Monday, January 13, 2014

Coy - Part Nineteen - "The Shoe Fits" - (A)


Part Nineteen

"The Shoe Fits"


            “It’s a slender peninsula.”
            I said.
            For each... of three... calling upon me... to be called... to order.
            The first slender peninsula is ‘in’ into the Savage estate; my two visits there, their favorable... it seemed to me... reception and... NOT getting called back.  This left me well ‘down’ a slender peninsula with an... ‘I’m standing here should I turn around and go back?’.  Or ‘wait’.  Or ...think I did “something”... “wrong”.  I didn’t do any of that.  Aside from noting to myself that the recent cold old barn contact suggested the historical society seemed... or somehow implied... along the way somewhere to someone... (the rare book consortium?) that ‘they’ ‘were’ regarding the Savage estate... WHAT? (Part Eighteen [E])  So I skipped that too and remained ‘huh’ to the whole estate and held steady on my “so I scratched her out” (Part Fifteen, at the very end).  Spring was coming.

            Antiques from old estates were... bursting... forth... from ... these old estates.  It is an annual Easter egg hunt for I:  “Poke around, discern, gather and put the ...pretty colored antiquarian treasures in MY basket then happily skip to the next ...old New England estate and... start poking around again.  “Spring!  Spring!  Spring!  “Everyone LOVES spring... “cleaning out”.
            The ‘a slender peninsula’ appears as one... or... should one... attach the vanity (of spring cleaning out... of old New England estates) to oneself and ...head off ‘down’ with that slender peninsula of vanity as the ... purposed source of success.  Most often this vanity appears as a... one sees an ...antiquarian... poking around... with a basket... they are ...endeavoring to... put ...pretty colored antiquarian treasures in... and ‘doesn’t like that’ so... have them (the poking around antiquarian) ‘called to order’ on their ‘doing that’.  The troublesome antiquarian’s vanity is what I call their being a ‘their-name-on-a-bag’ antiquarian.  This is to be distinguished from the legacy, raw, bare bones and... “NAME ON A BAG?” lacking... traditional New England antiques picker.  Purposing (presenting) that one is one... an antiquarian and/or rare bookseller... places a flag... high on a mountain top... flapping in the breeze... with YOUR ‘name on a bag’ Easter egg basket at it’s foot:  “WHAT HAVE WE FOUND HERE?” and having ... a ‘called to order’ inspection of MY basket... doesn’t happen.
            And it is fine with me if THAT happens to YOU.  YOU may explain a ‘why’ or  a ‘pay fairly’ of ‘make an appointment’ or SAND THE OLD ICE ON THEIR DAMN DRIVEWAY RIGHT UP THE FRONT STEPS THROUGH THE FRONT DOOR AND INTO THE PARLOR TO... sit down there and ‘discuss’ buying NOTHING.  I... am... ‘not there’ and ‘long gone’.

            This day had found me ‘picking’ with no overture... ‘along the (a labyrinth of tiny old streets) ‘wharfs’ of ‘Rockland’ (Maine).  No one else seemed to be doing that there.  “MUST figure it ain’t OLD and “COULDN’T” ‘have anything’ ‘there’... even though the area IS very old and densely ‘packed’ with ...old buildings... FULL... privately owned “BY” and... ‘dah, dah, dah, Spring is here’ and “LOOK THAT DOORWAY IS WIDE OPEN YOU’S GOT... SOME OLD... SELL THAT... CHEST IN THERE RIGHT THERE THAT ONE FIVE DOLLARS HERE CASH MONEY NOW I’LL GET IT RIGHT OUT YOU GOT SOME MORE RIGHT OVER THERE BUB TOO THAT THERE SEVEN BUCKS THAT ONE YOU HAVE IT IF YOU WANT IT NO JESUS THAT’S JUST OLD JUNK some of it MAYBE LET’S SEE ME... THAT CLUTCH... some of it BROKE; BROKE OFF that one WOULD HAVE BEEN A GOOD ONE NO THAT ONE you’s gonna NOT? WHEN?  HERE... how about ANOTHER FIVE but PUT THAT there; them damn TWO crates into it.  OK?  GOOD.”
            And THAT is a whole on and on of ...slender peninsula... THAT has NO VANITY, no vanity business card, a lot of rustic ‘Jesus’, rubber boots, rubber banded money wads, cigarette smoke, coffee cups, soda spills, behind the door beer bottles no telephones, no one calling their mother, no one getting “that dog – SHUT UP” groomed or ...walking around with a ...brightly colored paper shopping bag with their name on it and looking like they just bought a sweater from ‘one of ‘em STORES up to the MAIN STREET.  “OH... he PAINTED THAT... but he’s DEAD NOW probably... SAY... FORTY YEARS.  Dirty ain’t it SO... OK... ten bucks YOU SAY.”
            I hand him ‘two fives’ and put the PAINTING ‘on old board’... BEHIND the seat of the truck... even though I should have ‘just chucked it in the back’.

