Tuesday, May 19, 2015

Under the Porches; The Picker's View

Under the Porches; The Picker's View

            I hadn’t expected this to become a topic on
            Saturday morning
            At the flea market but.

            The day before I had
             And had
            So I just did happen,
            I guess,
            To be offering up my little something from doing that and
            Pretty much went to getting the negative side of doing that right off
            From the first two and then getting a
            Backup and thumb up from the third
            That morning (Saturday morning at the flea market) and he too
            (this third picker)
            Just flipped the first two off
            Just like I did,

            We said to each other right there that, for us, it is
            To NOT
            Crawl under the old porches... on an old house...
            To get (retrieve)
            What we find
            Doing that.

            I am not going to and was not
            Going to make any ‘much’ of this
Until the first
            Two were such ‘Flea Market Cry Baby’
            Assholes about it with that ‘their derogatory’ meaning that in addition to
            Having never ‘crawled one’ themselves they both
            Further belittled my ‘offering up’ from my
            Under-the-porch creep the day before.

*** :  A ‘picker’ is an antiquarian action figure and antiques (physical object) hunter who goes into old places to hunt for, find, buy and ‘bring out’ ‘old stuff’ that they then sell, usually wholesale, to ‘antiques dealers’.

            Sneering, they both said (it is worth) “NO MONEY” before
Religiously pointing out “THAT IT’S CHIPPED ON THE BASE”.
Both of them did this.
            OK I admit it was a mistake because I can sit here writing this and know in the
            God halo of truth that I did NOT look around and see if the chipped-off piece was
            There but
            It wasn’t and I... OK I SHOULD HAVE LOOKED AROUND BETTER
            Who cares... I was crawling on all fours; a man in his sixties
            Crawling under a porch like a kid
            For an old beer bottle.

            So those butt weeds didn’t even think you could do that;
Look for the chip of the “IT’S CHIPPED ON THE BASE”.
            “Holy Jesus”.
            And all that I found under there was a beer bottle OK?
            An OLD beer bottle.
            See what I mean; I didn’t think I was or would be making much of this.
            What do you want?  “Who cares?” or the “Holy Jesus”.
            Or maybe I should go back and look for the chip.
            No...:  That bottle went under there (the porch) with that chip. 
            I can tell by the wear; the crate wear
On the embossing and the chip’s edges.
That bottle was chipped and was still being used
            By the beer company.
They didn’t even think about it; the chip.  Just kept using it; that bottle.
            That’s the way things used to be done. (Now one recycles the
            Can or
            Maybe there IS a glass beer bottle but... that couldn’t take a chip like that
Old bottle did [does] and
            So that new bottle is recycled

            Ok; we’re getting this straightened out.  See what I mean about this
            Should never be ‘anything’.  But it did that (be an ‘anything)
            Saturday morning
            At the flea market
            After I retrieved (‘found’) the old beer bottle from
            Under the porch
The day before (Friday).

            I LIKE DOING THAT; crawling under old porches
            Attached to old houses
            And retrieving what I find
            From doing that.
            I ALWAYS DO IT; all of the old porches all of the time at
            All of the old houses.
            I retrieve whatever I find.
            And get it (what I find).  Most of the time the people (owners)
            Just give it to me.  Or sell it for like a buck.  Or something.  They look at it;
            What I retrieved and
            They don’t care.  “OLD BEER BOTTLE HUH” one of ‘em said.

            Mrs. McNeil; it was her MOTHER’S house.  And her friend.  Both of them were wearing their blue jeans but neither of them got dirty.  Her friend said the “HUH” about the beer bottle.  I only asked at the end (of our commerce) if I could have it (the old beer bottle)
            (With the chipped base.)
            I said “Do you want that?”
            They both said “No.”
            “Can I have it?” I said.  I knew I COULD have it.  It was actually WOULD they let me have it.  I knew that when I was saying COULD have it.  That’s not a small point.  I just made it sound like I was that stupid so they could
            Just flip it off on me; a ‘that trash’ old beer bottle I
            Found and retrieved from under her (Mrs. McNeil’s) back porch.

