Estate Sale

[Kentucky Colonel]

Note: This post is not your standard fare, but seemed it might be of interest to some of you... 
It is not about black powder or hunting directly. But, it is about tools.

I picked up an ear infection and I could not ignore it anymore. 
So, after going to the Doctor today, I had time to kill while the prescription 
was filled. I saw a hand written sign: 

ESTATE SALE
10:00 - 3:00

Estate sales are kind of a downer in general and I never have had any luck. 
But, I had time and I fantasized about finding a nice, unexpected front stuffer.  
Why not? Apparently, I am the only person in the states to never stumble 
on Kit Carson's long lost rifle, George Washington's favorite pistol, or John 
Paul Jones' spare powder flask at a yard sale. I was due, wasn't I?

I got there and for once, things weren't picked over. I thought to myself, "Here's 
a fella I probably would have liked." There were useful, practical, old hand and power 
tools and tool boxes everywhere. He dabbled in a little of everything. 

As I picked through the items, I listened to a brother and sister squabble with each 
other as sometimes happens in the stress of such transitions in a family. "Its tough, 
these times," I thought, and made a strategic interruption. 

"I am sorry for your loss," I said. "Oh, Dad's not gone. He's here. He just can't do 
anything anymore and he's moving in with us." The interruption was enough to calm the 
argument. These were nice people. I bought an old angle grinder and a very old table grinder. 
I felt the price was a little high for the condition and circumstance, but I had immediate use for 
both and the table grinder was classic. I put them in the truck and went inside the house.

I saw a quiet old man tucked against a wall. He surveyed the people walking through his house 
with an odd regard from his wheel chair. They all sort of pretended he was not there. I felt for the man. 
So, I reached out my hand and told him told him that I was "glad to meet the man who worked with 
all those tools." I also told him that I thought he might like to know that I had picked up a couple of 
them and they were going to my garage "where they would go on building things." He smiled at that, 
nodded in encouragement and began to speak. 

"Just don't get old, he said. It was clear that he was grateful for a sympathetic ear and I realized that 
I needed to stop, be patient, and just listen. He went on to tell me, "I am 89 years old. I lost my wife 5 
months ago. Now, I'm trying to get used to this new thing. Its hard," he said, "[font=Helvetica Neue, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif]... to watch it all go. [/font]
[font=Helvetica Neue, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif]This has been my life... But, I can't use any of it anymore... Just don't get old." I grinned and told him I'd do [/font]
[font=Helvetica Neue, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif]my best and let [/font]him talk as long as he seemed to want to before returning to look at the stuff in the 
yard I had missed the first time. 

I found a couple more things, paid for them. Then I found a rail road track anvil! I paid for that. The prices were 
much better. I got the anvil for 5 dollars. I found a full set of Stanley wood chisels! They were rusty, but I knew 
what I was looking at. I paid for them: 6 dollars. Then I found two old wooden boxes that I felt would look really 
nice cleaned up. But, they were filled with tools and assorted cool stuff. I told the son I was 
interested just in the boxes, but "I do not know if you wanted to dump all the stuff out." 

He said, "What do you offer?" I tried to squint through the dirt that obscured the value of the boxes and said, 
"That's a nice box. I'll go 10 for the bigger one and 5 for the smaller one, if you are willing." He said, 
"Sold. Take them." 

I nodded and asked, "Where do you want me to put the contents?" He said, "Take it. Its all yours," I blinked hard. 
"Mine? ... But... we don't even know everything that's in there." Craftsman, Stanley... good stuff was there. I knew 
that from my quick glance before. I looked at him searchingly. He nodded, grinned and said, "It doesn't matter. Its all 
yours."

I am a little groggy because of the ear/sinus infection so I did not realize what was going on until I was on the way home. 
I had showed a little respect to a old fella during a tough time and he and/or his son noticed.  They decided those tools 
needed to go home with me. That is why the price dropped and kept dropping. I got some nice stuff. I guess it pays 
to be kind.

I have tools soaking in molasses as we speak and... I do not intend to get old.

 

[Jotjackson1]

Thank you for spending some time with the owner of the tools. God blessed you twice on that stop, he continues to work in mysterious ways.

 

[Buck Conner1]

Bastard ... you took advantage of some old boy and his kids KC, freekin' Colonel .... ale:   :x  

 

[BrownBear]

I had showed a little respect to a old fella during a tough time and he and/or his son noticed.  They decided those tools 
needed to go home with me. That is why the price dropped and kept dropping. I got some nice stuff. I guess it pays 
to be kind.