            I was coming back up THAT peninsula (...witch... is only about four or five blocks deep so ‘easy out’ but reminding that the coast of Maine is full of ‘twenty mile long at least FINGERS’... with old New England homes –and wharf sheds- ‘down and back).  I have perfected and PROTECTD my ‘this’ of antiquarian picker picking so KNOW that “I won’t see you have a nice day”.  Lunch is my thoughts.  Sandwich is on the seat.  “Going to call home... (remember ‘before cell’ those days?)... ‘at lunch “HI ANYTHING?”  “DEAR”.  “NO:  NOT BAD; got QUITE A BIT OFF AH ONE FELLA.  YEP.  NO.  WELL;;;;  MAYBE.  AH... JESUS:  WHAT does SHE WANT.  Oh Jesus.  OK, OK....  WELL I’m NOT THAT DIRTY.  What she EXPECT anyway.  CALL HER TELL HER OK I’ll be there OH JESUS in SAY an HOUR.”
            Down the third slender peninsula... I go... on ‘the way home’.  I get there; ‘MAKE the stop’.  At Janet’s (Parts Sixteen A,B & C) ...old New England home ‘fully (faultlessly/flawlessly) restored’ with her ‘what ever’ because I don’t bother to ‘remember’ what someone ELSE wants when I am out ‘of Spring’ gathering antiquarian Easter eggs.  Park, rear view face look, lock truck door (“Ha, ha – bad neighborhood” to self) knock, knock, admitted, to coffee table, second woman seated, Janet back to seated, on Victorian bigger than loveseat sofa too I ... into... a near new reupholstered ‘VICKEY’ (Victorian) parlor ARM chair ‘am I dirty there? (my butt).  OK seated... settle... down... now... slower... she ain’t’ gonna buy the painting behind the seat.  She ain’t gonna buy anything.  Slower.  Slow down.  Who’s that woman.  No idea.”
            “Smell like THAT TOO DO I my wife WARNED ME.  SORRY ABOUT THAT I guess.  Sort of.  DON’T CARE actually.  Nasty old FISH SHED is what it WAS.”
            Janet looks at me... approvingly.  {‘You’s been telling (your friend) TALES ain’t you’}.  “WHERE’S MY SILVER FORK?” I continue. (Parts Sixteen A,B & C)
            “It’s on the coffee tray.” Janet says gesturing to a ...tray holding coffee mugs on top of a... transitional-Victorian pedestal base card (or game)... table against the wall between two windows.  “He doesn’t like it when I leave the coffee on the coffee table.  He says the coffee table shouldn’t be here because the house was built before they’d invented coffee tables.” she said to her friend... who looked at her, looked at me, looked at the coffee table, looked at the coffee mugs and, finally, looked back at Janet.  Her left leg crossed her right leg as she sat on the sofa.  This leg showed me a ...perfectly pressed blue jean pant leg above a perfectly preserved-as-new ‘Topsider’ ‘with sock’.  This fitted shoe on her foot... nodded in an ...affected... knowing cadence that... TOLD ME... I was ...already... a long way down this third slender... peninsula.

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