Heartland Treasures Unlimited

The thrill of this job makes my blood pump and my heart sing..!

These days, kids don’t want family heirlooms. Furniture, dishes and collectibles are things that everyone just assumed would be precious keepsakes for generations to come. To the young people, and by that I mean under 50, it just seems like a bunch of old stuff that you could find at a garage sale, or on the lawn at a church bazaar. Do they want an old grandfather clock? No. How about a full set of china or real silverware? Ha. What about an Abe Lincoln bust, a George Washington hatchet, or maybe a Daniel Boone lunchbox? No, nope, uh uh. 

But me? Well, I can’t resist some of these trophies. They are emblems of a life well lived. In some places, obituaries read like what I might call a résumé achevé, a full life’s history. So many of these old timers spent their whole lives within several square miles, maybe even living in the same home since birth. Newspaper coverage of their demise calls to me. I get a glimpse into their interests, their occupations and memberships, and their family members. 

Take this guy Raymond...  I see he has passed away at 96 and his obit is over 500 words long! He was a member of at least ten historical and genealogical societies (interesting..), he liked photography and antiques (yes!) and he was a collector of all kinds of things (be still my beating heart : ). His wife predeceased him, and his nearest descendants live 800 miles away. I can tell this is going to be a good project, for sure. 

Because I am an independent, I can choose where and when I work. Once I commit to a job I go right into the house and get busy. I take my time and go through things carefully. Most homes in my line of work require a meticulous, patient and knowledgeable person. I am blessed to not have allergies to dust, mildew and the like. I appreciate the smell of old homes and musty books… it is the scent of a rich history, and it fills me with a sense of belonging. 

At Ray’s house I see big, beautiful pieces of furniture, with real hardwood and true craftsmanship. But my eye goes to a wall of cabinets with glass doors. I find endless entertainment looking at all the collectibles. My hand skillfully weaves in and out, selecting the prize pieces. There’s an angel and a gold pin, an intricate folding fan and a locked metal box. All keepers. 

Boxes are probably the most enticing items. Talk about a treasure hunt! People love to stash favorite items into jewelry boxes, mint tins, tootsie roll cylinders, cocoa canisters, even metal tea containers. Sometimes the boxes themselves are the treasure, like a tiny tin box I found for fishing lures. The lettering on it kindly suggests that you “Take a Boy Fishing Today.”

Closets and bureau drawers are also a favorite. I’ve just been in the back of the wife’s closet, going through everything thoroughly. She collected purses and shoes, and she clearly liked to be prepared because I find $20 bills neatly folded into quarters in random pockets and under insoles. Who doesn’t appreciate a little stashed cash? I find I really like the smell of her Trésor perfume and I set aside a bubble bath gift set and an unopened pack of toothbrushes. I imagine this grandma is looking out for me, sharing her precious trinkets, seeing to it that I’m fresh, clean and sweet smelling, and making sure I have some mad money. Thank you, Granny, you’re an angel.

I’m about to wrap up for the day when I see the ornate handle of a letter opener. I like the look of it. Slender items such as this are great because they don’t take up much space. At first I think the shaft is scratched but then I glimpse at what looks like a heart. Now I see that with a shaky hand Ray has inscribed this memento with the words, “Evelyn be my Valentine” and the date 2/14/45. I am smitten. My heart swells. 

“Oh Ray…” I sigh.

Now I want go through his stuff methodically. It’s all very masculine: knights and knives, patriots and presidents. He seems to have been handy with his hands, and there are lots of tools. There are flags and eagles, medals and historical insignias. And lots and lots of books! I peak inside a few to find bookmarks with the distinctive bump and curl of Ray’s writing.  He has genealogical notes with family trees mapped out, and neat, hand-printed signs with his surname. Ray had an artist’s eye, but maybe not classical training. It looks like he crafted his own pocketknives. One beauty in particular fills my palm perfectly. There is a large framed art poster of a Spanish bull fighter who has speared his opponent with a gory thrust that seems quite lethal. I am looking away, wondering why my friend Ray liked this image, when I see a cereal box lined up with books inside the glass doors of yet another bookcase. The composition strikes me as funny, all the spines lined up with titles on crusaders, squires, kings, frontiersmen and one captain, Cap’n Crunch. Inside the box are a bunch of plastic kid toys and a slip of paper that reads “Gotcha!” Ray had a sense of humor it seems. Adorable. Good one, Captain.

This is a good place to stop. It has been a lot for one day. I will return tomorrow with a fresh set of eyes. Let me tell you, it’s great being your own boss, but you have to be disciplined. You need to set limits and not get overwhelmed. I have found it’s helpful to make rules for myself.  

1) Don’t worry about the big stuff. I have no use for a dining table with two leaves and twelve chairs. I may admire the rocker by the fireplace, but I don’t have a hearth or a child to rock. 

2) Take your time and locate the items that spark joy. If I find myself second guessing something, then it’s really not for me. When I feel a flutter in my chest and the flush of excitement, I know I’ve got something good. 

3) Be neat and respectful. For instance, Ray and Evelyn have a lot of stuff, but it’s all been lovingly gathered and is fairly well organized. I make the effort to nicely rearrange items when I’ve removed something. 

4) Don’t get caught.