A Shed Door Is Open

"WHOA! WHOA! Whoa, whoa, whoa! BACK UP! THAT SHED DOOR IS OPEN! ….I ain't ever seen it open in twenty years… BACK UP! … GOOD!" said Lane (Lane Copper) and he got out of the truck.
We were coming down the mountain into an interior Maine village after a house-call-gone-bad …back up the mountain. Lane regularly takes me "on a call". Only about half ever produce purchased antiques. BUT I do get to spend the day riding around in the middle of nowhere with Lane AND do, half of the time, "buy something". Today's call… they "didn't want to sell". We headed home. We'd gone about four miles.
As I got out of the truck Lane was already rapping on the shed's door frame with his fist and yelling into the shed doorway "HEY ANYONE IN THERE ANYONE HI? IT'S LANE COPPER COMING BY THIS MORNING AND I GOT A FELLA HERE FROM THE COAST BUYING OLD TRUCK TODAY I SEE YOU GOT SOME TO SELL HE'S PAYING CASH!". An older man; an "old duff" (Lane's term) back in the shed started to appear from that interior looking just as blasted as you the reader after having that verbal barrage land upon him. He appeared to be putting away some cans of white house paint. "SELLING ANYTHING? YOU GOT ENOUGH I SEE!" Then "COME UP HERE!" he yelled to me waving his… old and ripped safety orange hunting sweatshirt covered arm… at me even though I WAS "here" and leaning hard on the door frame with the other arm while… the old duff kept coming to that door. "YOUR FULL AS MARTHA WASHINGTON'S ATTIC IN HERE SO LETS DO AH THIN'EN OUT… Jesus… CAN'T EVEN GET IN… DAMN TOOLS. HOW MUCH FOR THOSE?"
"I not selling THOSE" the duff said looking hard at Lane. " I USE THOSE. Do I know you?"
"THAT OLD TROUGH. TWO YEARS AGO. I BOUGHT THAT FROM YOU." shouted Lane.
"Trough?"
"BOUGHT IT CASH SHOW HIM YOUR MONEY!" he says turning to me. I promptly displayed a roll of cash with a rubber band around it… that… JUST HAPPENED to pop off right then… and… the cash dropped to the ground and… started to spread like …blowing leaves. "JESUS!" said Lane and started to grab twenty dollar bills including TWO right down in front of the duff as HE started to bend for them. "SEE HE GOT CASH WE'RE PAYING CASH FOR TRUCK LET'S SEE WHAT YOU WILL SELL HOW ABOUT THAT BASKET TWO DOLLARS CASH!"
"I USE that basket. My SEED basket."
"HOW ABOUT THAT ONE TWO DOLLARS"
"That one's BROKE! See. HOLE in the bottom."
"TWO DOLLARS".
"Two dollars? …You have that one."
"GIVE HIM CASH!"
I did.
"FOUR FOR THAT CHAIR!" pointing to a chair sitting on a bale of hay.
"No. I sit in that.
"UP THERE on the HAY? YOU AH CHICKEN? WELL TWO DOLLARS FOR THAT ONE NO ONE'S SITS IN THAT!"
"I used to… when I was a kid." The old duff said looking at a chair lying on it's side on a woodpile in front of a window. "Two… for that one… ….well … I guess so… take it"
"PAY HIM CASH!" Lane said to me pulling the chair off the woodpile. He set it outside the shed. Another basket fell off of the woodpile when he did this, along with a couple of cardboard boxes. He'd already handed me the first basket and it was on the ground behind me headed toward the truck. "ANOTHER BASKET TWO DOLLARS FOR THAT ONE TOO" Lane shouted. The duff picked up the basket, looked it over and handed it to Lane. I handed the duff two dollars. The duff looked at the, now, six dollars cash in his hand, squared it, folded it, put it in his shirt pocket and… looked up at Lane who immediately said "NOW THOSE WOODEN CRATES ONE DOLLAR EACH FOR AS MANY AS YOU SELL ME". The duff turned to the stack of crates just visible in the dim light back in the shed. We all stepped toward them… inside the shed.
An hour and one hundred and forty-seven dollars "CASH!" later we were …headed back down the mountain again only this time the truck was full. Lane was happy. Happy, HAPPY, happy; "a day's pay". "GIVE ME SUMP-THUN GIVE ME SUMP-THUN GIVE ME SUMP-THUN GIVE ME SUMP-THUN!" he was saying like he always does. I started handing him twenty dollar bills from my shirt pocket… as I drove. "THAT'S NUFF!" he said "You GOTTA MAKE SUMP-THUN DIDN'T DRIVE UP HERE FOR FREE GOOD DAY THOUGH… GOOD DAY YOU KNOW WHAT I'M KEEP'EN DON'T YOU TELL JAMES (James Hutton, the antiques dealer Lane is suppose to work for) YOU KNOW WHAT IT IS I'M KEEP'EN YOU DON'T TELL… YOU'LL GET IT ANYWAY AFTER I DONE LOVE'EN IT JAMES DON'T WANT IT IT'S BROKEN AIN'T IT A COCKER NO ONE ALIVE EVER BEEN IN THAT SHED IF THAT IN THERE NO ONE ALIVE I THE FIRST ONE WATCHED THAT DOOR TWENTY YEAR I TELL YOU NEVER SEEN IT OPEN.
One should be able to deduce that a day with Lane is a real antiques hunter's day. He found a decorated redware pie plate in the shed. Early (1820 or earlier), very authentic and having a very old and early chip out of it, he'd grabbed it right up and made me pay the "ONE DOLLAR BROKEN TOO BAD". He will keep that a year or two. Please notice that regardless of what one may feel toward Lane, he not only knows the antiques well but truly loves them.

