A Transgression

A simple life.....a less cluttered life...a more self sufficient life.  Although my aim is to live all three, there are subtle differences in each description.

As part of living a more self sufficient life, we abandoned our lawn service.  I figured mowing was good exercise and would save us the money we threw at the lawn guys on a monthly basis.  Initially, to lessen our impact on the environment, we ordered an old fashioned reel mower.  No emissions, plenty of exercise.  Awesome. When it arrived, Andrea tried it out first.  I watched.

In about 10 minutes, it was obvious that some things don't work out as planned.  Our southern lawns are coarse.  Our grass isn't the fine bladed, cool and soft-on-the-toes stuff we grew up with in the north but rather a mat of running roots and tough green stems.  Our soil is well....sand.  Soft sand.  The idea of effortlessly trotting from one side of the yard to the other using a human powered lawn cutter was quickly shattered.  The blades bogged down in the runners and the sand swallowed the wheels.  The result was not pretty.  Every ten feet, the mower had to be upended and the blades cleared.  I figured it would take about 14 hours to mow our 1/2 acre.  Add to that the stifling heat and humidity and the scene quickly degenerates into a cursing, sweating nightmare.

I tried to tell myself  "That's how it got done in the past."  It didn't work.  The intent was not to make us miserable, but strike a balance that worked for us.  We disassembled the mower, packed it up and sent it back.  While zero emissions and no noise would be great, the trade off was too much.  We investigated electric mowers but the thought of being tethered by a cord didn't excite me.  When we thought about it, there was no real gain, since electricity is typically generated around here using coal, which polluted the air.  Next, we looked at battery power.  Although promising, we noted that the battery capacity was only about 15-20 minutes.  Fine for a small lawn, but inadequate for our tough grass and relatively large lot.  It appeared we would have to return to the fossil fuel powered world if we were to keep our sanity.

Our new self propelled Toro seemed perfect for the job and it was easy to maneuver, but over time I realized our lawn was tougher on equipment than I had anticipated.  Our soft sand still made for some tough going and the assorted detritus constantly raining from our trees didn't help.  Our magnolias have tough leathery leaves and drop grenade-like pods that, when mowed over, are akin to hitting a piece of lumber.  Our oaks didn't help either with their millions of hard acorns and tough leaves that don't shred easily.  In one year, the underside of the mower had been thoroughly destroyed and the self-propel mechanism failed to operate.  To make matters worse, we needed a weedeater to get into corners and around the garden fence....yet another investment in equipment that would require maintenance and be subject to our harsh yard.

With the mower now out of commission and the lawn now tall enough to hide most African predators I made a snap decision today.  I called the lawn guys.  "We can be there in an hour..." the voice crackled on the other end of the phone.  "Do it,"  I replied.  In exactly an hour the landscapers arrived and dispersed across our lot with their industrial grade arsenal of lawn taming equipment.  Giant mowers and blowers whined in stereo and whizzing monster string trimmers made quick work of anything green that resisted a haircut.  In 15 minutes, they were gone and the lawn and yard looked better than it had in the last year.  We had come full circle.

As I stood outside, the dust of freshly shredded grass still settling, I felt oddly guilty.  We had gone backwards with self sufficiency and settled back into our old default which was having someone else deal with the lawn.  I caved.

I know many people who enjoy getting outside and mowing the lawn.  I'm not one of them.  I despise it, especially in the intense mid-summer heat and humidity.  Mosquitoes and sprawling spider webs draped between tree branches don't add anything nice to the experience.  Because I feel that way, I put off the job and as a result, our place often looks like shit...overgrown like one of those foreclosures you see in neighborhoods so often.  My compromise is the lawn guys. 

I justify the decision in two ways:  My life?...well, now it's simpler.  I don't have to mow.  My life is also less cluttered in that I don't have to keep, store and maintain lawn equipment.  The shed will be emptier (as will my wallet).  I still feel guilty ...like I didn't try hard enough.  I guess I'll take two out of three.

I tried.  Honest I did.  Let 'er rip guys.

Now that might be the solution.  Zero emissions too!

Hurricane Conditions

"Hurricane Conditions Possible."  That's what our forecast says for this coming Thursday.  "Hurricane Conditions" is weather service shorthand for "If you look outside, the shit is likely to be hitting the fan."

