Chapter 87
10/17/2005
Ch 87 Auction-It’s not about the Stuff You Can't Go Home Again
I wasn’t actually fired after all, just a lull in sales this month. Met Luke Dovi of Dovi Motors http://www.dovimotors.com/ in Cortland and may arrange some Lincoln-Mercury deals with fringe bennies of being paid to visit Mom. Luke is buying our old Virgil home of 65 years. Old Virgil childhood friend, Tom Saltsman is also following in my footsteps driving swaps now.
I attended the auction of the contents of this home on Saturday. What an experience! I’m so glad I went. Bittersweet, you might say, but very heavy on the sweetener. On the way down, I did feel a nostalgic mistiness. But as we proceeded throughout the arduous 10:30am to 8pm sale, I’m thinking good riddance and halleluiah. But most of all it was heart warming to rekindle the proud memories of Dad, as respect and admiration was palpable everywhere from the Auctioneers to the buyers.
A sampling of overheard comments among the crowd. "I’ve heard of this guy. Look at all the neat gizmos this guy made." One stranger said your Dad musta been a genius of an engineer, where did he work? Some could not bid, Al Houck saying, “I just couldn’t bear to think I was somehow taking advantage of the situation. He was such a close friend.” Another, Leo, just wanted to have something he made as a remembrance, and shared some fond stories of long ago fishing camping trips to Quebec with the BTC company gang. Hugs from others. Reconnected with one-third of my graduating class: Darrell Moore, Sherry McGuiness, and Kay Carrier’s sister Fay (works at Mom's residence) and Butch Homer’s brother. Old basketball teammate Arnie Price was there of course, now THE Cortland County Sheriff.
The auctioneer holding up some of Dad’s handiwork saying Dale was well known for crafting these things. The endless procession of all manner of tools, the Victor muskrat traps, the stacks of cherry and black walnut lumber, the cross bow, the rope makers, the 9 foot tall band saw, the 1872 wood lathe, the Fairbanks Morris hit or miss engine for ($500), motors still factory wrapped, the 51 Willies doodlebug with electric winch on rear, log splitter front-started right up -the Lionel model trains in boxes, airplane models, Whizzer gas tanks, the honey extractor brought a chuckle, like what else did this guy do? http://www.marathonauction.com/
From the old John Deere backhoe bringing the highest bid of $5200 down to the who’ll give me $1 for the whole table full of boxes of mish mash there were thousands of items put up and all taken. It was endless stuff. Stuff, stuff, and more stuff. You had to be impressed, you had to laugh. Brought in a surprising to me total of $26,000. My sister thought I could sort and box this stuff out in one day, but it took 4 auction men sorting for 2 weeks to actually do it. To fetch a higher percent of list price it would have taken at least a week’s work per item, that’s 20 years to part out individually. Do we own stuff, or does it own us?
Up for bid were bows, slings, and arrows. And when I heard the hard rain falling on the tent over the drone of the auctioneer’s ramble of course I was reminded of (then 20 year old) Robert Zimmerman’s poem about facing the hard times, the slings and arrows of life. http://www.bobdylan.com/songs/hardrain.html
And what’ll you do now my blue-eyed young Son.
And what’ll you do now my darling young one.
Then I’ll stand on the ocean until I start sinking,
But I’ll know my song well before I start singing,
It’s a hard rain’s a-gonna fall.
I’m not sure everyone grasped my “song” reference two chapters ago. Dad’s song was made up of many many tunes and he knew them well, getting him through life just fine.
Next day I was invited to a private party and tour of a Millionaire’s classic car collection…more next chapter.
Auction Video now uploaded 11/30/07
To lose your home of 65 years may seem like a loss. There is a sadness there...But it is really a reminder of all that you had gained. The video cannot begin to convey the feeling. The flood of memories perhaps triggered by the rain that fell that night.