"It's Been Two Years" - Part Eight - "He Did Not Suffer Fools"

"It's Been Two Years"

Part Eight

"He Did Not Suffer Fools"

            I have been writing of my professional ...and personal... “WHY?”... of old New England antiquities and their old New England homes ...where I find... my “WHY?” by ‘feel’ and....  I gave two examples just above:  That is... I recorded by specimen example... a twosome of “WHY?”.  I am not done.  I am very demanding.  I wish to reach my hand a ‘further in’... and close it upon my peculiar fixation of objects... ‘found within’... the old New England home. 

The home... in this case an old sea captain’s mansion... slipping toward wrecking.... on the rocks... along the rocky shore of... our ‘today’ ...in old New England ...has ME scampering up upon the rocky shore ‘to see’

            It

            Wreck?

            Cast away, washed ashore and... sold... in a yard sale of

            Heirlooms scattered across that front yard

            On a summer morning:

            “Isn’t it NICE the RAIN held OFF”.

            By last Friday... noting today is Tuesday... I ‘figured’ (felt) I could stop by and so found that... Cadence was a little surly.  I was not afraid of that.  I was... actually... pleased with her ruffled feathered state.  Her range of rage was not of her and I.  She ...stopping us just within her shed door... to seat us... for our...:  It was not a visit.

            I had a purpose.

            She had a purpose.

            Mine was planned.

            Hers was surly rage... released.

            I knew I was going to be writing the next missive chapter so sought an affirmation of.... a relic... that I had... recovered from the truck load of ‘her barn’ at the end of March.  I knew what it was... I just wanted her to tell me ‘it was’ ‘that”.  I wanted

            To be sure

            But:

            Cadence ...hissed... first:  “HE did not suffer FOOLS”.

            I ...ceased my urge to ‘exchange pleasantries’.

            “My MOTHER told me that.  SHE was told that by HER Mother.  And I... do not forget what I am TOLD.”

            Then... there was a silent... pause.