It isn't the first time I've seen that forecast.  In my 17 years in southeast NC, I've been through more hurricanes than I care to remember.  Our location has the good fortune of being in a position not unlike a man's sex organs.  We hang low and stick out into the Atlantic as an open invitation to be swiftly kicked with heavy boots.

Personally, I'm an extreme weather nut.  I'd be out there with the lunatics chasing tornadoes in Oklahoma in vehicles bristling with weather instruments if I didn't have to earn a living.  One would think I couldn't wait for a huge storm to blow through.  Well, I'd love it if I didn't have to worry about the possible destruction of my home, business and the safety and comfort of my family.  Those concerns trump any excitement I feel when those first gusts of wind arrive.

Every time we experience a hurricane here, I'm a basket case.  On one hand I don't want to witness the forcible removal of our roof and subsequent torrents of rain pouring in and on the other, I find the raw power of nature irresistible and so I worry while I'm standing outside in the tempest being blown around and saturated with sheets of rain.  I'm thinking the best solution is probably sedation.

For the next three days, I will be the go-to guy for latest on the storm.  I'll have coordinates, wind speeds and barometric pressures ready and memorized for the asking... I'll be excited and concerned.  I'll be first at the beach Thursday to watch the thunderous breakers rolling in even if it is already windy and raining.  Well...maybe not.  The surfers are sure to beat me.  While I'm watching the waves, I'll be thinking about whether I needed to get plywood on the windows of my business (which has 5 huge six by eight foot windows thankfully facing west.)  Depending on how strong the storm is, I might evacuate from the area to preserve my sanity.  I'd rather come back to see it when it's all over than to be trapped in my house as it is torn apart from the outside.  If it's bad enough to leave, what will I take with me?  Surely the mental exercise will assist in my continuing quest to minimize possessions.

Hurricane Earl might help me out...in a twisted sort of way.

Do your worst, just don't make a mess.

Trickle Down

Had an interesting conversation with a potential client today.

He called us to remove belongings of a recently deceased loved one from an assisted living facility.  While I made an assessment, he told me the story of the multiple downsizing activities of two family members leading up to this point.

He and his wife had been called upon to help make these moves since the ailing individuals were not capable of doing so.  In all, if I understood correctly, there were a total of four moves for two people within a short period of time.  Each time, a large portion of the possession load needed to be jettisoned.  I was being called to deal with the last of it.

The gentleman who called was probably in his sixties and although he appeared exhausted from the ordeal, he also seemed a bit relieved that the mental and physical load could be cast off...finally.  He currently runs his own business and expressed thanks that his capable staff has been able to handle the work load for him while he has been attending to current matters.  He's lucky indeed.  Many small business owners work with few employees and those employed at a job often don't have the ability to take large blocks of time off to deal with someone else's things.  The effect of "stuff" can be the severe disruption of someone else's life.

One of the things we never think about is how our belongings will affect those who may be charged with taking care of us or settling our affairs later in life.  Consumerism is a deeply personal affair.  We buy what we want when we want it.  What we often ignore is that our inanimate possessions can easily outlast us.  So what then?

I have one daughter.  The last thing I want is for her to have to deal with a lot of "dad's junk" when I'm gone.  I may love my possessions, but with a very few exceptions, I doubt she will feel the same.  Last on her list of enjoyable activities will be trying to figure out what to do with it all.  My goal is to make sure there's very little for her to monkey with.  Just one more reason to purge....

Twilight

I've always been a big fan of living life to its fullest.  I wish I followed my own advice more.  It seems that I let things get in the way.  Work, finances, relationships, kids, the house, the lawn....they all require attention, but I'm working on it.  I should work harder on living life fully.  A lot harder.

Nothing is a bigger motivator to live a full and clutter free life than seeing where life eventually leads.  Yes, yes we all return to the earth sometime, but its the stage before the return that really shows the reality of it all.

Not a week goes by when I don't see it.  My vocation often brings me in contact with executors for those who have passed, but just as often, the clients are still alive.  In these cases, I am dealing with grown children who have come in from far flung places to help a relative who no longer has the capacity to deal with a life that most of us take for granted.  Some have Alzheimers, others have terminal illnesses and many are just too frail to take on even the simplest of tasks.  Memory has faded and faculties wane.  Some are bed ridden and others simply sit in old, frayed, favorite chairs and gaze emptily at nothing. Above them, hanging on walls are old, faded relics of a lively past.  Military medals of valor, steeplechase ribbons, sports trophies...from a different life.  From a life before age exacted its toll.  Questions are asked by children and relatives in raised voices.  "Do you want to take this, Mom?"  "Dad, that won't fit in your tiny place at the home."  "You don't need this anymore do you?  Just let it go."

