Voices from the Past (Or: Doing it Old School)

Just look at what I found at an estate sale down the street this weekend for only one dollar:

From the Introduction:

This is the book on the physical problems of marriage we have all been waiting for. It had to be written; and written exactly in this way--soberly, scientifically, completely, without a scintilla of eroticism, and yet with a sustained note of high idealism. [...] In this book, then, will be found all the data bearing on the physiology and technique of sexual congress, clearly stated, without pruriency or mock modesty--in other words, scientifically. (J. Johnston Abraham, 1926.)

Ohhhhhh yes. The Joy of Sex, twenties-style. It is indeed sober and scientific, with chapter titles like "Inadequacy and Egotism of most Husbands, and Apparent Coldness of their Wives" or "Intelligent Use of Perfumes - To Stimulate Emotion and for Auto-suggestion" or "The Prostate - Influence on Spermatozoa."

It also has charts and diagrams. (Seven of which are in colour.) In other words, one of the most awesome things I have ever found at an estate sale.

Actually, I've never been to an estate sale. I'm used to garage sales, where people collect their junk, slap some masking tape price tags on it, set it out, and wait for other people to come make treasure out of their trash.

This was something entirely different.

This was a 50s-house with original owners, its entire contents up for sale due to (one can only assume) its occupant's death. A team of price-taggers had gone through, pricing items wherever they lay, and hordes of buyers simply walked through the entire house, jostling one another as they sorted through the stuff.

And stuff there was. Oh my. These people were packrats like I've never seen (this includes my dad's garage). There were poodle-shaped knitted covers for bourbon bottles. A baby grand piano. A 1940s hostess game called Sugar and Spice ("perfect for bridal showers!") where players were invited to identify 20 different spices in vials on sight alone. 8-tracks. LPs. 78s.

I, of course, was there for the books. I love used books. They've got this musty, fusty smell to them. I imagine the previous owners and wonder why they bought this particular book.

Best of all are the bookmarks.

Bookmarks tend to be the detritus of people's lives. Mine are usually Target receipts or old grocery lists. Or candy wrappers or church bulletins. They're whatever's lying around at the time.

Yesterday's gold mine also included a 1957 Amy Vanderbilt's Complete Guide to Etiquette. And, tucked in the front, ready to be used as a bookmark, was the following note:

Dearest Edna & Fulton,

Our anniversary would not seem complete without the thoughtful card you always send. Thank you again for remembering Bob and "little old me" and for the sentiments, which we know came from the heart. The pewter spoon is simply truly magnificent. The spoon will be the "piece de resistance" at every dinner we give. Bob is as delighted with it as I am. Again, thanks for the lovely gift and thoughtfulness that inspired it. God love you both - Always, Kay and Bob ******

As it was discovered in a book of etiquette, I assume that its owner would never have left a thank you note go unsent and was thus Dearest Edna and Fulton.

And I wonder about this Edna and Fulton. When did they meet Kay and Bob? Former school chums? Wartime comrades-in-arms and their brides?

Who was Edna? Obviously thoughtful - I don't send out pewter spoons, much less anniversary cards. Was she the knitter of the poodle bourbon bottle covers? Was she apparently cold, and the reason for the purchase of The Ideal Marriage? By the clothes in the closets, she had lovely taste. She was a bit smaller than I, based on the sleeve lengths. She loved parties, given the many sets of china - especially Christmas, considering the decorations for sale.

And all of this - Edna's life - her kindness, her creativity, her sexual prowess (or lack thereof?), her love of coordinated dresses and coats sets - all of this trampled on, remarked upon, pawed through, and sold (50% off on the second day of the sale).

It makes me wonder about my stuff and what will happen to it. Will someone pick through my closet someday and snicker about how many black shirts I have? Will someone discover all my unfinished craft projects and like-new sewing machine and laugh at the obvious lack of dedication? Or nod in understanding of the heady rush of beginning something new so swiftly followed by boredom and distraction?

Will a thirty-something young woman someday buy my Collected Works of Jane Austen for a dollar, discover a Target receipt - vegetarian bacon, Old Dutch chips, shampoo for colour-treated hair, kids toothpaste, coffee - and smile knowingly in recognition of a kindred spirit?

Or will she pick up The Ideal Marriage and think...

...alllll sorts of things.