            “I have told HER that:  REMIND YOU I said.  And I told her that... I... will not suffer fools either.  And WHAT did I mean by THAT she said.  OH I said:  I am not a FOOL and so CANNOT be MOVED by a fool... to LIVE in a fool’s DUNGEON.  She turned blood red and sat there.  THEN she says to me... she says:  SO THEN... I must be the one who suffers THE FOOL?  YOU... are as much of a FOOL as HE NAMED the FOOLS he would NOT SUFFER”.

            This... then... became... my seated-in-the-shed doorway... THOUGHT... that said...:  “THIS is a fight... to a death?  THIS is a... but a... sister’s ‘cat fight’?  “THIS is a... ‘nothing’?”. There I rested.  Then I said:

            “The cats”

            “NO CATS”

            “No cats.”
            “NO CATS ALLOWED”.

            “Then that is that.”

            “No... she’s CALLING the HUMANE SOCIETY... she says.  You are NOT I said.

            “I AM TOO she said.

            “Then YOU... are a FOOL.”

            With this... oral drawn and quartered... Cadence’s hazel eyes flashed at my eyes. My eyes... were fixed upon the flat plane of my own face so... escaped being... poked out.

            “I” I started to say

            “ARE NOT able to ...do anything about this... so let us let THAT FOOL rest.”  The sonic roar of her hazel eyes dropped from my face.

"It's Been Two Years" - Part Seven - "The Old Sea Captain's Stuff" - (B)

"It's Been Two Years"

Part Seven

"The Old Sea Captain's Stuff"

(B)

            This fall (2014)... “WHEN”... Cadence is ‘moved’ from the Captain Snow mansion...:

            “WHEN” she is “MOVED”... this moment will be the

            FIRST TIME

            The Captain Snow (New England Federal sea captain’s) Mansion

            Has

            Ever

            ‘Been empty’:

            Having no one... from the Snow family

            Living in the mansion.

            This will be the first time that if... ANYONE... knocks on the door... no one from the Snow family AND... no one at all... will answer that knock on the door.

            The first time.

            Ever.

            Cadence knows this.  I know this.  Does anyone else know this?  When Cadence is escorted off HER property... the only living creatures in the Captain Snow mansion will be ...mice, rats, squirrels, bats... and the expectant gathering of stray cats about the ‘back door of the shed’...

            Waiting to be fed.

            This is not about a well kept mansion on a well kept New England (Maine) Village street in a well kept New England village with well kept citizens with well kept vehicles and well kept clothing upon well kept bodies with well kept hair carrying well kept church attendance and well kept schools with well kept....:

            This is “WHY?”

... burning in ...Hell.

            So I will change the “WHEN” of Cadence’s ‘escorted off her property’ to

            “IF”.

            And go off to poke at this ‘The Dreadful News’ from another reach... of my own hand... into the darkness... that IS THIS Old New England... as it really is.

            I

            Spy

            James Hutton’s old broken bowl... and let it rest in his hands... but never I... be I

            To forget.

            Never... ever... forget that bowl is broken; the old broken bowl

            That Captain Snow

            Held up to inspect with a

            Critical art eye of Asian ceramic study; a

            Bowl

            “I will bring back

            With me

            For her
            I love you”.

            IF... there is THAT bowl from ‘in there’ (the Captain Snow mansion) and THAT bowl is a broken bowl so ‘passed on’ though broken to be so broken that

            Finally

            No one

            For one

            Baby step missed

            It

            AND ‘EYE’

            ‘Got it’.

            We; Hutton and I, feel we know ‘what it is’

            And, of course, the criminal within the reader... knows

            “HOW VALUABLE”

            It is?

            But these criminal readers do NOT know “WHY?” of ‘what is next’?

            When Seacus comes back with each ‘load’ from the ‘cleaning out’ of the ‘remodeled’ apartment... he is the perfect man returning from the perfect task of ...perfectly... accommodating a perfect heiress to a ...very much NOT perfect old sea captain’s estate.  Helen... delighted in ‘selling’ Seacus “EVERYTHING” (the ‘cast off’ of HER choice found in the hoarder’s hoard of her basement rooms full of hoard of her hoarding... she... did that and does that still...:

            Seacus ‘barrel headed’ ‘everything’ “not nailed down” “I GUESS THAT CAN GO TOO.”

