When my mother died, we had an estate sale. At first, I was very sad about selling off her belongings.
But after having some time to process it - and taking in how I have felt when I purchased things at an estate sale – I felt better…finding comfort in my own experience of buying treasures from the dearly departed.
I think people like estate sales because not only can they can find treasures at a great price, they also know these "treasures" have some history. I have shopped estate sales for years and this is a story about a sale I attended about eight years ago.
This particular estate belonged to a woman who was no longer able to live by herself, so her family was moving her to an assisted living apartment. Her one bedroom apartment would not hold a lifetime of collecting... and her three bedroom, 2-bath house would soon be listed for sale. They had packed up the things that she wanted and needed - the rest was to be sold. I stopped by the sale on a Saturday - it was packed full of people and possessions. I could tell by the items that she was a widow, elderly, and that she had lived a long, interesting life. She liked to read and listen to music. She loved the holidays and old traditions that many folks don't seem to take the time for or appreciate these days. She must have liked to sew - there was a lot of fabric, as I recall. I bought some books and some holiday votive candles... and I admired an old, worn-out rocking chair in the garage. The chair had seen better days - it had a broken spine peg, the seat - once made of rattan - was completely gone, and one of the legs of the chair had been patched with a big, clunky hunk of metal. Still, with all of these battle wounds, the chair was listed for sale at $60.00. The wood was nice and there was some ornate carving in the headrest of the chair. I looked it over and gave it a push to see how she rocked. I stepped back to admire it once more before coming to the decision that it was simply more than I could afford. I took the books and the holiday candles to the cheerful woman at the cash box table. I paid for my new treasures and I left.
I could not stop thinking about that chair.
The following morning, I woke up and made some coffee... it was not long before that rocking chair came drifting back into my thoughts. How silly to spend so much mental power on a broken down rocking chair!
It was early, but I decided to drive to town and see if that chair was still there - on Sundays, everything is 50%... and $30.00 was more in my price range. If the chair was there, I would buy it... and if it wasn't - then it was not to be mine. I made this mental agreement with myself as I drove to town.
I arrived at the sale and worked my way through the house to the attached garage. Much to my delight, there in the corner sat the rocking chair! I rushed over and picked it up, carried it to the table to pay for it and realized I didn't have any cash - I would have to write a check. The woman at the cash box table told me to write the check to "The Estate of Emma Mason" - which I did. While I wrote the check, the cheerful woman shared the story about the woman who once owned the chair; the woman who had grown too old to live alone in her home and was living at a senior living center. I took in her story as I carefully loaded my new rocking chair into my car and took it home. I was thrilled! When I arrived home, my husband did not share in the enthusiasm of my new purchase.
“It's in pretty rough shape," he said, looking doubtful.
I took offense to his comment.
Noticing my frustration, he offered "but the wood is pretty nice" - trying to smooth over his initial insult.
That week, I bought some Murphy's wood/furniture soap, some wood stain, and some brushes. The following weekend, I went to work - giving new life to a well deserving rocking chair. I fashioned a cushion with some fabric and a chair pad... and in no time at all, the chair looked as good as new.
Well, almost.
The spine was still broken and the thick, metal bracket “band-aid” was still in place - but other than that, it was a huge improvement. I couldn't help but wonder, as I worked on the chair ... "if this old rocker could talk what stories would it have to share?” – And that is when I decided to write to Ms. Mason. I had taken a "before and after" picture of the chair - so I included a copy of the photographs and asked her if she would mind sharing the "story" of the chair with me. I even included a self-addressed stamped envelope.
Weeks passed and I did not receive a response.
Then one day - when I had all but forgotten about my letter to her, I was surprised to see my hand-written, self-addressed envelope in my mailbox, with a return address from Mrs. Emma Mason - I didn't wait to get home.... I opened the envelope to read what she had written to me right there at the mailbox. Her handwriting was shaky, but lovely. She thanked me for my letter and for the pictures, commenting on how nice the chair looked after I "fixed" it... she went on to tell me that the chair had come from her late husband's family, as early as 1910 - when they traveled way out west to Washington state. It had rocked many sleeping babies, sick children, and much later... one old woman. She was glad that it had a good home and in closing, she added that she hoped I enjoyed the chair for a good, long time. And I have.
That old rocking chair is still in my living room - and I cherish it now more than I did the first time I saw it in a garage at an estate sale... it has a story, a history, and while the stories aren't mine - I appreciate them and cherish the chair just the same. I still have her letter. It, too, is precious to me. We exchanged letters a few more times - a thank you card to her for her initial response - and we exchanged Christmas cards that following winter, as well. Sadly, my Christmas card to her that next year came back to me - Mrs. Mason had passed away.
I have found some comfort in knowing that my Mom's things found new homes where they will be used, appreciated, and cherished as well... maybe someday I will get a letter from someone asking for the "story" behind the item they so happily purchased at an estate sale. Maybe they knew Mom personally and wanted 'something to remember her by’...
I have come to the decision that I am now the keeper of Mrs. Mason's rocking chair - it was a part of her history, but it is now my honor to own this precious piece of her life. My only regret is that I never had the chance to meet her in person; I bet Mrs. Mason was a great lady. She sure put a lot of miles on that rocking chair... and perhaps someday, if I am fortunate enough to have a few grandchildren of my own - I can add some miles on that rocking chair, myself.
*Out of respect, the fictitious name “Emma Mason” was used to protect the identity of the individual.
