Call me weak. If I see the word “antiques” on any sign or billboard, I have to stop. My husband gets to the point where he’s tired of not only stopping at these divine places, but he will actually divert my attention to somewhere else so that we purposefully pass an antique shop just to keep driving. I’ll hear, “Look, honey! There’s a herd of Guernsey cows in that pasture.” Naturally, I look at the cows. Then when I turn my head back, I see the antiques sign going away back down the road….. and I whine. How could he?

It’s not my fault. My dad, my stepmom, my sister-in-law, and two of my best friends got me into antiquing. It first started when I would receive various pieces for presents. There would be some furniture from my family or glassware from my friends. I would tag along with them when they went antiquing, and more and more I fell in love with certain collections. The bug had hit.

And then….. And then…..my husband and I started to go antiquing just for fun. We learned to love old oak furniture and speciality pieces. We would say, “Wouldn’t the foyer look great with an old oak hall tree?” You know the kind. They have beautiful scrolling, a mirror, places to hang your hats, and almost always a seat that lifted up for storage. So, we would search until we found the one we loved. And on and on it went. An old wooden ice box, a pie safe, a secretary, chests, and beds, until we had no more room to spare. So what do you do then? You don’t give up! You go small! Coffee mills, crocks, butter churns, and more. I call it collecting history.

I said to my daughter one day, “Now, sweetie! I know you don’t want to have to deal with all these things when we are gone someday. So, I want you to just keep what you want and sell the rest.” “Oh, mom! I want everything!” She said. You see, my daughter (now in her middle age years) was just a toddler when she started going antiquing. She knew what it was like to go to an auction and bid for a table, a lamp, or a chair. She grew up with fine old and well-made furniture. No way, Jose! She’s not getting rid of those antiques!

Which leads me to last weekend. She and I were in Virginia visiting family. My daughter and I went to the BIGGEST antique mall in all of Virginia. It would take two days to see the whole thing. She bought a purse, and I bought a coal iron for ironing clothing. It actually had coal in it!! So, I thought I would add that to my unique iron collection. The problem was….it weighed about twenty pounds or more. It truly made me appreciate permanent press clothing. We took turns carrying it through the mall.

They say one man’s junk is another man’s treasure. However, with buying antiques I am purchasing history. At least that’s my view on it. I learned something else. I must be older than dirt. Items in antique shops are now the exact same objects I played with as a kid. My! It doesn’t seem to take long to get old or be a collectible. The real old antiques are getting harder and harder to find. So what about that little dish I paid a dollar for a few years ago? It’s going for $50 now. Crazy! Maybe I should stick to looking at Guernsey cows.