Fifty. Fifty. Going once…
Have you heard the tongue-rolling trill of an auctioneer? It’s an amazing thing to watch. Seemingly with no concentration he can spout off the name and price of an item in less than a second. If he is really good you can still understand him after he has yodeled prices back and forth and back again to bidders for hours. And the lower his voice, the more mysterious the auction becomes. You raise your hand in a sly, subtle wave hidden from the competition. Once you get caught up in the longing rhythm of anticipation, buying items from a sales clerk is oh… yawn… so… mundane. Each item grows more intriguing because the best is held for last.
My first auction bid was for an old dairy milk can. It was beautiful. The bids opened at $5 and I ended up hauling it back from Malad in the back seat for only $30. The worn red numbers “S60” on the side were indisputably handwritten by an Idaho farmer. I saw it lined up among truck parts, gas pumps, antique chairs, cast iron pans, kitten knick-knacks, used jewelry, bottles of buttons, and vintage Coke bottles. There was a Brownie camera and a mother of pearl inlayed concertina too. My husband was a child prodigy accordion player so that was especially interesting. We hung around until it was up for bid, but after two people jacked the price above what was in my wallet we left thrilled with our milk can and wash tub full of various farm implements.
Take a look on the JCU website for the online classified ads. It’s just about as good as being there except the trill is… Gone.
No comments:
Post a Comment