Auction Fever

I thought I had gotten over it.  I thought it was part of my past.  I took the cure.  The desire was gone....or so I thought.

Unfortunately, I was wrong.  I still have auction fever.

It is not an awful disease.  I am able to control myself...most of the time.

It all began a long, long time ago.  My mom took me to auctions when I was a little girl.  In my hometown in Illinois, these sales were called by a notable and famous man, a real fixture in our area.  Unfortunately, I can't remember his name. But he was Swedish, as were many of the people in our county, and he talked with that wonderful lilting cadence so characteristic of that group.  His auction call was unique.  I have never heard it anywhere else.  I still remember it though it has been many years since I stood behind the crowd, looking up, standing on tiptoe to see what he was selling.

I was hooked.  

My backsliding happened today.  Andy and I were visiting a nearby town.  We were going to yard sales, seeing what we might be able to find.  We chanced upon the first minutes of a wonderful one and bought quite a few things to take home.  Bargains we couldn't resist.

We had looked in the local paper and saw that an auction was almost ready to start a few blocks over.  When we arrived the crowd was thin, just a few stragglers, looking with interest at a car, some women rummaging around, looking at the pots and pans and dishes.  We almost left but then realized there was much, much more beyond the few items set out in the front yard.  The entire back yard and garage were full.  I could feel that urge.  The call of the hunt.  Then auction fever took hold of me.

I fought it for awhile.  I stepped back and watched the crew setting up and arranging last minute findings.  A box here, a piece of furniture there.

I rummaged around in a pile of books.  I could almost reconstruct this person's life.  I didn't know them, but I could tell just how talented they were.  Among the piles in the garage were well-worn tools, ancient items I had not seen in years.  Memories flooded in.

I was mesmerized.  I walked in a trance from table to table laden with quilt fabric, two quilting frames, piles of blankets, boxes of this and that. Papers, family pictures, toys left over from long-grown grandchildren, furniture...desks and chairs and sofas, a piano, a rug, two rugs, a whole pile of rugs.  On and on I walked, searching for a reason to stay.

There were many hidden treasures there on those tables.  I just knew it.  But we had an appointment.  We needed to get on the road.

As I walked back to the car, I was very briefly aware of a whisper in my ear.  I could almost hear that long ago Swedish auctioneer calling the sale.  The excitement of finding a desirable antique lurking somewhere in the bottom of a box, the satisfaction of being the winning bidder, the anticipation of carrying my finds home, like a warrior returning from the hunt.  Oh, glorious day.

Yes, auction fever has returned.  And, really, it's not that bad.