The twilight of life.  Time to cast off all the accumulations and pare back to just the basics.  A friend of mine who works closely with senior living facilities showed me the progression of buildings.... When you can't live in your own home, you start at "independent living" in a one bedroom apartment.  From there you move to smaller buildings where the care is more intensive and from there.....you know.  The trip is only one way.

Depressing?  Yes.  But this is reality.  A reality I see over and over with little variation other than the cast of characters.

Ask yourself.  What do you really need to be happy?  Is life about things or experiences?  Will all the neat stuff really matter when you reach your twilight?  Will you look back and think, "Boy I had some really great things, didn't I?"  Wouldn't you rather say "Boy, I did some great things, didn't I?"

Of great inspiration are the many sites and blogs that foster the art of living with very little.  Check out Minimalist Journey.

Time for me to start practicing what I preach.

Simple Things

Maybe our society is finally on the right track.  This article about McMansions is encouraging.  Perhaps in the end, less will be more and simple will win out over complicated.

I had my moment of simple bliss this evening.  In order for the reader to understand it better, I will need to provide some background.

I grew up in New York City, a place where getting close to nature wasn't easy.  My home was in the lesser known borough of Staten Island where I lived until I left for college.  Staten Island was the ultimate 70's suburb consisting of neighborhoods of homogeneous housing all crammed together.  Each had a postage stamp sized lot and there was enough room between each home to drive a car through...nothing more.  As a kid, my life played out on asphalt streets, concrete sidewalks and the occasional small square of grass that most area rugs could cover completely.  There were no "woods" or "forest" nearby except for a small "wildlife refuge" about 15 minutes away by foot.  The "refuge" was probably only a few dozen acres in size and was wedged between the largest garbage dump on the planet at the time and an eight lane wide main traffic artery.  If you stood in the center of the "forest,"you could smell trash and hear traffic. The refuge was the place I'd go to pretend I was in a real forest.  It was the best I could do.

On rare occasions my family took us to the mountains in upstate New York.  I loved it there.  It was strange to not hear the ever present background drone of cars, trucks, air conditioners and airplanes.  The air was fresh and smelled of leaves and balsam needles.  There were working farms too...something not seen in the big city.  I remember the sweet aroma of  hay, horse feed and the old wood of a centuries old barn.  I recall a day when it rained while we staying at a mountain house.  The clouds hung below the summits of the distant mountains enshrouding the seemingly endless forest in mist.  The only sound was the rain and when I closed my eyes, I could smell the earth, the trees, hay and the nearby farm.  It was my childhood nirvana.  My escape from the concrete and noise of the city.

Seventeen years ago, I moved to the medium sized coastal city where I now reside.  Although I often longed to escape the city when I was young, it still lived within me and I knew that I needed the stimulation, career opportuities and convenience it provided.  My current location affords me the ability to spread out a bit and create surroundings that are pleasant without having to worry too much about the encroachment of excessive noise and neighbors.

I've been in my current spot for five years and the cultivation of our surroundings is an ongoing project.  We have a vegetable garden, lots of trees, three roaming chickens, an herb patch and a bit more grass than I had as a kid.  Half of our land remains wooded and natural.

So...here's the moment of bliss thing. 

Today it rained.  A lot.  In the waning light of evening I stepped outside.  The light rain through the trees was a comforting sound.  I don't know about you, but that's a sound that lulls me to sleep at night.  There was no extraneous noise.   I decided to venture into the garden for a few moments to see if anything needed to be picked.  The chickens followed.  I pulled a few tomatoes from the vine and for a few moments I stopped, closed my eyes and turned my face skyward.  The light rain was cool and I could smell the damp hay we had used as mulch between the veggie beds.  I could make out hints of a barnyard scent from the coop behind me with notes of the feed and the nesting straw.  The hens chatted and scratched around me.  I could smell the wet lavender and rosemary.  I was transported back to my childhood vacation spot in the mountains near farms and forests.  My moment of zen.  My simpler life away from the clutter and chaos and hurry. 

Take simple moments.  Breathe, touch, smell...  Feel alive.

