Is there anything else worthy of my devotion?

Oh yes, lots of things and a few really fantastic people. Of course, I’m extremely biased because most of those few people are family; grandchildren are the cherry on top! But, I do honestly enjoy things of old. My eldest son is working on a project lately that would be more easily accomplished if he had an anvil. As crazy as it may sound I used to have one. My son was surprised to discover I used to have one. I had picked the monstrosity up from a swap meet for about twenty smackers. If I would have known one day he would need one I would have found room for it in my car when I moved. Alas, it is one of those long lost items from my former life.

There’s an awesome antique store in town. The old brick building used to be a sock factory. The town used to be the sock capital of world, but a little more than a decade ago the owners packed up and moved their operations to China. The economy here has since gone the way of the Dodo. Among some of the ancient relics I like are old buildings. This particular old building is no exception, and it’s filled to the brim with the most wonderful forgotten treasures one is to find. I once purchased an antique brush, comb, and mirror set from them. Another time I purchased a beverage set with tray made from bamboo. Those went to my daughter who absolutely loves them. I love browsing these repositories of antiquity and can get lost for hours in such places, especially when the owner has a layered arrangement that catches your eye.

It seems the original item that draws your attention catapults you to another item, and another, and another like Hansel and Gretel’s bread crumbs. One of my favorite antique shops is in a little community called Gurley; everything there is purely American made – makes my red, white, and blue heart skip a beat when I drive up and see the “American Made Only” sign. These owners know how to display their wares; again, Hansel and Gretel must have trained them.

My brother once took in an old wringer washing machine motor and traded it for an antique train; one American item for another. My brother was tickled with the exchange. Who wouldn’t be happy with such a sweet deal? And, this is the beauty of dealing with owners of antique galleries. It makes one especially giddy when the owner knows what he’s doing and what he’s dealing with, and if he doesn’t, well, he usually knows someone he can call who does.

I haven’t been antiquing in quite some time and miss it. Lately I’ve had the itch to go on a quest. I’ve been chomping at the bit and my only saving grace is I’m flat busted. I’ve turned my pockets out, emptied my change jar, and dug under the couch cushions and under the seats of my car; I simply don’t have the means to buy a darned thing. I should go anyway, but it would just shatter my heart to walk away from a treasure I must have. You know what I’m talking about, that one item that makes your heart skip a beat, makes your palms sweaty, and makes you wonder what you can say to the owner to lower that price just a little so you can claim the thing for your own. Though, I do think some browsing and window shopping is in order. Next Saturday I’m heading out and making the rounds. I absolutely must!

Like Hansel and Gretel I'll be trying to find my way home...home to that one, very special antique I'll fall in love with.

American Made

Halito Fellow Typospherians and Collectors of Antiquated Relics!

This is the first entry to my new blog. They probably won’t come but once a week for an undetermined time. At present a typewriter is absent from my life. When I was in grade school and on through high school (I’m talking going on three decades here) I had a portable I was rather fond of. As with people, so too items have come and gone from my life, the old portable was no exception. Until one crosses my path again these posts will be computer generated.

I love antiquated, ancient relics. I like them because most objects made eons ago were built to last, unlike today’s computers, printers, cell phones, kitchen appliances, automobiles, relationships, and old fashioned, honest to goodness freedom which is currently built to be consumed and thrown away within a limited amount of time. I am particularly found of those glorious wonders conceived, produced, and distributed in the U.S. of A. The American Made label is near and dear to this heart!

I would like to say there is one particular object of my passion, but there are simply too many wonders to put one above another. I cherish old books that have yellowed pages, a solid spine, and some lovely inlay on the cover or a unique sketch inside. I also cherish old books that ring a cord in me, such as an old how-to that gives step-by-step instructions for a dying craft or skill set. An old Star Trek book falls into this category. I like old reprints of sketches and photographs; old quilts; some select old nicknacks. I adore old jewelry, coins, buttons, picture frames, furniture, mirrors, some dishes, some of the old, old dial phones, and so on and so forth.

Other things I like that are unable to fit into the antiquated relic category are colored pencils, felt pens of all sizes and colors, and graphite pencils. These are dear to me because one of my passions is sketching. I like to mix some of these mediums, and sometimes I prefer not. I like the feel of paper, be it intended for sketching or writing. Since my other passion is writing the last should make good sense.

I have collected quite an assortment of the above through the years, but separated from them in ’08 when I officially cleansed myself of just about everything I owned and moved from California to Alabama. It is best you forgo asking me why I would do such a thing. My right mind had temporarily escaped me. Just before the losing of my rationale I had also collected cats, or perhaps I had already separated from it while in the throws of collecting said cats. At any rate, my rationale had failed me miserably. When the significant other passed away I felt a great need to be rid of everything, so away it all went!

So, here I sit in the great state of Alabama (not) writing this first blog entry. I’m stuck, as one might say. Stuck and can’t for the life of me get away. Try as I may (and I do) I can’t earn enough money to dislodge myself from this interesting, beautiful, and most definitely often frightening and deadly place. I take comfort in writing, sketching, playing with the grandson, and knowing the work I do serves a purpose.

Adadoligi

G.W.

(A.K.A. Bell Stone)

(A.K.A. Angel Dispatch)