You paid in a currency more valuable that cash: Respect and interest.

Had a similar experience at a yard sale about 30 years back. I stopped to check for sporting stuff, but didn't see anything I wanted. Old guy sitting there and I started talking to him. He was just a friend of the family hosting the sale, and he invited me into the chair beside him and poured me a cup. We talked for over an hour. He asked me about local hunting and I told him a little, then started quizzing him about his own hunting experiences.  You should have seen his eyes sparkle as he sat straighter and straighter in his chair and talked faster and we laughed a lot. And boy, did he have some Western hunting history, hitting most of the states for game big and small over the last 60 years.

Hosts of the garage sale said they needed to close up, so I got up to leave but the old guy invited me to his own house next door.  "I have a gun I should sell. My kids don't hunt and they don't want me telling any stories to my own grandkids."  I felt sick hearing that from such a great guy. He'd moved in with his daughter and family to live his last years a couple of thousand miles from his old stomping grounds.

At his home he dragged out a rifle case and opened it up.  I was staring at a nearly cherry Savage 99 in 284 topped with an early Weaver K4 scope, the package he bought new the first year Savage produced the 99 in 284. I told him he couldn't sell family heritage like that and he said it needed to go to a hunter who would appreciate it.  I asked him how much and he wouldn't take a cent more than $150 and the promise I'd come back and visit. Felt guilty taking it, but I think it would have caused him pain to keep it and pass it along to folks who couldn't care less.  We talked another hour before I left with the rifle. Couple of hours later he showed up at my front door.  I figured he'd changed his mind.

Nope.  He said he forgot some stuff and handed me a big heavy box.  There were 23 boxes of factory ammo, Zeiss binoculars he had "borrowed" from a dead man in WWII Germany and a bunch of other stuff. We spent another couple hours over coffee and a small glass apiece of bourbon and branch.

Guy turned into a best friend, and I visited him a couple of times a week for the next year til he died. Sure lost a good friend when he passed, but I'm proud to own and use his cherished rifle.

 

[Roaddog]

Thoughs stories put a lump in my throte.Thank for sharing them with us.You two are verry very good men. :Hand shake: :Red tup:

 

[patocazador]

" I was staring at a nearly cherry Savage 99 in 284 topped with an early Weaver K4 scope, the package he bought new the first year Savage produced the 99 in 284."


Good things happen to good people. 

That 99 in .284 is pretty rare. Savage only made one run of them. The LGS has one for sale for $850.

 

[BrownBear]

Yeah they can be found, but the others are not Frank's rifle. Our son-in-law, daughter and granddaughter know it as Frank's rifle, and in fact our daughter shot her first deer with it.

One of my proudest moments and certainly so for Frank was when we took the deer and rifle by to show it to Frank, by then in a wheelchair and sucking on an oxygen bottle. Got a picture of him, my 14 YOA daughter, the deer and Frank's rifle.  Priceless.

No dollar signs on Frank's rifle at all. It's staying in the family. Granddaughter hasn't been bit by hunting in spite of liking to shoot. She's an ace with Frank's rifle, and sezz if she ever decides to hunt deer, it will be with Frank's rifle.  I'm betting her kids and grandkids will know Frank's rifle and the stories behind it, hunters or not.

That's heritage. Sure wish old Frank was still around to know about it all, even if he'd be over 100 now. Here's hoping he knows about it anyway and has all the more reasons to enjoy heaven.

 

[Kentucky Colonel]

Yeah they can be found, but the others are not Frank's rifle. Our son-in-law, daughter and granddaughter know it as Frank's rifle, and in fact our daughter shot her first deer with it.

One of my proudest moments and certainly so for Frank was when we took the deer and rifle by to show it to Frank, by then in a wheelchair and sucking on an oxygen bottle. Got a picture of him, my 14 YOA daughter, the deer and Frank's rifle.  Priceless.

No dollar signs on Frank's rifle at all. It's staying in the family. Granddaughter hasn't been bit by hunting in spite of liking to shoot. She's an ace with Frank's rifle, and sezz if she ever decides to hunt deer, it will be with Frank's rifle.  I'm betting her kids and grandkids will know Frank's rifle and the stories behind it, hunters or not.

That's heritage. Sure wish old Frank was still around to know about it all, even if he'd be over 100 now. Here's hoping he knows about it anyway and has all the more reasons to enjoy heaven.

Amen.