Just Say No

Apparently "no" is today's word of the day.

When it comes to business, I hate to say "no" but more than a decade of occasional miscalculations with clients has taught me the hard way.

I had to turn down three jobs today.  It had (almost) nothing to do with the fact that I was cranky after relocating the contents of a home in the blazing heat...and the flat tire...and, and whatever.

It rarely takes me more than sixty seconds to make a rough assessment of a potential client on the phone.  Most often they have called with the intention of selling items through us.  I must then often navigate a minefield of unrealistic expectations and exaggerated opinions of the marketability of belongings.

My mind has become a sort of spam filter, instantly reacting to certain key words and phrases.  If I hear the wrong words, chances are the conversation will be cut short and I will make my standard recommendations involving eBay and Craigslist.  "But that takes too much time" the voice on the other end of phone protests.  "I would like this done quickly."  Anything can be done quickly as long as the client is realistic.  Many are not.

Even in prosperous times, reality can sting.  In a recession....it can be downright painful.

For those who are experienced car buyers, it is a well known fact that once you drive a new vehicle off the lot, it loses a chunk of its value.  It is now "used" or rather "pre-owned."  Your shiny new ride has left the primary market and rolled into the secondary market.  With rare exceptions, this principle applies to nearly every type of consumer product.  Some items suffer huge amounts of depreciation once they aren't new.   Nearly everyone can use a car, but how many people want a bleached oak dining room set?  Almost nobody does "formal" dining anymore.  Nowadays, the bigger and heavier it is, the less people want it. Not to mention nobody has any money...for anything.  This can make the secondary market a very brutal place to be if you are trying to sell something huge....quickly.

So...I'm hauling boxes out of an attic, I'm covered with sweat and shreds of pink insulation and the phone rings.  The first words I hear are "Dining Room Set", "paid something, something thousand for it" and something about coming to pick it up along with a huge sofa and an entertainment center.  Very bad words.

When flat panel TV's entered the scene, the piece of furniture known as the Entertainment Center ceased to have value.  It was designed to hold the giant tube TV's that came just before their cooler, sleeker offspring.  Pound for pound, firewood now has a greater market value than an entertainment center.  Firewood also burns cleaner.  It matters not that the behemoth piece of furniture cost three grand just a few years ago.  The market is the market.  I can understand the pain a potential seller can feel especially if the dinosaur is still being paid off via revolving debt.  I can't help that. 

When the woman on the phone caught her breath after my right hook of reality, she then asked if I charged to pick up the items.  I said yes and provided her with a very modest figure of about $200 since we only try to cover our costs on pick ups.  Silence...then "That much?"  Yes, that much.  The conversation wasn't going well.

Last I checked, the average Entertainment Center, constructed of compressed and laminated particle board (oatmeal) weighs about 200-300 pounds.  Most dining room sets come with chairs, a big heavy table and at least one huge, heavy, glass encrusted china cabinet with multiple glass shelves.  The average modern sofa is a monster as well, usually bulky enough to ensure going through doors or around corners will be an complicated exercise in physics and solid geometry.  I won't even get into what happens if a flight of stairs is involved.  It's also hot outside and hotter in the trailer and the whole lot of it needs to be moved again when we get to the gallery.  I pay for gas, labor, insurance etc.  Two hundred bucks isn't asking a lot considering that the commission on those items in today's market might buy the crew a pizza.  On a good day it might have pepperoni on it.  

"Try Craigslist." I said.  She replied that she had done that already but nobody would pay $3,000.  "Too high." I replied.  "Try $750."  "That little?" She huffed.  "I can't change the market...sorry."  She capitulated and said "Well, we might have to take what we can get." 

This is the tough reality.  It is exacerbated by the functional obsolescence created by the constant introduction of new products.  Designers toil day and night to create newer, sleeker products that make everything we own look like yesterday's news.  In six months, the cycle starts all over again.  My answer?  If you have to buy, don't buy new. Recycle! Buy at auction.

Add this to the group that includes electric typewriters, console stereos and the Encyclopedia Britannica.

Screw That

When you visit people's homes on a regular basis, you can draw conclusions about some things.  My conclusion du jour?  Nobody has the proper adhesives, nails or screws to do most jobs.

I understand that unless you have the entire aisle of fasteners and adhesives from Home Depot in your garage, you're going to come up short on occasion, but some of the things people use to hold objects together is beyond my comprehension.  

