Garage Sale Blues

I love going to garage sales, yard sales, auctions, etc. I love it so much that if I had a job--and an income--our house would be so full of other people's junk that I'm certain my wife would invite me to pack it all up and take it with me after inviting me to move out. Oh, but she tolerates the occasional purchase such as a singing fish for the wall of my man cave or an odd toy or two for the boys. A few weeks ago I scored a sweet Kenwood home stereo system complete with a stereo receiver, 200 watt amplifier, tape deck, record player and three-way speakers--all for just $25! Bethany the Enabler agreed that this was the deal of the century despite the fact that we already owned three other stereo systems (one in the TV room, one outside on the Party Porch, and one in our living room upstairs.) She agreed to the purchase when I explained to her the "necessity" of hooking up two amps/receivers together in the living room to power the two energy-thirsty sets of speakers that I had procured second-hand over the course of this winter's gathering/hoarding season. MORE POWER! Three garage sales later, however, Bethany the Voice of Reason put her foot down when I spotted a complete 200 watt Pioneer home stereo system (minus speakers) for the low, low price of just $50. That system cost well over $1000 new I explained to her, but to new avail. "Just try to imagine the wall of sound I could generate with over 500 watts of power and three sets of speakers!" No dice. What could I do to convince my overly logical bride to let me buy this treasure? Then I saw it: a clothes dryer sat in the middle of the garage with a sign that read, "$25 works great." Our dryer had just died earlier that week, so I thought rather than spending $400 on a new one, we could buy this used one and then Bethany would be so happy that she'd gladly let me buy another stereo or three.

"Oh, no. I am NOT buying another used dryer," she declared. (Admittedly, it would have been our third since we've been married.) I knew not to push my luck any further. I decided to be grateful for the $25 superfluous stereo that was already squirreled away in my trunk and sped home as fast as humanly possible to hook it up. And when I did connect all the components together and fire up my new super-system, I discovered that it was so loud that when turned up halfway, Truman covered his ears, Bethany pleaded for me to turn it down, and Alex fled outdoors. It was GLORIOUS! If I ever get a moment to myself without the delicate ears of my family around to injure, I will attempt to crank it up even higher.

I recently rediscovered a box of my mom's old vinyl albums and another full of some once belonging to my grandparents and have been playing some of them on the "new" stereo today. A flood of very warm childhood memories came rushing back to me as I listened to Billy Joel's The Nylon Curtain, the original Star Wars soundtrack, The Police's Synchronicity, and my favorite of the day, The Charlie Daniels Band's Devil Went Down to Georgia. When Blake and I were kids/indentured servants to our mother, we listened to those records as we did chores around the house every weekend. It made the drudgery of vacuuming, dusting, and doing dishes almost enjoyable. I loved watching my mom as she danced to Wings' Speed of Sound featuring Paul McCartney, the Eagles' Hotel California, and Fleetwood Mac's Rumors. Of course, she had a lot of great records from the 70s that sadly are no where to be found. Some of my all-time favorites are long gone including Rumors and Speed of Sound. Also missing are three of the greatest comedy albums of all time by Redd Foxx, Steve Martin, and Bill Cosby that I used to sit and listen to over and over as a kid. I miss those old records, and of course I miss my mom. She never had much money, so I suppose at some particularly tight financial time in her life she must have sold those old albums at a garage sale. She probably did it to raise a few bucks for a birthday present for me or Blake. If she only knew that those old records and the memory of listening to them with my mom were all I ever needed.

From now on when I go to garage sales, I'll avoid buying stereos or clothes dryers. But if I ever stumble upon some classic vinyl, you can bet I'll take my time looking through them, and if I decide to buy two or three, I'll be sure to be respectful of the seller and the emotions wrapped up in those old records. And I'll think of my mom, too, and I'll tell her thanks for the memories.