It’s that time of year when “yard sale” and “garage sale” signs are a common sight. One man’s junk is another’s treasure, and I’ve bought my share of both junk and treasure over the years. We all have knickknacks and odd items scattered in our homes, neither beautiful nor particularly useful, which guests could never guess the true value of.
My brother bought this cut-glass bowl on a pedestal at a neighbor’s garage sale when he was five or six years old. He bought, with his own money, some little trinket for each of us—Mama, Daddy, my sister, and me—even though no one told him he had to. There were many days growing up when I would have gladly sold my younger brother and sister to gypsies for a nickel. But this memento of my (sometimes) sweet baby brother currently sits on my dresser.
This tattered ship’s model of Christopher Columbus’s Santa Maria sits on the front edge of a bookshelf crammed full of books. My grandma Josie won it for having the biggest catch of the day on a deep-sea fishing excursion in Florida. I remember it holding pride of place on a shelf in her living room. As far as I know it was the only prize she ever won. She was a kind, but quiet woman, who taught me how to float on my back in the swimming pool and to plunge my face underwater without being afraid of drowning. She and her sister, my Aunt Della Mae, taught me how to play gin rummy—and let me win. There’s a scene in Death Crashes the Party where a little girl races ahead to the duck pond in Liv’s trailer park as a grandmotherly figure trails behind her, carrying a Wonder Bread bag with stale bread bits to feed the ducks. That little girl was me!
This pipe, cracked and held together with tape, belonged to my father. He gave up smoking, thankfully, many years before he passed away. But as a child, I remember him standing on our porch in the evenings, smoke rising in puffs from his pipe. The aroma of some of the tobacco varieties he smoked were intoxicating to me, with woodsy scents and notes of cherry. Someday, I plan to encase the pipe and other small mementoes of my dad’s in a shadow box for display. It’s eleven years since he died, and I still can’t bring out these items without breaking down sobbing. So, they reside in a box on a closet shelf. But whenever I need to feel close to Daddy, I tightly clutch this pipe through which his breath has passed.
At a yard sale, these family artifacts would probably fetch less than a dollar. But for me, they’re priceless.
Do you have any items in your home that are not necessarily expensive, but of great sentimental value to you? Or have you bought something at a garage sale that you’ve always wondered about the story behind it?
Chicks on the Case 
I have a collection of my grandmother’s china. Some of it she painted, some from others. It can’t be used because it’s not sealed. But I do love displaying it.
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Vickie, this is so touching. And it hits home, having just gone through my late mom’s entire condo as we cleaned it out for the new owners. For me, the most priceless items were the letter response Mom received from Lawrence Olivier when she wrote to ask if he would be recording her favorite movie, Henry V, and a very kind rejection letter from a publisher to whom she sent a “book” for consideration – at the age of ten! I had no idea she ever did this.
In terms of objects, the one thing I coveted were 4 concas of various sizes she had. Concas were copper vessels used by women to carry water in the small town of Abruzzo where Mom was born and lived until she was 3. The ones she had are decorative – one was made by a relative – but they mean a ton to me because they’re so connected to her – and by default mine – Italian heritage.
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Aw, Liz, I’m so glad you have that. The last time we moved in Tennessee, I carried my grandma’s ship on my lap — and it’s not really breakable — just special!
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This is a very timely post. I’m going through my dresser drawers trying to downsize and I’m finding a lot of stuff I just don’t need/want. But a medal from when my son placed second with his mixed-age breaststroke relay team at the championship meet? Books the kids made me for Mother’s Day when they were in kindergarten? Letters my grandmother wrote to me when I was in college? The notification I’d passed my oral and written comprehensive exams from my Master’s program? The program from my college graduation? My two dive certifications from PADI? All of that is definitely being kept.
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Those sound like keepers to me, Liz! I have some letters I exchanged with my brother when he was away working at a camp one summer. This was how I found out things were serious with his girlfriend (now wife)!
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Time to take up fishing, Vickie! Maybe the trophy will bring you luck in lake tournaments!
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I have no fishing cred, Lisa. I never baited my own hooks!
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That’s so special, El.❤️
I wish you could find that book!
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That story of your dad’s pipe brought a bit of a tear to my eye, as I feel the same way about many of the mementos of my parents that are around the house. They never really leave us, our parents, do they?
And as for garage/yard sales, I can’t resist them! No matter how many knick-knacks I have around the house (and as far as Robin’s concerned, it’s already far too many), I can’t resist picking up more.
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Leslie, holding that pipe still reduces me to tears after all these years!