            And I sat on the OTHER END of that ‘that can go to I guess’ and... WELL:

            We all know NOW that Seacus as a picker had already rolled ALL the numbers over in his head on the ‘way over’ to ‘my place’ so... picker picking loads before a picker picking too that load... it is easiest to “just give you a price” “for everything” “except that maybe THAT ONE I keep out for Shirley SHE COLLECTS THAT you know”.

            So then I would ‘buy it all’ with ‘my money’ already doing that so I only had to hand over ‘his profit’ ‘on top of that’.

            And close the barn door... behind Seacus’ empty truck.

            And wait until he ‘went back’ to ‘do it again’ “NEXT WEEK I THINK OK”.

            And I already explained that ‘I don’t want that stuff’ ‘anyway’

            Because of the ‘way’ pickers feel about antiques so...

            “WHAT?” do I want?

            I want “WHY?”

            And the ‘old sea captain’s stuff’.

            And this is how... within this dainty setting...

            I get it.

            I wait... with Seacus long departed... and a darkness pestering behind the closed barn door.  OH of course I set out a ROCKING CHAIR for old Captain Snow to sit in while he ...screams at me.  Don’t I accommodate him... well... while he sits to watch ...his own estate...

            Go to Hell?

            And I sort it... I do.  Before his own eyes I sort ‘it’ looking for ‘just him’.  Do I find him?

            Of course I do.  And I find much more.

            Too.

            “WHAT COULD YOU BE TALKING ABOUT FINDING?”

            I find my “why?”

            And no one else is there... so it does become a very private “why?”.

            Two examples to show how this “why?” ...be:

            The ...old rose medallion teapot; from an abundant Chinese trade porcelain (1810-1860 best period) made for ‘export’ ‘to the west’... from the east... turned up with four ‘chipped’ plates... in a plastic (under the sink type) bucket... so I didn’t look at that at all until just the old Captain and I were alone... again.  HE... I feel... too knew that I KNEW that I FEEL that he HELD that teapot up for HIS EYE to see the “SHE WOULD LOVE”... “IT”... TOO so HE DID BRING it home and SHE DID LOVE and...

            Broken

            It was; it did become and cried

            She did so He did

            Take it down into the village to “HIM”

            “SEE IF YOU”, a country jeweler, “EVER” “COULD FIX THAT” (the broken spout) and “TOO” (the handle).

            And the jeweler did... that... by drilling... and stapling in BRASS while slipping LEAD into the spout to ‘cover the hole’ “THAT PIECE WAS LOST”.

            “It works again”; that teapot DOES... and ‘used it’ she did... ever after...

            Including

            The day

            She died.

            “OH forget the plates they are just fine with their ‘CHIPS’... but that TEAPOT

            SHINES

            From years upon the old broken teapot repaired... “SHE USED IT” dirty... dirty... tea stained DIRTY.

            And its LID is ‘missing too’.

            “REALLY?”

            “Broken?”

            “Too?”

            No...:  It is probably ‘still somewhere’ ‘in there’ (The old Captain Snow sea captain’s mansion).  Somewhere in there still ...is a little old WAFER of a ...Chinese export rose medallion LID... that I...

            Will never ever ever never ‘drive by’ that MANSION without saying

            To myself

            “It is in there”

            “Too.”

            THAT is ‘old sea captain’s stuff’ of “I seek” “WHY?”.

            The old captain just set in his chair... and watched while I

            Found that.

            But I shouldn’t be too nice about this for...

            I found so much ‘other crap’ that ...could only be

            “WHY?”

            Too.

            See now that Helen (Snow) Cransmore is a well done girl.

            A proper school dressed girl who has enough so she does not

            Look out over a kitchen sink much ever at all so CAN

            Hoard her self by herself with “I LIKE THAT” too so THAT

            Carries her whimsy UPON her breeding.

