In the clatter and rattle of a church white elephant sale, in a wood floored, high ceiling auditorium, there is a large audience of sight seers and bargain hunters, a few antique collectors and nostalgia hunters intermingling in and around the sale tables. The most desirable articles of the fundraising sale are scooped up quickly, and there are those regulars who have inside knowledge about how to out play the newcomers to the church hall, and hence, they are already at the check-out table before most others have arrived at the first table. We were usually of the "newcomer" clientele, and we have always arrived fashionably late, and never looking or acting like antique dealers. People get put-off by those who are attending these charitable events, because they traditionally push their way through those who have been patiently waiting their turn to see items, simply because they believe their profession and the money they have wadded up in their pockets, should give them preferential treatment. It's true and I've seen it played out many times, which is the single reason our family doesn't mention anything about our ambitions to find that day's holy grail, or what we prefer in the way of collectables. We don't push our way into any second hand shop, or flea market, and at garage and estate sales, it is tradition to keep our cards close to our chests, just in case we're outed by someone with a dislike for those who profit from experience. Much as if we shouldn't attend at all, because we might find something or other worth a hundred times the asking price, and therefore I suppose, rip off the particular vendor. Which in the case of the story above, would mean taking money unfairly from the church. By the way, we always offer a donation to charitable bodies putting on these events, and we never make offers on items we are interested in purchasing. Just so you know, in case you see us having fun at one of these interesting community fundraisers.
As we do practice tardiness when it comes to attending these fundraiser events, in particular, we do in fact, give ourselves several key advantages. First being, we don't like crowds. It is a family thing, you see, because we have enough stress in our antique and vintage music shop every day, and don't need it while out yard sale-hopping on Saturday mornings. We like to make it a social outing versus a race from sale to sale, trying to out perform those who firmly believe that the early bird, as they say, gets the worm. Sure, it's true we do miss some exceptionally interesting pieces by turning up late for sales, but it is our experience that "the best is left until last," and we have a lot of corroborating evidence over many decades of antique purchasing. We make a point of chatting with sale vendors, and it's surprising what casual conversation can inspire if one can make time for social intercourse. We often discover that a sale host has a few antiques and musical instruments still in the house or barn that weren't put out for that day's sale, that can be offered for sale. A pretty calm affair wouldn't you say, and none of this involves steady nerves and breakneck speeds to get from sale to sale.
In the concluding moments of the church sale, as I began this editorial piece, it is more than typical to find that amidst the rejected wares of the charity offering, there will always be a few items with history that we find more than a little on the endearing side. We call them our rescue missions, and it can very often involve the acquisition of vintage toys, garments, and especially antique dolls that have obvious damage, including missing limbs, injury to the surface features, ripped and soiled outfits. The century old doll in Suzanne's photograph above was given to us recently from the leftovers of a house clean-out, inspired as you might imagine, by the sale of the wonderful old house. The doll had a severed hand, that has since been repaired, and the thin covering of material on its face we cracked and missing entirely in places. We could repair some of these issues, and repaint some of the facial expressions and color that had worn off because of many wonderful hours of play and imaginary scenarios of family rearing. When it was offered to us it was most likely, thereafter, headed for the garbage bin, and there was no way Suzanne was going to let this happen. We keep lots of vintage baby clothing on hand for these kind of situations, so that we can, as much as possible, bring the play-worn piece back to relevance as, what we call, a witness antique. Meaning, of course, that this doll, and the others we bring home in poor overall condition, have witnessed so much history in their social / cultural interaction with children of the ages, that they take on a near iconic status, as they become newly attached to all the other witness dolls we have gathered from sale left overs, and pulled from dumpsters at estate clear-outs, because of the stories they represent; even if they aren't particularly good story tellers of their own accord. But if they could.......what a tale they would spin about the life of a child a hundred years ago.
It has always been our joint opinion, as working cultural historians and antique folk, that these wonderful old witness dolls, absorb the emotions of the child possessors. Think back to your own childhood, and how many times you sought refuge and solace amongst the plush toys, collectable figures, and dolls, when, for example, you found yourself in a pickle with your parents; seeking out those old reliable inanimate but personable friends that made your rooms so friendly and generally inspiring especially when the chips were down. We can look at these worn-out old dolls literally on their last leg before the dumpster, and feel the aura of those days when a child embraced them for the security and trust they represented during whatever conflict prevailed in the household; or on the other hand, what joy and celebration these broken old toys had once been absorbed. Christmases. Oh so many Christmas Eves, when the old standby dolls and toys calmed the excitement of Santa's imminent arrival, inspiring a long winter's nap. And then there was the Christmas morning when that charming doll arrived beneath that sparkling evergreen in the living room, to commence, in earnest, a long and cherished relationship. Until, well, there was a parting of the ways, and sometimes accidentally, and by circumstances beyond the former owner's control. We hear about this all the time, when someone views one of Suzanne's other vintage dolls she keeps in the shop. But dolls, like the one above, received this week by the way, are never sold off, because of the damage and the fact that to most collectors today, they are undesirable unless they are pristine. We prefer dolls that show visible wear and that have obviously been seriously enjoyed and cuddled for contenting comfort.
So we have revealed a secret about ourselves as collectors and dealers. We have a serious inability to leave an old and damaged doll unsold, whenever we attend a community fundraising sale. There is no way we can resist what we have come to know by family tradition, as our "toy rescue" missions. Here at Birch Hollow we have a large residency of such rescued play-things from a bygone era, that we could not leave at the risk they would be unceremoniously dumped into a bin at the sale's conclusion. If it couldn't be sold, and no one made any kind of offer during the hours of the sale, then all hope is gone it might still find a sympathetic soul with a penchant for salvaging old stuff slightly haunted. But in a good way.
Suzanne and I, and the boys to some degree, have heightened sensitivities when it comes to old toys and related keepsakes, and of this we make no apologies. We can often see some potential in these damaged articles, especially vintage and antique toys, that over-ride what ever condition they happen to be in, at the time we cross paths. It might be a badly damaged Lionel train set, that will only ever serve as a decoration in the present and future tense, meaning that it can not be repaired enough to work on its electric track, but can shine brilliantly on a special shelf of old toys, that serves to inspire the collectors of such items; who possibly can't afford to purchase an antique train set in pristine condition. We have hundreds of old train pieces on display in our family room because they inspire us all of such wonderful childhood excitements. They don't need to work to inspires us, and give us calm comforts even on Christmas mornings when we recall all the celebrations they were part of in their heyday, running and sparking along their silver tracks, round and round the decorated tree Santa touched the night before.
The retail value of these antiques. Nothing. They are not mint or pristine, and they show the wear of play as proudly as any inanimate object can, but folks, the joy they can bring to the nostalgic soul, is worth a fortune in happiness. We enjoy fond memories, and we most definitely celebrate the fact we have saved so many amazing relics of former-playtime, and given them a credibility and respectability, even if it is all a matter of personal choice and jaded opinion, about what this historical witness stuff means anyway. But rest assured, that many dolls like the damaged one shown above today, will have a home for many years to come, and in the end, when we too become too antiquated to remain here at Birch Hollow, they will be passed on to other stewards we know, so their legacy will continue in other charitable, loving homes.
The lemon lilies photographed here in this post are from our garden here at Birch Hollow.
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