By Joe Hobby
It’s been a couple of days, and I have finally recovered enough to write this post. That’s because I spent some time earlier this month at the World’s Longest Yard Sale.
Joe Hobby, Tribune Columnist
For those who don’t know, this piece of Americana is exactly what it says it is – a scenic stretch of rural, two-lane highway that begins in Michigan and ends 690 miles and 8,000 Dollar General stores later in Gadsden, Alabama.
Of course, there are yard sales – lots of them all along the way. So, for a picker (or hoarder, as my wife calls me), it’s nirvana – a large number of yard sales concentrated into a small area. From single-family affairs with one table in front of their trailer to dozens and dozens of tents manned by dealers in huge fields, they’re everywhere. Thousands of merchants set up along this route, selling everything known to humankind. There are clothes, old tools, old signs, toys, furniture, puppies, glassware, household supplies, car parts, boat parts, swords, guns, ammo, knives, oil cans, hubcaps, plumbing supplies, three French hens, two turtle doves, and a partridge in a pear tree. I even saw an old toilet for sale that I embarrassingly discovered was not hooked up for public use.
This year I stayed exclusively in Alabama. Why not? I figured there was enough junk (which I pronounce “jonque” with a French accent, by the way) nearby to fill up the booths I have at a local antique mall. By the way, I call it junk when I’m buying, and when I’m selling, it becomes antiques. That’s the law of the picker.
Consequently, I began my first day by driving 90 minutes to Mentone, a charming little mountain hamlet in the state’s northeast corner. At my first stop, I hit pay dirt, purchasing an old copy of Heidi, a printer’s type drawer, and a pair of wooden shutters. Then, I added four matching mid-century wooden folding chairs from a local church. The price was a bit high, but a sweet-talking lady convinced me that the money would do the Lord’s work, and as a good Methodist, I couldn’t resist.
Eventually, I began heading south, stopping at dozens of individual yard sales. Most of the time, they’re a bust, but you will find a nice item at a good price every now and again. However, you find nice people at almost every yard sale. So often, I was offered water, directions, advice, and a dose of good ol’ Southern small talk. Couple these chatty folks with my penchant to run my mouth, and it’s a wonder I’m not still out there.
By the way, so much of the stuff you see is, quite frankly, junk. I feel that many of these so-called treasures could be easily purchased at a nearby thrift store. That’s because there is a life cycle for junk. It goes like this: someone buys something at a thrift store, tries to sell it in a yard sale, and after failing, returns it to another thrift store. Then someone else will buy it, put it in their yard sale, fail, and donate it to yet another thrift store. This process will keep repeating until, eventually, one of two things will happen; 1) the item will finally end up at the landfill, where it probably belonged in the first place, or; 2) the cycle continues for years and years until the item is so old that it actually becomes valuable. Of course, the odds of that happening are about the same as Nancy Pelosi speaking at a Donald Trump rally.
But being a picker, I understand that you have to go thru a lot of chaff to get a little wheat. That’s ok with me. The thrill of the hunt is entertaining, and I have come across some relatively valuable items at low prices.
After three days, my search turned up enough rusty, old, unique stuff to keep the booths I have at an antique mall full for a month or two. And to keep my wife complaining about the condition of our basement. No matter – the search must continue. That’s the life cycle of junk.
Find more of Joe’s stories on his blog: https://mylifeasahobby.blogspot.com/?m=1. Also, follow him on Facebook at Joe Hobby Comedian- Writer.