            And it is her breeding too; not the shoes she wears for those are only to

            Show

            Her breeding and that this ‘her’ cannot

            Be bought by them (the shoes) at all so:

            Yes that is right what I just said.

            And I know this very well because I can do that

            Too.

            That is why when my arm reaches to poke at a ‘that’ it is

            Qualified by my eye to be an interest-of to I

            And very usually reaches “why?”

            Without even my

            Very effortless try.

            It is a patch box*** true and I pictured it

            In my mind first although I ‘knew it’ already

            From my studies of these sorts of things and that it

            IS a ‘new one’ but what a one for HER (Helen) to

            Naturally (as meaning the same naturally as Cadence names

            Her cats)

            “Yes” for HER (Helen) to “PICK THAT ONE OUT” and keep it

            While throwing away the gift box

            Like a good Wasp family does and no framed photographs of

            “WHO GAVE ME THAT” also “TOO”.

            THAT is where their becomes a “WHY?” because I

            Can THEIR touch THEIR very reasoning for IT IS

            Old sea captain’s stuff THEIR TOO

            With its old boat on the lid ‘flying flag’ and INSIDE

            A saga born and IT TOO BE a

            Sea Captain saga

            From old New England too so that to Helen

            “Is perfectly normal” and understood “NATURALLY”

            to be the

            “ONE I WOULD HAVE PICKED OUT”.

            Set out; displayed.

            KEPT OUT a WHILE

            And then ‘put away’ for the

            “Remember that” so to

            “GO BELOW” the surface of her

            Hoarder’s hoarding to be LOST

            IN THAT SEA

            And die there drowned in a ‘box full of it

            “Is not old”

            “Pretty though MAYBE”

            “No...

            I let it go too”

Seacus says of it...

To it

In the palm of his hand.

            And then I look at it in the barn later in the palm of MY hand alone

            With the old sea captain himself rocking back a forth saying

            As to how that really is “WHY?” Helen.

            Too:

            “She is

            Shreve Crump and Low” he mutters over his old

            Cane top

            And through his mouth of crooked teeth.

---

***:  A true and classic English made Battersea Box; a small decorated enamel covered... upon base metal... box fitted with gilt gold plated brass hinge harness and here showing on its lid a sailing ship at sea flying a United States flag with interior printed text proclaiming this to be a fair representation of the “Master” “Benjamin Shreve”  ship “The Governor Endicott”, “1819”, “in Salem, Massachusetts” “ancestor” to the Shreve, Crump and Low (Boston) mercantile dynasty, “1800 – 1975” (this last date the commemorative date of this box’s make) and having a true English Battersea box maker’s mark; “Bilston and Battersea Enamels Halcyon Days, London”, on the bottom... in perfect condition and in perfect ...production... (meaning this is not a reproduction) of the ‘exactly be as’ the late 18^th century specimens.  This (1975) box would have been ‘gifted’ within a small jeweler’s style box, here ‘perished’ (thrown away)... as it should have been... in a good... old... New England... Wasp... home.

"It's Been Two Years" - Part Seven - "Old Sea Captain's Stuff" - (A)

"It's Been Two Years"

Part Seven

"Old Sea Captain's Stuff"

(A)

            In the early chapters of this antiquarian vignette... I ‘left hanging’.

            I left hanging that... in the fall of two years ago I ...with his consensual participation... ‘barrel headed’ Seacus and sent him off to Helen (Snow) Cransmore’s basement apartment ...below her home... that she had filled with her ‘hoarding of antiques’ AND... hoarding of ‘etc.’ too... to... as we surmised... ‘clean out’ that apartment so she could have it remodeled to... have her daughter and probable future son in law ‘be able to live there’.  We surmised. 