A recent list:

In the same home I moved a china cabinet constructed with 1/2 inch brads (which fell apart) and a solid oak piece that had another 6 ounce item attached to it with a two inch wood screw that apparently took so much effort to drive it in, it was completely stripped and can no longer be removed.

I've seen furniture held together with silicone caulk, tape and about a gallon of glue.

There have been high grade coins held in an album with clear adhesive tape, and non removable adhesive price tags placed on every type of rare item that would be damaged by such a decision.  Heavy mirrors miraculously levitate on walls, suspended on tiny hooks holding onto nothing but the paper coating on the wallboard and tiny wicker baskets hang on lag bolts driven into studs.

I could go on. 

Interestingly, I have rarely witnessed the use of duct tape for everyday repairs.  I've seen it used on a car to completely cover a missing window, hold the front bumper on and keep fenders and front grills from falling out, but rarely is it utilized as repair in most (stick built) homes.

My theory is that most people have only a few means of fastening anything in the house.  In the kitchen drawer there might be a thumbtack, four brads, rubber cement and a 6 inch bolt used to hold the garage door frame in place.  If one needs to hang a heavy picture and doesn't feel like going to the hardware store for a thirty cent screw that's exactly the right size, one of the handy items might just work.  If not, some similar assortment might be lying in the bottom of the  tool box in the garage. (A roofing nail, some Elmer's glue, staples and two or three 16 penny nails left over from framing the next door neighbor's shed.)

Whatever works.

More later.

Beans!

I can completely relate to how much work it takes to grow your own food. 

Summer here in the Carolinas can be hot.  This year, it has been worse than that. 

In the spring, when the weather is pleasant and the seeds go in, it can be an exciting time.  Now it's August and this year, like the last two years, trudging out to the garden to harvest in the oppressive heat and humidity is a chore.  Don't get me wrong, I still love discovering what has ripened up under a patch of leaves, but I start to sweat, profusely, after about 45 seconds and the mosquitoes can see me coming as soon as I get out the door.

This year has been less than stellar for veggies.  Every hungry variety of insect and fungus has torn through the garden.  Everything seems to be eating our food but us.  We have friends who find random growing squashes and tomatoes in their yards that are bearing more than  our carefully cultivated plants. I suppose if we ignore everything, our yields might be better.

A few  crops are doing well despite the invertebrate and fungal assault.  Take green beans for example....  To date I have more beans blanched and frozen in the freezer than anything else.  It is impossible to keep up with them.  If you don't pick them young, they get tough and stringy.  I would have to set up a bed next them to stay on top of the harvest.  Last month it became apparent that I was losing the battle so I've opted for a different approach.  We let the pods mature and brown, then harvest them for the beans inside.  That way, I could just let them be.

Today I went out and cut hundreds of the dried pods and proceeded to open them for the seeds. The process took nearly an hour and yielded probably one good side dish for the family.  That's cool.  Its always nice to reap the benefits of work in the garden, but being realistic, I understand that I wouldn't feel the same if I had to do it every day and it was my only source of food.  For all too many, that's the reality.  Its easy to say "Oh, those came from our garden" with a smile when you know you can go to the supermarket up the street and buy the same quantity for about a dollar if you didn't feel like going to the effort to process your crops. The air conditioned supermarket is always an option for most of us.

So what am I getting at?  Part of having the garden is not only to work towards being self sufficient (which we obviously aren't this year) but to understand and appreciate the work that goes into growing and raising your food.  Especially if it is your only source of food.  For a lot of people on this planet, a cucumber beetle infestation can be devastating.  For me, its merely disappointing.  The little buggers found our cukes and tunnel into them, making them rot inside.  At least the chickens love them.  If I need cukes, I can get them down the street.

I guess a little part of the enjoyment that comes from gardening and raising food is knowing that you have the option to not do it and still survive.  If my meals came only from the yard, I'd be mighty hungry and irritable right now.  I would certainly be eating a lot of omelets.  So far, the chickens have provided the only sure thing this year.  It doesn't take much to keep them happy, plus they eat everything that failed in the garden.  As far as the food / effort quotient is concerned, the chickens win hands down this year.  I'm sure those ratios come into play even more for folks that rely solely on what they can raise for food.

