My husband, Greg, and I like wandering through antiques stores, flea markets, and thrift shops because you never know what you’ll find, and I’m a glutton for punishment with inhaling dust. Sometimes the very things that appeal to me would be completely overlooked by just about everyone. For example, I snagged a James Dean three inch “punk attitude” figure for six bucks. (Yes, you read that right… six bucks. Six bucks Greg says I’ll never have again.) It now stands on what he calls the Goodwill shelf, which is rife with trolls, Peanuts characters, and the occasional Wonder Woman vs. Batman fight scene.
There are times, though, when an object jumps out and flicks a dart into my heart. I recently saw dishes that were my grandmother’s everyday pattern, and a tin doll house similar to the one my dad surprised me with when I was five and the world was still wonderful. I don’t buy those items, partly because I couldn’t stand to relive the grief of loss, but more importantly, my life is way more simple now than in the past. Honestly, where would I put a tin doll house without the expectation of tripping, falling on it and severing my carotid artery?
I love treasure hunting, and will continue to poke, dig, trip over, and rejoice in finding somebody else’s treasures, and their memories. But I love it most when I find something that has nothing to do with me, but evokes that tickling feeling of joy within my soul. Yes, like the punk James Dean who is currently cuddling up to the purple-haired troll on my Goodwill shelf. Hey, long may they troll…
Photo (c) 2016 V. Galfo