Browsing other people's most near and dear possessions quenched my bout of voyeurism but also left me feeling sad. Having never been to an estate sale I didn't realize that it literally meant everything is for sale. There were even pictures for sale of the people who, I can only assume, lived in the house. Who would buy those? Much of the stuff was still in closets or seemed barely taken off the wall and put on a table. These people's lives had been so exposed.
I associate estate sales with death, mainly of old people or sudden, tragic deaths. I hope when I die my family will just send my stuff to DI or Good Will and not open my house up for people to come riffle through my things. Despite my indignant rant they did have some great stuff. Here are the things I would have bought had I any money with me:
- A Cole Porter LP
- A MoTab Sings Christmas Carols LP
- An 8-Track player
- Portfolio-like books of Cezanne and Van Gogh, with prints
- A few scarves
- The July 1982 edition of National Geographic
2 comments:
And that is why I always carry money on my constitutionals... that and the fear of being arrested for vagrancy.
I SO understand what you mean about estate sales. Alesa and I have promised to never go to them anymore. There's such a creepy feeling of invasion. I would swear that the people who lived there are watching your every move. It is interesting though to get a sense of what the people were like. There's definitely a distinct feeling of love or quite the opposite in each home we've gone in for an estate sale. I'm afraid my days of "estating" are over though. I just can't shake that eeriness.
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