Even before Jerry and I married, weekend dates often consisted of driving way out into the boonies, rummaging around in antique stores and resale shops, marveling at the wonderful stuff that could be had for a mere pittance.. Running our hands over a beautiful old oak buffet or counting the prisms dangling from a magnificent chandelier, we dreamed of how these items would fit in with any home we chose to live in. Then, reality set in.
We moved into a tiny, very 1960s, very modern apartment. Every apartment in the complex had white walls and beige carpet and a tiny five foot by two foot deck that shook every time a train went by. Did I mention that this apartment abutted a very busy train yard? The beauty of it was that I could walk out the door, cross over various sets of train tracks (wearing high heels, of course) jump on the train and be on my way to work in downtown Chicago in mere minutes. After the first week or so, we didn’t even notice the coupling sounds or the horns. We were young and in love.
Our next apartment was out in the suburbs, in the village of Oak Park, llinois. Some of you may recognize Oak Park as the home of many Frank Lloyd Wright structures. This apartment building was not one of them. We lived at the top of a four story walk up where the long winter months were spent huddled below window level to stay warm and out of the winds that were coming through ill fitting windows; a tropical fish mobile hung from the living room ceiling, in constant motion.
Staying in Oak Park, we eventually bought a house, ready to start a family. First to come along was Nibbles, an adorable Wire Haired Fox Terrier that we were in love with from day one., then Jason and then Samantha. Due to the deaths of family members and living in a neighborhood where residents were constantly on the move, we acquired for our growing family an old dining room set and some miscellaneous tables and chairs. Rather than buy new stuff as needed, we opted for odd pieces that had character. Yard sales were not so common but word of mouth got around pretty fast that someone was selling old furniture inexpensively or just leaving it out for someone to pick up. If it could fit in or on top of a Volkswagen station wagon, it was ours.
By the time we had moved to Georgia, a lot of our modern , or as some like to call it, “cheap” furniture stayed in the North. The house we bought had thirteen rooms, consisting of five thousand square feet and was situated on five acres. It was also just shy of one hundred years old. There was no central heat, just a giant space heater in the front hallway. Half of the rooms had no electricity and the other half had wiring that electricians laughed at. The floors were bare wood, the walls white washed and, packs of wild dogs roamed the property. I loved it! Finally we had a proper home for our antiques.
Over the years, we acquired more old stuff and eventually we even got into the business end of antiques, in a very small way but, most items from the family, stayed in the family. Old things have stories. We have a hand made bed cover that was made by one of Jerry’s aunts while she was waiting for her boyfriend to return from the war and, the blanket chest that she kept it in. We have crocheted doilies my Aunt Louise made while watching her favorite soap operas and my mother’s Sunbeam Mixmaster from the late 30s or early 40s which I still use.
I have a slanted book shelf that Jason crafted years ago in school, and sitting on a shelf in the kitchen, a wooden watermelon slice on a dowel rod that Samantha made. These are the next generation of family “antiques.”
Antiques should make you smile. Antiques should make your hand want to touch them. Antiques bring back memories of different times and people. Antiques should make you wonder about the how and why of its existence.
What would you rather be remembered as – a cherished and loved antique or an old piece of discarded junk?
Sharon
Jerry