Don't Get Too Involved

We humans are generally a pretty darn curious bunch.

If you are a really curious type, that can work in your favor.

Having that urge to know what is behind a door, around a corner, underneath a pile of junk, etc, can lead you to treasure.

It can also mess with your head....

One of the things I discovered early in my pickin' career was that there is a fine line between "research"and "obsession".

When you are dealing with situations like sorting/digging through estates of deceased persons, it is sometimes tempting to take some time to read personal letters, diaries, etc.

Frankly, sometimes that is actually something I'd recommend doing.  This is how fantastic "true story" movies get made, books are written, mysteries are solved (and created), etc.

But, there is a fine line between "research"/"due diligence" and "obsession".


Someones innermost fears, confessions, desires, etc, are quite likely things that person did not intend to ever reveal to another soul. the opposite may well be true in the minority of cases.

Perhaps the individual wanted the world to know certain things, but could only reveal them after their passing.  Many times this is owing to living a lifetime with some piece of knowledge they could not speak of when they were alive.  Those pieces of information, say, something like having been witness to/participants in some horrific war crime, murder, theft, etc may have created a burden that built up emotional scarring in their shadowy corridors of their mind.

Usually, however, the letters, diaries, documents, etc of most people are pretty "blase." Videotapes, home movies, audio recordings etc are similar, but require some sort of additional effort beyond manipulating paper.

The day to day lives of those who lived through other eras can be interesting, and reading their writings really can open a window in the fabric of time allowing you to see what it was like living in World War 2 England,  the "dirty thirties", a life of hard rock miner, a musician, etc...a peak into the past. Sometimes the past is not that far past....could be a  last week, allowing you to walk a block in the deceased person's shoes.

Thing is,  you can VERY easily get WAY too involved in a person's life.  Reading bare, raw emotions written as words on a page by another can put you right into that person's head, and your mind becomes intimately involved.  You may even learn things you really did not want to know.

It can be like watching a movie that suddenly has a scene that is imprinted on your mind, and there is no way to erase it. A particular clip in John Water's cult classic "Pink Flamingos" left one of those images branded in the folds of my memory....And no, it isn't the one where Divine eats dog crap, either. I am not really a John Water's fan...it was one of those "arty" movies you get dragged to see by friends, some with good intentions, trying to expand your intellectual horizons. Or, they may  just want to enjoy the thrill of shocking the shit out of you....no pun intended!

If you do find assorted documents that have some historical value, or maybe the blockbuster "true story" movie or book/biography that is potentially the find of the decade...well, ok, fine, read away. Figure out what you need to keep using the info on the pages, and go from there. It is surprising the "regular everyday items that can suddenly be very important in the telling of a story, confirmation of an event, etc.

Who knows....you know that that old $15 fountain pen, which you packed up yesterday.... the one you found in the junk drawer in the kitchen? A little reading reveals that it was used for the signing of a historic document.

AND one of the signer's included was John F Kennedy, AND the pen was given to him by Marilyn Monroe.

AND you have documentation in your hot little hands that tells of how it was accidently left behind in a cab, which was being driven by the deceased when he was working as a taxi driver.

AND he picked up a man who turned out to be a disguised JFK.  The candid photo with the letter, JFK autograph on the period dollar bill really adds credibility. Only further reading tells you of the fingerprint work on the pen stashed in a baggie had been done some years later by a policeman buddy, and the 3 different prints have been proven to be those of Marilyn Monroe, JFK and the deceased!

AND more reading reveals that those very documents are hidden in a secret compartment.... of the very desk you are sitting at!

$$$$$ KA-CHING! $$$$$

Yes, doing a bit of that sort of visual/mental digging, reading, and research can pay off. Maybe it won't be a score like the fantasy situation above, but it the writings could result in a lead to other treasure. Perhaps you find out that the deceased went to a baseball game with an uncle as a child, and describes how Joe Demagio autographed the 4th page of the child's scribbler.
Oddly enough, the description of the type of scribbler matches the stack of tattered old notebooks you just put in the recycling pile.  Some of that sort of "life" writings can be as good as a pirate's treasure map!


BUT, if you find the writings consist of the usual day to day existance of an average person, with the usual ups and downs, tragedies and triumphs, you might want to just dispose of the items, maybe saving the stamped envelopes for collector purposes, the "certificate of achievement" due to it'd related collectible in whatever field, (etc) and get rid of the rest.