A backyard garden is romantic, cool, green, in vogue, progressive and a host of other adjectives.  For those of you out there that have one, the next time you pick a tomato, yank an onion or collect a few eggs, give a brief moment of recognition to those who do those things to survive.  I appreciate the natural processes that provide my family with food and will continue to do so.  Those same processes can also be confounding.  C'est la vie.  Fresh squash is on sale down the street.

Daddy, I want that.....and that.

As if it isn't hard enough resisting the temptation of adult "stuff", the task of raising a child in an uber capitalist society can be daunting.

My daughter is nine.  She wants a cell phone.  If that isn't a potential financial train wreck, nothing is.

I've tried hard to shield her from the unrelenting messages that coax and prod her to nag mom and dad for more things.  Short of raising her in a doggie cage in the den with the shades pulled down, there's no way I can keep her from being influenced by advertising.  Its everywhere.

When I was young cartoons were cartoons.  A fantasy used to escape from math homework.  Now marketers blur the lines between children's shows and the products they try to hawk.  Children have wonderfully imaginative minds.  They can't help but assume that the little plastic pony in the store will be just like the one that flies, laughs and makes dreams come true on TV.  I know better...usually.  But kids don't.  That sort of advertising ranks up there with the letters my grandmother used to receive from scammers telling her that she had won a foreign lottery and all she had to do was send a processing fee of $500 to collect her $500,000.  Its criminal and it makes the job of parenting much more difficult.

I remember sitting with her, watching shows.  During every commercial break on at least 3 occasions, she'd say "I want that."  It became a family joke and I would try to beat her to the punch by saying "I want that" before she did.  "No daddy, that's not for you."

I had to patiently sit and explain to her how the pony didn't fly, the doll didn't dance and the little kitty doesn't snuggle up to you and purr like it does on TV.  (Although the miracle of technology has overcome that.)  I knew it was all just crap.  Expensive crap that would keep her occupied for about 12 minutes before it ended up in the catch-all toy bin. 

At first she didn't understand, but eventually, she did.  I'll never forget the first time I heard her say "That's junk.  It'll probably break and I know I can't do magic with it."  Boy, was I proud.  I had created a little dissenter.  We even broke her of the "I want to go to McDonalds to get a happy meal" habit.  She only wanted the toy.  Typically it was some plastic molded Shrek figurine made in China probably by a 14 year old who worked in a hot factory 20 hours a day to churn out 20 million Shreks for McDonalds that would end up entertaining American kids for 5 minutes.  After that they'd end up under car seats, between sofa cushions or chewed up by the dog.  One more useless thing to clutter up our lives.

At nine, she understands a lot of what advertising tries to do...thanks to her gavel slamming father's dissertations, but she still has a tough time overcoming the want of things. 

We have "home cleanout days" regularly and I encourage her to participate in deciding what goes to the flea market.  Its all too easy as parents to decide what our kids don't need anymore and get rid of it, but I'm very much in favor of encouraging children to make decisions about clearing out clutter.  I have been surprised at the things she's been willing to give up on her own.  Once every few months, we haul what we've cleaned out to the flea market and she gets to run the show and keep the money from anything she voluntarily brought to sell.  The fly in the ointment is that sometimes the money burns a hole in her pocket and she wants to REPLACE what she cleared out with something "better."  And so our task continues.

No sweetheart.  It's nowhere near as fun as you think it will be.

I'm Sorry, But You are Mistaken.

Ask someone what something is worth and you invariably get several answers.  One may argue that an item is worth what an appraiser values it for.  Another may say that a collectible is worth what the price guide says its worth.

In my business there is a very simple measurement of value.  An item is worth what someone is willing to pay for it...today.  Simple.  Clean.  If the guide book says your Hummel figurine is worth $100, it means nothing unless there is a check made out to you stapled to that page.  If four bidders are competing for it at one of our sales and it sells for $25 to the highest bidder... Guess what?  It's worth $25.  Books and appraisers (I am one) can say anything they want.  Real value is accompanied by cash or good check.

The problem is that value fluctuates.  Once upon a time Hummel figurines were hot.  We rarely ever sold one for less than $50 and $200 or more wasn't unheard of.  Then came eBay.  Suddenly everyone with a computer and rudimentary digital photography skills was listing grandma's Hummels on eBay.  In no time there were literally tens of thousands for sale at any given time.  The world was awash in a Hummel tsunami.  If you were searching for one, all you had to do was pop onto eBay and there were fourteen of the same one listed.  The market became flooded and prices plummeted.  Now we don't see those old prices anymore.  Not by a long shot.

