There came a point in my life when I asked myself, “Do I have enough stuff yet?” I was still not sure of the answer. When I started looking around the house to try to get rid of things, I knew. This was the time.

Every time Greg and I would set off in another direction, I would get my hopes up in the event that I would find something wonderful. The item of the day. We would set off in all directions of Texas from Huntsville to some remote town in Louisiana, just trying to find a new stop along the way. Some new store that would sell junk or antiques from a thimble to a dresser, we would buy it if the price was right. This book is the latest adventure. My desire in writing this book is to preoccupy my free time. I seem to be a little too busy for my own good, yet have the time to write this thing. By day I am a hairdresser, by night a antique buff and writer. The weekends seem to be full of the yard work, you know, with the day lily farm and all. The endless travel from Saturday to Sunday evening looking for the deal of a lifetime. The estate sales and the antique shows that we handle, organize and promote. I just needed to settle down and write.

The television blaring the super bowl in the background, the dog whining to get outside, and my left leg falling asleep, (I was sitting on it) and all I want to do is write about antique shopping, and collecting all kinds of things.

We started off on a trip to town, dad and I were going to get some groceries or something. There was a sign, it read “garage sale” dad pulled over and turned around. We pulled up in this yard where all you could see was stuff, piled on plywood boards on saw horses. There were stuffed animals, toys, dishes, all kinds of junk. Dad got out and milled around while I went through the toys and stuffed animals. Soon we were on the road again with our 5 and 10 cent items and were very proud. We would often leave with nothing from one of these outings, even if I was the only one with something in my hands, it often got left behind. I was always willing to work on it or fix the damaged areas. Even an electrical item, I guess dad did keep me alive longer. This ritual would go on for an hour or so, it seemed to fly by in a flash. Dad was a good looking man with a flattop, and a thin build. Leftovers from the army I guess. I was not even thought of until he was forty three years old. Mom and dad started early and went late. There was two daughters early on and then they started over when mom was thirty six. My sister was third, and then my brother, and then me. The baby, I was hated by all. There was always some kind of game that ended up hurting me. The one I am thinking of most was the knock on the head, (where the illness started). I was only four and my sister and brother decided to watch me rock in my little rocker. They piled up some cinder blocks and put a couple of boards across the two piles and decided to see me rock on high. Well, one swift rock and boom, I was bloody from head to toe. Dad says I was standing beside him all of the way to the hospital, not one word or cry. I was probably looking for a sale. One of my first memories is of a bug in a funnel thing made of sand. The thing would eat ants if you put them in there. They would kick up sand and soon get the ant. This was under the first balcony of the house. We lived on the bank of the river in Tennessee. The house was built on a large slab of rock and was two story. From the road the house seemed only one story, when you follow the drive around, the second or lower level was revealed. The lower level was all glass except the wall against the rock. There was a huge tree without bark in the middle of the house, I don’t remember if it went through the house or what. The stairway was built along the tree, and there was a phone on the tree. I remember running up the stairs and answering the phone when I was just about 4 years of age. One Christmas my brother and I went to the stairs and peeked down at the fireplace, mom and sis was putting stuff in the stockings. The next morning I had t prove to mother there was no Santa. I found the candies and stuff in the cabinet. I was so proud, yet it was now over. No Santa! At the bottom of the stairway was a beautiful full length mirror, to the right of that there was the bathroom with a claw foot tub. One evening I was going into the bathroom and found my mother sleeping in the tub, almost under the water. The poor thing, 48 years old and three small children, just lost her next to oldest daughter from spinal problems and the oldest moved in with a man in Michigan, she had a child the same time as mom. That was my brother, then me two years later. Now that was embarrassing, I am sure. Is that your sister? How cute both of you pregnant at the same time. Ha-ha, I don’t think so. Poor sis, I would have moved off too. The house had a beautiful porch that hung over the side of the cliff, with a full balcony all of the way around the upper portion. The glass around the bottom kept us very entertained. I