Getting all wrapped up in other people's lives whom you do not know may give you insight into them, their actions, their possessions, and their former earthly surroundings, but it can also make a mess of your own psyche.  Re-living tragedies (which is what people tend to write about far more often than triumphs) which occurred in someone elses life, consumed via intimate ways such as reading diaries, trigger serious symptoms of depression, anxiety, etc in some people. 

A thick skin for such things is something you will need to develop if you get really hands on, and digging through physical remnants of someones lifetime.  It can also be disturbing, and you do sometimes need to take a step back and say "whoa." Sometimes you need to take a break, or a long walk to clear your head.

I can assure you that the VAST majority of you out there really do not want to read a  highly descriptive, multi-page manifesto of someone's sexual fantasies involving the local Lion's Club president and the local zoo's resident sea lion....


It can also be a heck of a time waster. Say you are going through an estate that you HAVE to have cleared out of a house within a week. You find a shoebox of love letters, evidence of a torrid extramarital affair the deceased had...and your reading of the 400 plus pages of back-and-forth lust and drama takes over your entire day.

* POOF *

You realize that your take-out pizza is now cold, your beer or soda (or both) are warm, the sun has set...8  hours have disappeared. To top off the loss of work time,  you absorbed/experienced someone else's stress, heartbreak, anxiety, desire, confusion, etc...piling it up in your mind....and none of it even belongs to you.

Hopefully you can let it go...but odds are that many items you handle in the estate will trigger something you read to flash into your mind.

AND now you have one less day to do what YOU need to do.   Break away from it....because a plumber and his male accountant lover's escapades is really not what you need to focus on. AND when you find the wife's box of love letters to her BDSM lesbian dominatrix with the school lunch counter job, toss them out in the shred/recycle pile, too. 

Make good use of your time. Bad use of your time involves reading a woman's diary about the daily beatings she received at the hands of her drug addicted husband, who had been sexually abused by the Parish priest....yes, she really thought she could "fix" him....yes it is tragic, but just toss that diary aside.

Those parties involved have been dead and gone for 60 years. That time you spend reading really could  be spent finding some really cool, really valuable stuff.   If the writings have some relevance to some criminal case, reveals potential living victims,  etc, well, then you have a moral call to make, as you may have important evidence that may need to come to light.

There are lots of great stories out there, and those out of the ordinary that need to be told should be told.

The majority of stories out there should be just laid to permanent rest with the deceased.

Happy New Year!

Let's crack open that 40 year old bottle of good scotch you picked from that estate last spring!

Pour everyone a glass, and have a toast.....not too much, there are 30 followers to the blog, so ,make sure we all have a taste...and I am sure some of us are going out to see what antique shops are having new years days specials, and hitting flea markets, etc.,...plus, we need to be coherent and alert to do some internet sales work done, auctions set up, etc......Sure we all still have lots of bills to pay!

*aruumppft-umm* (Clearing throat of 2010's attic dust)

 Here is to a  year of happy, successful, fun, safe, pickin' in 2011!

C'mon, slug it down!

*haackckkfff * WHEW * Good stuff! * I hope my throat doesn't have holes burnt in it... *

Ok, now the New Year's Day formalities are over with, back to business...

Well, lets make it Pickin' School, for you...

So, being the first day of school, I am just going to let you know sort of what you are in for.
I will be doing a few "How To" videos on YouTube, as well as a few others for entertainment. I'll show you a few tips, tricks, and methods for cleaning things, searching things out, do's and don'ts, stuff you might need when picking, etc.

I have picked (and still do) a variety of places, using a variety of methods, and styles, depending on the place,time, and others present.

 I scan thrift stores/junk shops/antique shops, attend antique/farm/weekly/surplus auctions, scan classifieds in the newspaper/online, buy directly out of old stores, clean "junk" out people's garages, attend yard/garage/estate/basement/porch/patio sales, pulled stuff out of dumpsters/trash cans/middens/ditches/garbage bags/trash trailers/outhouse holes/scrap piles/scrap yards/dump pits/demolished buildings/etc, bought items from online sellers' stores/auctions/ads/etc....and the list goes on.

