! So I sent an email describing my items. And waited. And waited. And waited. I have good junk!

Finally I got an email from the pickers. No, not Mike, Frank or even Danielle. Not even Mike’s brother. They wanted my phone number so we could talk more about my stuff. Oh man! I might get to be on TV! Wow! I was jumpin for joy!

Well, I waited again. And waited some more. And finally the phone rang. It wasn’t Mike, Frank, or Danielle. Not even Mike’s brother. It wasn’t even anyone from Iowa! It was some dude from New York. TV executive of some sort. Whatever. If I get on TV this dude will be my best friend forever.

He asked me several questions about my collection. He was interested in several aspects of it. But what he was really interested in was how it was gonna look on TV. Not my stuff per se, but how I had my stuff situated. He kept asking me if I was a hoarder.

I live in the suburbs. In a single family dwelling. No barn, no shed, no storage bins in the yard. The house is jammed with all this stuff, but you can maneuver around without having to follow narrow paths cut between stacks of junk piled high. Not a hoarder. A serious, and overzealous collector.

He finally said that it sounded like I had wonderful junk, but that I was much too neat for their show. They want the boys to be climbing, and digging, and shining their flashlights. And getting dusty, dirty and sweaty in locating some incredible thing. The same damn thing I have sitting on the shelf in my house. I told him I’d be happy to junk the place up. But no, it didn’t seem like it was going to work. That had to be the first time in my life that anyone had told me that I was too neat!

Oh well. Wouldn’t be the first time I was “this close” to being on TV. There was the crowd scene for the Today Show, and the last round of eliminations for Who Wants To Be A Millionaire. Maybe next time.

Television or not. I know I have some really cool stuff! And I enjoy collecting it. That’s part of my story. What’s yours? www.personalhistorywriter.com

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