But what about the $119.95 your aunt paid for that Christmas Hummel ten years ago?  Guess what......

When I explain that process, nobody wants to believe me.  "But the book says its worth $100..."

I go on that I'd love to get $200 for it at auction since I work on commission, but it won't happen.

Nobody wants to admit that an "investment" went bad so sometimes I'll even hear a response like..."Well, I guess you don't get the right kind of collectors at your sales.  Can you recommend another place I can sell this?"

Thinking like this is a huge obstacle to releasing possessions and wastes enormous amounts of time as the search for a better price commences.  If I bought IBM stock at $100 last week and it closes at $70 today, I can't make any arguments about why it should still fetch $100 even if I can produce a copy of last week's Wall Street Journal that shows it priced at $100.  The market says $70.  End of conversation.

Rule of thumb:  The value of something today often has absolutely nothing to do with what was paid for it.

Market forces are beyond my control or anyone else's for that matter.  I'm flattered that people often see me as some sort of deity with the ability to wave my magic gavel and collect a desired price.  I wish. 

So much for that Hummel financed vacation...

More later...

Hammer Time

"You must have some great stuff in your house."

By far this is the line I hear the most when I disclose that I'm an auctioneer.  Indeed, in nearly a dozen years I have had the opportunity to secure just about anything you can think of.  Whale penis?  Yup. (From the estate of an Alaskan family.)  Varnished hornet's nest?  Of course.  Rubber full sized replica of a car engine?  You bet.  (From the warehouse of a movie propmaster.)  There's never a dull moment in my business.  Never.

Despite the illusion that I've seen it all, there is always something new and unusual that I haven't seen.  I'm constantly surprised at what can be found in the homes of everyday citizens. 

Over the years I've also learned about the people who have the possessions.  When my firm is charged with going through and sorting the contents of a home that represents a lifetime's accumulation, it is easy to build a story out of the stuff.  Were they travelers or hermits?  Collectors?  Compulsives?  Cooks?  The belongings speak.

Sometimes we sell the assets of people who are still alive.  As we evaluate we hear the stories about the acquisitions. 

Through the years a number of generalizations have become obvious.  First....most people have no idea how they ended up with so many possessions.  Second....a great number of people express some sort of regret about having large numbers of items.  Often they feel buried under the weight of their own things.  They are buried under the physicality of the items and by the psychological connection to items that prevents them from giving them up.  Many merge their identity with their belongings.

None of this is surprising considering we live in an acquisitive society.  We're all about BUY, BUY, BUY and MORE, MORE, MORE.  Our bloated homes strain to contain it all and even then, people find they must pay to put items in storage.  God forbid you need to relocate.  Moving everything becomes a gargantuan task.

My job is to sell assets for people, businesses, executors, administrators and the like.  The auction method is the most efficient way to monetize a large number of assets in a short time.  Bidders congregate and the highest bidder for each item wins.  We are often, but not always, in contact with those in distress, be it financial, personal or otherwise.  Most often, we provide a solution.  Through the process of contracting, sorting, valuing and eventually selling, we are in communication with our main contact point.  The content of these communications has led me to conclude that in general, most of us own far too many things.

Again and again I hear the message from different people in different forms.  We'd be happier overall if we just got rid of non-essential items.  Even better if we didn't accumulate them in the first place.  Our planet would be healthier too. 

I was, for a long time, someone who saw material possessions as a way of establishing status in society.  More stuff meant you were richer than someone who had less.  That is, after all, what marketers aim for.  If you have more, it must be better and you must be happier.  Right?

I know better now and have embarked on a quest to remove from my life that which isn't really important.  It is easier said than done and it is quite common for me to waffle about getting rid of something.  Overall though, the benefits have been huge.

With the economic downturn, people are taking stock of their lives and a grassroots movement has begun to live with less and live sustainably.  The movement is inherently counter to what our society preaches.  We are told we must consume, the economy must expand....  Its not sustainable or healthy.

I hope to share some of my interactions and experiences.  My challenges and transgressions.  Maybe provide a little insight into what material possessions do to people.  I see it every day, every week, every month.  The stories are different but the message is the same.

As an auctioneer, I also stumble into some humorous situations and discover strange generalizations people make.  This is the outlet..... Lets have some fun.