Over 20 years in the business, and at least 10 years prior to that, being fascinated by the world of "junk".

Lots of experience. I've barely scratched the surface in revealing to you the things I know, have learned, and am still learning.  Odds are, there are things you know that I do not. Our paths in life teach us different things.

Keep that in mind. 

Oh, I said I'd only just let you know what you are in for, didn't I? Made it sound like there was no lesson plan for today.......and here I am already instructing....AH, ok, so I guess you will have to learn a little today....

And everyday for the rest of your natural life.

No, I am not kidding. You do learn everyday. If you think you haven't learned anything new, you either have been sitting on your butt with your eyes closed & ears plugged, sleeping, or, perhaps you are dead.

And, frankly, there are no zombies allowed in this class.....nothing personal, but you guys tend to be rotting corpses, and really stink up the place...makes it hard for other students to concentrate.....not to mention all the flies you attract.

Everyone can remove your the clothes pins from your noses...the place will air out in a few minutes...And just let them keep the vintage clothing on their backs, ok? Most of the stuff is in way too rough of condition, anyway, and, you'll never get that smell out.
You DO learn everyday. You need to take notice of this, and utilize it.  If you feel you haven't learned anything in a day, then TRY to learn something. Flip open a reference book. Get online and do a random search on something or some object you saw last month in a book, at a shop, or heard about. Read some history on someone, somewhere, someplace. 

You might be surprised how that little bit of knowledge turns out to be useful someday.  Out picking the countryside, and you are in some small town? Taking a lunch break? The bright orange vinyl on the booths is worn, torn, stitched, patched, and the wood grain arborite table top is worn to a plain beige in 4 spots...just tells you where to put your plate, that's all. Apparently they serve damn good food here. Yeah, the locals are giving you the once over, just ignore 'em....you'll get used to it. Don't make a face, be polite, pleasant even, smile, nod...that is it. You may end up buying something from one of them today.

Hey, here is the bowl of stew you ordered. Smile and thank the waitress now...this isn't MacDonald's..and I believe her and her hubby own the place. Pretty sure I saw him in the kitchen. Plus, you might want to see if you can pick the basement here...the floor sounded a bit hollow when we walked in, and aside from the booths, the decor is decidedly authentic 1950s small town diner. Oh, and you can still see some of the marks on the old tile floor where the diner style counter was, and the stools were screwed down...maybe they are still in the back shed or basement.

Enjoying that home made stew? Pass it over here for a second, and meanwhile, look out the window of the cafe; at the buildings across the street. You found out that the building used to be a Masonic Hall. No, they had nothing left in it, it got hauled to the dump last year, but you have a chance to learn something that you won't get a chance to tomorrow.

 It is covered in that corrugated steel sheeting now, but examine the shape, form, some of the tell tale hints in its structure, window placement, etc, that identifies it as a former Masonic Hall.  The next one you pass in a town, that has been refaced/renovated you will suddenly see it as a Masonic Hall, and not a modern storefront, and prompt you to investigate further. But in that one, the basement and second floor are still FULL off great fraternal items...and the building owner is all too willing to sell you the stuff, and his prices are bargain basement...he's overjoyed to not have to clean the place out himself....he doesn't have to lift all that old heavy, chunky carved oak furniture. "Antiques? Pfffttt. OLD FRIGGIN' JUNK is what it is" he says (but uses a stronger F word.) He even seems to find it amusing you are paying him for it. Yeah, you could have gotten it for free, but you'd also likely have had to take out all that trash, too. We don't have that kind of time..would cost us 2 nights in a hotel, food, etc...and likely have to pay for a new change of clothes, too. I'm not keen on the overpriced polyester duds from the late 1990s the local clothing store had.

MMmm-mm...That was good stew...Here's your bowl back...you need to wipe that gravy off your chin there, by the way.  Finish up your Coke, we need to hit the road....only so much daylight to work by. You get the check, ok? Oh, and don't forget the tip...say, 20% of the total, before tax.

Ok, now, hurry up...did you use the washroom? I won't want to have to stop 15 minutes down the road to let you out....

What? You are still hungry? Well, I think I have a half bag off chips in the van from a picking trip last week.   You can munch on them on the way to our next stop; I'll  continue the lesson after we get there.