We succeeded in penetrating the hoard by purchased lot and... continued that penetrating purchasing for... the next year and a half until we had ‘emptied’ ‘it’ (the rooms).  The rooms never became truly empty.  We didn’t ‘get all that’ but we did a fine ‘thinning out’.  Hoarders... are skilled... and dexterous with their skills... at ‘keeping’ ‘that’.  But we; Seacus and I as a team... have.. ‘done good’ ‘in there’.  We are, at this precise moment (Spring 2014) actually ‘out’ meaning that we have no commercial pry bar at work... ‘raising’ any ‘antiques’ from Helen.  The apartment is ‘done’ (remodeled)... we understand... but ‘have not seen’.  “It”.

            “Yet.”

            “Oh.” said James Hutton... to me...  when I spoke to him about that... situation.

            I carried the ‘left hangings’ forward to March of this year and reported my ‘fill the oil tank’ emergency visit to Cadence Snow (Helen older sister)... in the family’s ancestral sea captain’s mansion ‘Defiance’ and how I ...when there... substituted her offering an heirloom tea service with my “I”... and “eye”... of gathering eight hundred dollars worth of ‘stuff’ in her barn to... ‘raise’ ‘the money’.

            Then I reported my return visit to Cadence; a courtesy visit (a courtesy for who?) a few weeks later and that:  THIS visit revealed “The Dreadful News” that Helen’s work on the apartment in her home was not for her daughter’s usage but to be the “WHERE” to put Cadence when ...Cadence... “IS” “MOVED OUT” of Defiance “YOU CANNOT STAY IN THERE ANOTHER WINTER”.  Despondent with this The Dreadful News, Cadence leaned it upon me in this second visit and I... with a save-self captivating scramble of ‘war plans’... suggested she could fight back against the move and WIN that fight by using her... VAST... and well known locally...  hoard... of ...old stray cats.

            These ‘left hangings’ were then truly left hanging for a ...raunchy recording of the two sided (‘the front and the back’) fatal formula of the ‘antiques store’ on the coast of Maine.  That... may well seem to be a great distance from Helen and Cadence but... I remind... that in their initial appearances in earlier vignettes (blog posts proceeding this longer extension of this old New England family saga) Helen’s first basement ‘selling’ in this saga was to James Hutton ...now truly understood as how he is... THE picker for THAT ‘antiques store’.  In the  middle of the serendipity of that ‘first basement sale’... there was noticed an ‘old broken bowl’ that I ‘wanted’, that Hutton would not sell, that he ‘displayed’ this bowl for his personal vanity AT the ‘antiques store’ AND THAT ... WE BOTH... understood this singular antique to be a... THE singular antique... that he ‘got’ from Helen that WAS FROM the old sea Captain Snow’s mansion and the HE; the old sea captain himself... had brought that ‘home’ to Defiance on ‘his ship’ from ‘a voyage to Asia’... during the... WHAT DATES?

            Well... as early as 1800... he went to sea... and ...he finished ‘aboard ship’... in the 1850’s ‘at least’ and ‘probably’.  He; the old captain... probably had ‘little love for (being on) land’.  That means HE ...would have preferred to ‘perish’ ‘at sea’ “if possible” “please”.  Hutton... feels... this.  I ...feel... this.  We do not THINK THIS.  Please understand the difference... in order to understand what is ...happening... ‘next’.  This leads to the “WHY?” at the end of the last chapter. 

            Do I want Cadence’s old tea service?  Of course I do.  Did I want the ‘stuff’ from her barn?  Of course I did.  Which do I want more?

            The stuff.

            Why?

            BECAUSE OF “or is it actually a WHY?”

            “I am seeking”.

            Returning to Seacus’ first commercial visit to Helen’s basement... hoard... WHAT... it is now becoming understood... was I... seeking... IF IT IS TRUE... that most antiques are not valuable and of, really, ‘no interest’ to... a veteran picker like I.  WHY BOTHER to ‘clean that out’ when all there be is a nominal monetary gain... for I?

            Because of the Hutton’s bowl.  That is why.

            I want that bowl.

            And

            Anything else that... is ‘like that’... from... ‘old Captain Snow’s... ‘estate’. 

I want the

“Old Sea Captain’s Stuff”.