            That’s the part that you don’t
            See is the crawling under there;
            Me... crawling under there (the old back porch).  The whole neighborhood:
            It’s full of them.
            Old back porches.
            I’m crawling around that whole neighborhood
            They know me.  I’ve been around there a lot.  And everyone of ‘em (the houses)
            Have an old back porch.  So... LIKE:
            Anyway.  They all have a little door on the side too:  To go in there.
            UNDER the porch.  NO ONE goes in under there.
            I know that.
            And I get all kinds of stuff.  I find.  I haul it all out.  All of it.
            I want all of it.  They usually just give to me.  Everyone’s laughing
            About all that old crap ‘how’d it GET in there’ and no one cares.
            So I just found the one old beer bottle there but
            OK SO I knew what it was but I LIKED IT right off. 

            It was back by the foundation just inside the little door so
            I saw it BEFORE I went in; back in the corner, so
            I picked it off and then crawled to the far back.  I left it by the door.  I
            Could almost stand up at the far end but there wasn’t anything under there.
            I took the bottle out.
            I knew what it was with the cap still on it and the tied (matching) the embossing and the
            Paper label was obviously long gone.  So what.  It had been sitting in under there for a hundred years.
            NO.... not quite.  OK so...  yeah just the way the dirt on it’s neck did it for me.
            And the cap of course.  They drank that on the porch and hid the bottle.  Right there
            Standing up.  Really.  I touched it; first time in one hundred years?  You bet?  Probably only World War Two actually huh?

            It is so pretty being there; in there under the porch doing that:
Finding that dirty old beer bottle.
            With the chip on the base.  Yeah... really neat
            Especially the ‘your not there never will be’ A CRAZY MAN crawling in there.
            They say “HOW DO YOU FIND THAT STUFF?”
            That’s how you idiot.  Creepy
            Crawl ‘em I DO.  YOU NEVER did one NO just go to the flea market and wonder how some guy like me FOUND THAT HUH”.
            Maybe I should take it back and put it back and let them try to.  THEY DON’T
            EVEN LOOK at a porch.  Or an under it.
            “OH DIRTY”.  Even Mrs. McNeil knew better.  “WENT IN THERE” when she was “YOUNG” she told me.  Laughing about it we were.  A big grown man like me doing that.  “CAT HAD KITTENS IN THERE ONCE MOTHER SAID”.
            Well it is nice and dry in there; back against the foundation so I SUPPOSE.
            Too bad there weren’t something better under there than that
            Old chipped base beer bottle.
            Of course I like it pretty much enough finding it that way anyway.
            It’s not about the damn money you fool.  Glad it is chipped I SAY.
            Keep ‘em back at the flea market.
            “Dirty” they say
            “Chipped and dirty”
            Why that ain’t DIRTY in under there.  THEY don’t know NOTHING about dirt
            THEM... it’s cleaner under that old PORCH than the FRONT SEAT of their CAR.
            Jesus.  They should TALK about DIRT.  I’m GLAD the damn bottle’s dirty.  I’d
            NEVER wash it.  MAKES IT RIGHT that old dirt on it.  INTERESTS ME I say.

            Nice of Mrs. McNeil
            To give it to me.
            “Of course it’s CHIPPED” she said.
            That ain’t the POINT.  I didn’t say that of course.
            Her old uncle drank it I bet.
            Then stowed it.  Under.
            Don’t I make you want to crawl UNDER ONE huh?
            You’d find that.  You’d keep it.  HAUL IT OUT.
            Don’t you LIE to me.

1 comment:

  1. A quart beer bottle, perhaps one of many, shared and consumed as in Steinbeck's "Cannery Row". Things were different then, better and worse. The bottle remains as a witness, never to testify. Just, seeing it, I can put together a fitting story.