Yeah, I know you forgot to ask about picking the basement of that cafe. Don't worry, I've been there, done that...found some cool stuff. We'll chat more later...and try to keep your crunching quiet....I wanna listen to this cool tune on the radio.  LET'S GET ON THE ROAD AND DO SOME MORE PICKIN'!

More Cautionary Tales...

If you know you are invincible, you can skip this bit of friendly advice.

I was first going to work on a blog of my recent trip to Winnipeg.

However, over the past couple days, while browsing pics in a few folks Facebook photo albums of places they have been into, I took notice of a few. They made that exclamation point jump out of the top of my head like in cartoons...

Aren't I talented?

Anyway, the various pics showed some rooms, or rather, areas/corners/ceilings of rooms. The one thing they had in common was they had black stuff in spots on various parts of the walls/ceilings/stuff.

And what was this black stuff?

It is highly likely it was black mold.

No, not Beverly Hillbilly Jed's black gold...but, black MOLD.

Good old Stachybotrys.

You can click on the word there, for a definition if you like, But, Y'all come back now, ya hear?

You back?

Good...

So, anyway, as you have possibly read (or already know), it can be nasty stuff. Looks innocent enough, but a bomb can look innocent until it goes off.

I had my own nasty encounter with it, and man, it really messes with your head & body. Created things like depression, physical weakness, breathing issues and more. Went from being quite fit to getting winded going up a single flight of stairs. I wasn't able to lift things I had no trouble lifting a few months earlier. I find I am now really sensitive to it, and can tell there is some in any building I go into, just by my body's reactions.

I won't bother going into further details, as there is enough info online as to what it can do to you. Your imagination can take it from there.

So, get familiar with it, and if you are involved in a situation where it is growing, especially in abundance, wear a respirator type mask that can filter out the spores.

NO, one of those cheap WalMart dust masks won't cut it.

Plus, when you bring items into your home, storage, etc, that is from a building where that mold is, you are bringing spores into your own space.

I don't want to create paranoia, as it is going to happen in this business, it is just a fact. But, you can take steps to prevent excess exposure. Sealing items in a bag prior to putting them in your vehicle, washing them well, DRYING them well, etc before your bring them into your shop, house, storage, etc will all help.

There is all sorts of info on what kills mold and what doesn't. The information I found is that bleach actually isn't strong enough to eradicate it. The company who cleaned the mold from the building I was renting, which was the source of my problems at the time, used a product called Benefect. It was actually safer to humans than bleach (you could drink it without ill effects), but deadly to mold.

They also filled the place with ozone, which kills everything.

I have no idea what long term effects the exposure will have on my health. I guess we'll see. I know it has affected my lungs, and has increased my sensitivity to dust and other things.

SO, if you are out picking or just exploring old buildings, take my advice, and wear a decent mask into those damp basements, buildings, etc. Will be cheaper to buy a decent mask than pay for the long term effects the stuff could have on your health.

Another thing that concerns me as of late, with the interest in picking brought out by the popularity of the TV program American Pickers (History Channel), is the issue of private property.

Just because a building is alone, unattended, looks abandoned, etc, etc, DOES NOT mean it is not valued, ripe for raiding, etc.

I go to great lengths to find out who owns the buildings that I am interested in digging through.

There is actually a couple reasons for this, and one that you are likely unaware of, or have not thought of.

One is that I can legitimately be there, without any concern about looking up into a rifle barrel as rise up from picking something up, or perhaps a shotgun blast of buckshot or rock salt peppering my body, or being pulled over by the police later and charged with theft.

I will buy the items I want, (or occasionally I will be told to take what I want, but I always try to pay them something if there is anything good) and thus have no worries.

Another reason to get permission is that they will know you are there....to rescue you from the cellar when the stairs collapse, you get stuck in the hole you stepped through in the floor of the attic, etc.

Or, at least, they will know where to generally look for your body.

Scary, yes, but factual. It CAN happen. Even seasoned pickers sometimes get into what could be dangerous situations, and ones that, while they make good stories (like the one you will read below) they could have had very different endings.

And that story?

I checked out a barn, with old field stone foundation, and stalls that were made of more field stone and concrete, and an old concrete floor.

Was magnificent in its day, for sure. Likely the creation of a wealthy farmer, circa 1890.

