Mary Ann Ellis
Yard sales and nostalgia
“Do you want to hit some yard sales tomorrow?” my sister Sarah Nell asked me Friday night on the phone.
She knows I’m not much of a yard sale person because the early bird gets the bargains, and I’m no early bird—never was, never will be. However, this was no ordinary yard sale Saturday. This was Peaches to Beaches weekend—the mother of all yard sales. I pondered her question and envisioned forcing my sore feet to walk for miles. I swear I heard them groan. I’d done a lot of walking on Friday during a Waycross excursion. Not only were my feet aching, but my wallet was nearly empty; the only shopping I could afford was of the yard sale variety.
“I don’t know,” I replied. “What time are we talking about?”
“Well, I was thinking about 8 o’clock,” she said.
“You mean in the morning, getting up with the chickens, the crack of dawn 8 a.m.?” I asked.
“Yes,” she said. “You’re not exaggerating much are you? It won’t kill you to get up this one time.”
“I’m pretty sure it will. You go on without me. I’ll talk to you later in the day—the second half of it.”
Late Saturday morning I said to Larry, “Today’s Peaches to Beaches yard sales. You want to go to a few of them?”
“Yes, let’s do,” he replied. “By the way Carole called and said that the library’s having a big sale on books.”
That information made the decision for us and we were off. We’ll yard sale for books. We bought a box of books at the library and then roamed about the square, stopping to visit with friends and admire various wares. I bought a couple more books, and we decided to ease back toward Pine Grove. At the edge of town, we stopped again.
“Larry, look at that little John Deere tractor over there. Our boys . . .”
The words were not even out of my mouth when I realized that we have no toddlers any more. Our youngest grandson is in school. He’s long since outgrown baby and toddler toys. A wave of nostalgia washed over me as I stared at that shiny green tractor. We browsed some more and bought some more books, then moved along, deciding to go up to Hazlehurst to look around there awhile. I especially like the ball park area where so many venders set up in one place. We looked at everything from neon green Peaches to Beaches tee shirts to antique kitchen gadgets, as well as lots of stuff in between. Stuff, of course, is an all inclusive word.
As I ambled about it seemed to me that every stall had tables and racks of frilly little girl clothes. We saw cribs, baby beds, and any thing any one could possibly need for a baby. Again I felt just a hint of nostalgia for our babies.
It didn’t last long though. I remembered my conversation with Will, who was 3 at the time. He and his brothers were fighting over who was in charge of the remote. Teasing him, I asked Will if he wanted a turn being in charge of the remote.
He replied, “Grandma, you can’t put a three-year-old in charge of anything. Ask me after my birthday.”
Our 10-year-old and his class of 4th graders just spent a couple of days at Rock Eagle. He said they spent quite a bit of time outside looking at insects, among other things. It wasn’t long ago that he was scared of them.
The boys are all in choirs and we go up to Atlanta frequently to visit and to hear them sing. They’re also busy with scouts. The yearning for babies was just a grandmother’s fleeting thought. Babies are so much fun and so much work. They do grow up, thank goodness.
And the yard sale was a great success for us. We have enough books to last a few months. Maybe one year we’ll find enough to last until the next Peaches to Beaches.
“I don’t know,” I replied. “What time are we talking about?”
“Well, I was thinking about 8 o’clock,” she said.
“You mean in the morning, getting up with the chickens, the crack of dawn 8 a.m.?” I asked.
“Yes,” she said. “You’re not exaggerating much are you? It won’t kill you to get up this one time.”
“I’m pretty sure it will. You go on without me. I’ll talk to you later in the day—the second half of it.”
Late Saturday morning I said to Larry, “Today’s Peaches to Beaches yard sales. You want to go to a few of them?”
“Yes, let’s do,” he replied. “By the way Carole called and said that the library’s having a big sale on books.”
That information made the decision for us and we were off. We’ll yard sale for books. We bought a box of books at the library and then roamed about the square, stopping to visit with friends and admire various wares. I bought a couple more books, and we decided to ease back toward Pine Grove. At the edge of town, we stopped again.
“Larry, look at that little John Deere tractor over there. Our boys . . .”
The words were not even out of my mouth when I realized that we have no toddlers any more. Our youngest grandson is in school. He’s long since outgrown baby and toddler toys. A wave of nostalgia washed over me as I stared at that shiny green tractor. We browsed some more and bought some more books, then moved along, deciding to go up to Hazlehurst to look around there awhile. I especially like the ball park area where so many venders set up in one place. We looked at everything from neon green Peaches to Beaches tee shirts to antique kitchen gadgets, as well as lots of stuff in between. Stuff, of course, is an all inclusive word.
As I ambled about it seemed to me that every stall had tables and racks of frilly little girl clothes. We saw cribs, baby beds, and any thing any one could possibly need for a baby. Again I felt just a hint of nostalgia for our babies.
It didn’t last long though. I remembered my conversation with Will, who was 3 at the time. He and his brothers were fighting over who was in charge of the remote. Teasing him, I asked Will if he wanted a turn being in charge of the remote.
He replied, “Grandma, you can’t put a three-year-old in charge of anything. Ask me after my birthday.”
Our 10-year-old and his class of 4th graders just spent a couple of days at Rock Eagle. He said they spent quite a bit of time outside looking at insects, among other things. It wasn’t long ago that he was scared of them.
The boys are all in choirs and we go up to Atlanta frequently to visit and to hear them sing. They’re also busy with scouts. The yearning for babies was just a grandmother’s fleeting thought. Babies are so much fun and so much work. They do grow up, thank goodness.
And the yard sale was a great success for us. We have enough books to last a few months. Maybe one year we’ll find enough to last until the next Peaches to Beaches.
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