A month ago I spent a Saturday surrounded by overall-wearing
farmers, random dealers, and few people under the age of fifty. Pete’s Auction,
three miles away from my house, was hosting a tool auction. I have been to the house
wares and antiques auctions many times, but have never made it to a tool one
before. Mom went a few weeks back and came home with dozens of drill bits and
several power tools, all at bargain prices. Someday, when I am engaged or
married, I’ll have to go with my man to a tool auction just to stock his
handyman space.
This particular auction had a slightly different tone,
tables overflowing with antique planes, woodworking chisels, saws, axes worthy
of Gimli, and a hammer for everything. Though interesting to look at, most of
these items were of no use to me. Even the saws I passed over, remembering that
I still needed a job before I could get a house in which I may even need one.
But I settled on a short list of well-made, everyday items that I didn’t yet
own or could use to replace cheap alternatives. I wrote my maximum bids on my
card and awaited the proper moment. Sadly, I didn’t have a chance at obtaining
the brass and wood drafting square from the 1920s with elegant measurement
inscriptions. And the similar, collapsible ruler was grabbed in a choice offer.
But I did snag a sturdy, brass-edged yardstick that looks like it could last me
a lifetime. It looks like it already has served someone else for that long.
Surrounded by tools, I realized that I didn’t happen to own more than a tack
hammer, so I got a regular hammer that fits my hand comfortably and seemed
weighted for most common projects.
At the end of the day, I wondered if it really was worth all
that waiting and the slight disappointments. Then I remembered that I’d never
see that kind of stuff again. Inside my head is a treasury of times past. And
in my home will be a small nod to those days. It’s true sometimes: they don’t
make ‘em like they used to.