It had a huge lower portion, and a split level loft.

The half with the upper portion of the loft had not been used for a much longer time than the rest of the barn, and thus, the roof over this portion had been neglected longer. There was light streaming through the boards on the roof, shingles long gone. The walls also had sunlight streaming through them, their once tight joints opened by years of wind & dust, then dampness & rot.

I viewed this picturesque sight through a door about 3' off the floor of the lower section of the split level loft.

It was pretty much empty, save for a few scattered planks..and a lone crock, about 20 feet away from where I stood.

It was a 2, maybe a 3 gallon; that I could tell by its size. A whitish glaze, so, in this area of the country, it was quite likely a Red Wing.

But, I could not tell if it was a birch leaf, had a printing variation, was an advertising crock or was just blank.

I'd have to turn it around to check for those things. There was no chance of climbing up the other side of the walls and peer through the boards, it was just way too high up.

The reason I was not about to just hop into the loft and walk across the floor was the fact that there was not a chance in Hades that the floor would hold me.

I suspected they were barely holding the weight of the crock. The once tight floor boards now had about a 1/2" of space between them, like the walls, except more extreme.

I could clearly see the 2' thick field stone stalls, the tops of which were easily 12 or more feet below me.

Yes, this barn was HUGE.

The fact that I could not see the other side of the crock annoyed me, and I soon figured out that the beams were essentially solid, being that they were very thick, and only had a small amount of surface rot on the tops. There looked like there were a few planks within reach of the door, and a few further out, between the crock and myself, that I could create a bridge to crawl over.

So, I grabbed the first board within reach....and set it down, across the closest beams...and then quickly rejected the idea..it didn't seem very solid either. I grabbed a much wider and solid one, and put it down beside the reject.

The start of my bridge!

I lifted myself carefully through the door, and onto the first board.

I reached out, and grabbed another plank nearby.

Hmmm..the end of the line...no other planks within easy reach. No problem, I would just grab the first one, and put it in front of the other one.

I then repeated the process.

I then managed to grab another nearby board, then another, and another.

The crock was finally within reach! A TRIUMPH!

I reached over, keeping myself steady on the boards, being ever so careful, and grabbed the crock.

To my dismay, the bottom of the crock stayed right where it was. It had had water in it form the rain, frozen, then cracked it.

Crap.

It was an error crock, but Mother Nature had rendered it worthless with her powers.

Well, I had come all this way across the gap toothed floor...and a Red Wing crock would look good in my garden....and I wouldn't have to worry about the bottom popping out of it in the winter now, would I? And, I wouldn't have to actually water the plant I put in it, either...with the access it would have to the ground. Genius!

So, I carefully turned around, walking on my knees and hands, and carefully made my way back towards the door. I moved the boards in reverse order, using only two for most of the last half of my knee splintered journey.

Nearing the door, I, for some unknown reason, stood up.

No, I didn't go through the floor....

Well, not until I stepped forward towards the door, on the reject board.

CRASH...!

I suddenly had one leg dangling in the air above the rock and concrete stalls far below, and my crotch was resting on the floor, with one leg splayed out, angling the rest of my body awkwardly on the floor of the loft.

My thought was: "Now that was stupid."

I waited a minute for my heart to go back to my chest, from its position in my throat. I then carefully assessed the situation.

I was still holding the crock in one hand.

More importantly, I was basically straddling a beam.

WHEW.

That's a relief.....wasn't about to fall right through, as long as my earlier assessment of the beams was accurate, and it wasn't rotten, also.

I carefully set the crock down, reached back, and grabbed the piece of wood I had stepped off of into my near death (or at least a near foray into extreme injury), set down alongside me. I positioned it so that the one end was near the door, as I still had to have something to stand on to exit the loft.

I also made sure the plank was carefully angled across a couple beams, with the ends resting on beams. Got to make sure I wasn't making a see-saw of death.

Leaning on it, I gingerly pulled my leg up through the hole, and positioned myself on the plank.

I took a deep breath of relief, and shakily got out of the loft, trying to softly land on the floor of the lower loft, lest the floor gave way.

I then turned around, and grabbed the "prize" I had just risked my neck for.

I still have it, though it is now for sale....price: $5...makes a great planter!

Hmmm...come to think of it, it might be more valuable as a little reminder....