Estate sales are fascinating and sad at the same time. Wandering through someones home/life is surreal. Having watched my parents transition I have a whole new respect for the sale and the items within. I attach sentiment to objects and feel that objects always have a story. That respect needs to be paid silently as you tour a sale.
The wife and I attend a few a week and I always try to figure out who these people were. What made them tick. What were their hobbies and interests as well as vocation. Hobbies are obvious vocations can be obtuse. Clues are always found in the bookshelf or the valet on the dresser.
Today's sale was a silver mine of tools and equipment owned by a seasoned woodworker, photographer, genealogist, amateur geologist and tinkerer. His basement setup had good workflow and he had procured some enviable heavy iron. He also had successfully and with great care made some of his tools. A homemade 6 x 48 sander (very nice dust control), a shaper (with a washing machine motor and some sort of clutch system for speeds(?)), clamping racks, assorted jigs and a paint or finish booth of sorts. I do wish i could have met him and learned a trick or 2.
The sad portion of the (any) sale was all of the medical equipment in various rooms that told the story of the end of the couples (extensive pacific rim) travels. Also apparent was the inability to traverse the stairs to the basement where all of the pastimes and stress relieving/ rejuvenating immersion of self waited for them. My own father went from mobile to wheelchair via stroke years back and his pursuits seemed to grind to a halt. Life charges past the mortal in man.
Having said all of thisI will thank Mr Swenson for the honor of purchasing some of his tools. Hopefully he will approve of my stewardship and the money spent will aide him and his wife in their further care.
Harumpf!
Grumpydad
The wife and I attend a few a week and I always try to figure out who these people were. What made them tick. What were their hobbies and interests as well as vocation. Hobbies are obvious vocations can be obtuse. Clues are always found in the bookshelf or the valet on the dresser.
Today's sale was a silver mine of tools and equipment owned by a seasoned woodworker, photographer, genealogist, amateur geologist and tinkerer. His basement setup had good workflow and he had procured some enviable heavy iron. He also had successfully and with great care made some of his tools. A homemade 6 x 48 sander (very nice dust control), a shaper (with a washing machine motor and some sort of clutch system for speeds(?)), clamping racks, assorted jigs and a paint or finish booth of sorts. I do wish i could have met him and learned a trick or 2.
The sad portion of the (any) sale was all of the medical equipment in various rooms that told the story of the end of the couples (extensive pacific rim) travels. Also apparent was the inability to traverse the stairs to the basement where all of the pastimes and stress relieving/ rejuvenating immersion of self waited for them. My own father went from mobile to wheelchair via stroke years back and his pursuits seemed to grind to a halt. Life charges past the mortal in man.
Having said all of thisI will thank Mr Swenson for the honor of purchasing some of his tools. Hopefully he will approve of my stewardship and the money spent will aide him and his wife in their further care.
Harumpf!
Grumpydad
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