am surprised we were not turned to the animal control for the abuse of all of the birds that broke their necks. Every once in a while we would have a bird in the house, that was fun. We would chase the poor things around screaming and yelling. The bird would eventually break its neck or barely make it out. Once my brother decided we should play a trick on mom. This was a bad idea. We took a really large rock from the yard and threw it over the edge of the balcony. I screamed as if I had fallen over. Aughhhhhhhhhh.. Slowly fading out. My brother cried out “mom, Fred fell over the cliff. Help! Help! I went over to the washer and dryer and squeezed in back. This was when mom called dad at work and was freaking out. I remember dad calling to me, “Frederic get out here, NOW!“ I could not move, I was stuck. Clousterfobia is the punishment I received for this stunt. When I finally hollered out, I got beat. This was a very bad idea. One time we were bouncing a balloon back an forth, and dad was getting angry because of our excitement. He would quiet us down from time to time. The army left dad with several leftovers. The flat top for one, and the ability to shut the noise down in an instant. Well after a while with the balloon, it landed on his fresh flat top and POW! We all got in trouble for that one. The old house we used to live in was next door. The older house had a basement and a tin roof. The basement was the spooky room. We would have to stay down there when we had company. We kept it blocked off most of the time. Once a snake was crawling across the floor and down to the basement. Dad was even very cautious at finding him. This one Easter we were so excited to hunt eggs, and I barely remember the thing. My sister tells me I was looking everywhere, under rocks, moving toys, the works. When all of a sudden, there were all of these eggs, they were a bit smaller and a bunch in one spot. My sister screaming and making a fuss, I knew I would be the king of the hill. I would have the biggest fullest basket ever, but no! sis had to kill it all. Mom came out and made me get away from the snake and all of her eggs, whatever. My siblings were always spoiling my fun. My brother had a neat idea about sliding down the tin roof. It was so cool. We were all sliding and sliding, none of us ever fall off the roof. Then all of a sudden my brother had to kill the fun. again with the screaming, oh sure, the nail he went over just split him a little extra, not my problem. I still wanted to play. The monkey blood was the best payback. I figured, if I can’t play at least I can watch the fun. My sister had to doctor him. There was the time my brother bet all of our friends that he could fly. With the use of an umbrella, he bet them he could just float down to the lower level of the house. We all bet him he would not do it. He did, and not very successful either. The umbrella did a wrong side out, and the stick that he landed on kind of became an appendage. The kids did not want to pay up, and so my sister had to beat the crap out of them. My sister seemed to do that a lot. One winter we were snowed in. There was a man that come along and tapped on the upper side of the house and asked if all was well. Mom grabbed a poker and threatened his life. Later that year around Christmas we were looking out the window and saw a beautiful white horse. It was tied to a tree, and we went to get mom, and when we returned, it was gone. Weird. This was the same year we saw the U.F.O. we were down by the river, fishing for the first time. Our lines kept getting tangled up, mostly because my brother caught a fish. I wanted to also, so I nabbed the same hole. It did not work. When we got ready to leave, the U.F.O. came into sight and zipped across the sky and was gone. That’s the story anyway. Some things are probably better left out. Oh well, too late. The older couple across the road had a lot of chickens, and the gentleman was always chewing on straw. Like a bad country and western music video. They would let us help them catch the chickens. This was fun until we found out why they wanted to catch them. I started to a school there in Tennessee I don’t remember too much about it except if we read this book all of the way through we would get a prize. I had older siblings had taught me some and I had no problem with the task. I went to get on the bus the first day of school and the bus driver stopped me at the door. He said I did not belong on his bus. I had watched this bus for years, and this was my bus! He got everyone to be quiet and asked if I belonged to anyone. Silence filled the enclosing space around us. I told him my sister and brother rode this bus but he would not listen. He put me off of the bus and started up the steps. My brother and sister had been looking for me at the room, where they left me that morning. They came running up to the bus and me and we got on. I was so scared I would not get home. The little things are very serious to children. They don’t see the whole picture.