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I have all my dad’s old pipes. One of my sons has dibs on them. My next door neighbor sits out back smoking his pipe and it smells like Dad is nearby.
I have plenty of treasures, but I also have a great garage sale story. Our neighbor is a music instructor and was selling a bunch of instruments. My 8yo son came home to show me what he bought. He was so excited! A beautiful etched trumpet in a case. I saw the sticker and asked, “Where’d you get $35?” Jeff said, “It was only $5.” It was a tad illegible, but it said 35. We walked across the street to return it. My neighbor wouldn’t take it back. He said, “Jeff made me an offer and I accepted it. Enjoy!” Jeff played that thing for years. We still have it and I’ll make sure it finds its way into my grandson’s hands, along with the story.
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Sounds like Jeff had a connection with that neighbor. I had a next-door neighbor who gave me a silver dollar every year for my birthday — same as he gave his grandkids.❤️
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I think any time a music teacher finds a kid interested in music they’ll move mountains for them!
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Thanks for sharing the stories behind your keepsakes. I have a small collection of beer steins that were my dad’s, who died when I was 16. I don’t think they’ll catch anyone’s interest at Antiques Roadshow, but they mean a lot to me.
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oh, J.C., Cheers to your dad!
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I don’t usually stop by garage sales.
I do have some items that would mean nothing to anyone else, however. Like the ornament my brother and sister-in-law used to announce that my niece was coming. Says “My favorite uncle” on it. I love that ornament.
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Aw, Mark, I love that ornament, too!
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Thanks for sharing your beautiful memories (and objects), Vickie. I don’t frequent many yard sales, but I do remember buying this beautiful glass bowl–my very first hospitality gift when invited over to someone’s home.
As for sentimental objects, I have too many! I have this giant carved wooden chest from my mom that I can’t bear to get rid of (even though it’s huge & heavy–and of course, filled with books that I should go through and weed out). I still have a hard time looking through her personal effects; a few years ago, I spied her handwriting and that made me misty-eyed.
On a lighter note, my dad has this penchant for giving me T-shirts (think: heavily logo’ed and mostly non-comfy), but I can’t bear to give them away!
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I have many non-comfy tees, Jen, but the logos or slogans are too great to delete from my collection. None can be converted to sleepwear, alas. Perhaps interesting dust rags, ha (good-bye swifter?).
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Lisa, well into my forties I still had a sweatshirt from my elementary school (Brookmeade Braves)! It had been decades since I could squeeze into it. Not sure what became of it!
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My husband inherited quite a number of ball caps that belonged to my dad. Jen, that carved chest sounds like a Hope chest!
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Thank you for sharing these beautiful and meaningful mementos, Vickie! I still have a lump in my throat reading about your dad’s pipe. ❤
I used to frequent garage sales (our oft-spoken refrain was that our house was “decorated in Early American Garage Sale). I have very few keepsakes, save for a few teacups that belonged to my mom. I cherish them.
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Those teacups will always find a place in your home — and in your heart, Kathy.❤️
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Vickie, I have my dad’s old pipes, too! They still smell nice, and they’re lined up on a special pipe stand on a guest closet shelf. One has a giant carved head (some ancient bearded guy). My dad used to call him “Old Charlie.” My job as a kid was to dust the whole collection on my parents’ bookshelves. I used to read the books instead. (Fortunately there is only one stand of pipes left, because I still need to dust them.)
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Most kids will never know what an old pipe smoked by their dad or granddaddy smells like. I’m glade we have that scent to hold onto.
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All of our stuff has memories attached it is letting go of some of it that is hard.
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It’s nice when we’re able to hold on to a little of it.❤️
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Both. I have so many things that mean so much to me. Everything that I have collected from others I wonder where they got it and why did someone decide to get rid of it? All of my mother’s and father’s things mean so much to me. I won’t get rid of them. I will hold on to them for as long as I can. Some are worth a lot and some not anything at all. But they are all worth it to me. I only hope that my niece and nephew will feel the same way and keep these things that connect us all. Somewhere I have a couple of miniature ships like that. My father and mother had them in the China cabinet from 1941. I think they are packed away in boxes in the basement. And those were from my parents and my husband, and I have collected so many things over the years that we have been together that are of interest to many and worth a decent amount. We hope that my heirs won’t just do garage sale or giveaways. We just sold a very vintage Leica camera of my fathers for a lot. But you have to work at it.
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My father wrote many letters to my mother during WWII before I was born. My sister had them and made me copies of one year (1944) and I love that. They tell me so much about hem at that time way before I was born. God bless them and I thank my sister for getting Staples to copy them carefully.
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