Trash & Treasures: The Great American Yard Sale

It has been said that “one man’s trash is another man’s treasure.” Not until you have had a yard sale of your own do you fully appreciate that statement. If you’ve never had a yard sale, you don’t know what you’re missing. If you have had a yard sale, you know  exactly what you are missing Only a day removed from my first (and perhaps last) yard sale in my almost 46  years on this earth, I am tempted to say that it will be another 46 years before my next one.

Now, don’t get me wrong. It was great to get rid of so much junk that has accumulated over the last five years since we have been in Alamogordo. Making a few extra dollars from selling such junk was not bad, either. And, getting to observe — and talk to — complete strangers was not without its benefits, particularly for a preacher always on the lookout for good sermon illustrations.

As I began writing this post, my wife asked if I was writing this from a religious or spiritual perspective. Although I write every post from my own perspective — which includes the religious and spiritual —  every now and then, particularly after a week filled with serious posts on Chick-fil-A (here, here, and here), I just need to write something more light-hearted and off-beat.

Speaking of off-beat, I’ve never encountered so many off-beat people as frequented my yard sale on Friday and Saturday. Rising at 5:30 a.m. to get ready for a 7:00 a.m. start on Friday morning, I was ready for the mass of humanity that I just knew would flock to my yard sale to buy all of the “treasures” that I could suddenly live without. Note to self — if you don’t want early birds at your yard sale, at least advertise that fact. At 6:30 a.m. (way too early for anyone to be up), two women came looking for a bargain. With as much of a smile as I could muster, I told them to look around.

Some people get bent out of shape if early bird yard sale shoppers show up, but not me. I figured anyone who would show up that early must really want to spend their money. As it turned out, that’s exactly what happened. These two women would end up being my best customers all day, each buying a whopping $17 in junk merchandise. If only every other customer would have spent that much. Alas, the reality of yard sales began to dawn on me quickly.

On both Friday and Saturday, people would come. They really wouldn’t stop coming until about noon. Even though my yard sale was open for business until 2:00 p.m., I fully understood why there was no business in the afternoon. In August in the desert of New Mexico, no one wants to be out and about after about 11:00 a.m. It’s simply too hot to drive from yard sale to yard sale, even if you think you’ll find that once-in-a-lifetime item.

I saw all kinds of folks stopping in front of my driveway in their quest for that treasure hidden among the trash. There were the professional yard salers — those who would take a quick, 30-second stroll around my tables only to head back to their cars without so much as saying one word or making eye contact. There were the husbands who had been dragged kicking and screaming came along willingly with their wives. There were the families who came in search of things that they truly needed, like clothes or a high chair.

Young and old, men and women, they came to the Great American Yard Sale in search of treasure. Am I glad that I had my first yard sale? Yes. I’ve got a lot less trash in my garage. Would I have another one? Ask me that in another five years. By that time I’ll probably have accumulated more of my own trash that I can sell off as treasures. And, I’ll have forgotten what a pain it was to have a yard sale in the first place!