Teddy Squirrel 1946-2017

Teddy Squirrel 1946-2017

            “Teddy come in the shop the other day.  Noth’en:  Brought noth’en IN.  BOUGHT noth’en.  Took noth’en OUT.  WORTHLESS as the day I was BORN.  He’s in pretty bad shape you know.  Not just FAT but CAN’T DO noth’en.  Huff and puff over to his chair.  Biggest damn chair I got.  He don’t even know what THAT IS.”

            (The “chair” is a transitional New England Sheraton wingchair circa 1825.  It’s the last gasp of the true period; “of a design period”, wingchair.  ‘Heavy’; carrying these late lines, it is actually a rare New England form to find for the wingchair ‘died out’ as a design form with the Empire and then Victorian period styles ‘seating’ innovations.  Not that Teddy would know or care).

            “He sat in that damn chair eating Gingerbread Men.  Six of ‘em.  Offered one to me.  I said NO.  First he eats their feet.  Then one bite on their crotch.  Two bites for the arms.  Then one bite for the head just like that’s a fifty cent piece.  Always offers me one whatever it is.  Mostly molasses cookies.  Sometimes a Hermit.  He likes those you knows.  Says (local one of two Brunswick Maine area box store grocery bakeries) ‘MAKE A GOOD HERMIT’.  Sumpthin else he being a FAT ONE ain’t he!”

            “Teddy” eats cookies in front of me all the time too.  With his little cup of Styrofoam coffee.  Little cup he throws out in my trashcan.  Just like Pigpen he is; traveling trashcan filler.  Always eating a BAKE GOOD.  Brush the crumbs off his belly on to my rug.  Says doing that (brushing the crumbs) is his “exercises”.  All that with the huff and puff.  He won’t be able to get around much longer the way he’s headed.  Not much I can do about it:  I’m not a first responder.  When he’s down they’re gonna need a BUCKET.”

            “She’s wear’en THEM old PEARLS.” Teddy said to me.  “THAT’S HOW I know that she’s RICH.  OLD greasy PEARLS.  Been around her neck since she was BORN and her Grammy DIED.  Awful old pearls GREASY yellow from her neck.  That yellow comes from the STRESS on her NECK try’en to HOLD that family together.  Them new girls THINK pearls are WHITE just like their idiot TOO WHITE teeth.  Smile at me with noth’en BEHIND THAT all day long.  Just awful.  BE-LITTLE her old yellow neck they do her.”

            Teddy’s talking about Barbara; “Aunt Barbara” they call her.  Has more good taste than a bucket orchard of (Maple) sap pails.  Don’t they know nothing them Strip Mall Women Wasps.  Do.  Know nothing.  “You buy pearls and hang ‘em around your neck”.  That’s what they think that is; their CLASS.  But it run afoul don’t it.  And even Teddy know that.  Don’t he.

            Now Barbara’s yellow neck pearls match her teeth that she don’t ever show off.  They didn’t have cosmetic dentist work when her teeth were in combat.  Don’t think she don’t know it.  She knows what ‘tight lipped’ means.  That’s right above her pearls.

            “Teddy” they call him; “Teddy Squirrel”.  That’s not his front name.  It’s his behind the back name.  Stuck.  They call him “MISTER Squirrel” too:  That’s right; MISTER Squirrel with the MISTER being just what you think it is.  Even Barbara calls him that... right to his face too.  “What you eating today Mr. Squirrel?  Scottish Shortbread from my Grammy’s old Christmas tin?”  She says to him.  With her crooked yellow teeth and old dirty yellow pearls.  I don’t have to be there to ‘I suppose’.

            Barbara set me over a woman looking for glassware.  It took eight or nine months but she’s starting to buy some better things; American, New England ‘pressed glass.  Takes a while for them to understand the quality and the feel of that quality.  For example, one is not gonna feel the quality if you wear new shiny white pearls you just bought at a Women Wasp strip mall.  Barbara says that.  She was given her old dirty yellow pearls by her grandmother who wore them until the day she died.  Now don’t go saying Barbara didn’t take them off her dead neck herself.  Because she did.

            She put them on that day and never took them off.  Hasn’t yet.  Even though she’s getting demented.  You okay with that?

            Anyway, this woman she sent is suddenly looking at the early English dark blue Staffordshire Transferware.  I have some on a shelf.  She called it “Flow Blue”.  I tried to correct her noting that this early dark blue came earlier; 1800-1825 and that (the) Flow Blue is Victorian 1850’s.  I know she didn’t get that yet.  But.

            She told me she wanted to buy a damaged creamer she looked at ($65.00).  Nothing has come of that yet.  But that’s a start.  I told her that this early blue ‘sends the right message.  To women like Barbara.  She knows what that means and wants to do that.  “We’ll see” won’t I.

            Teddy don’t ....ahhhh.... the ‘dark blue’ or its message anyway.  Oh he’s seen it on the shelf but never goes near that.  No... he’s always got some halfway antique commonly called collectable he’s in some state of ‘found out’ with and, well, wants me to help him ‘go from there’ with it.  For no money for me.  He’s Mister All for Me, None for You.  I can see him coming so, like, that’s that.

            “Those are Victorian pearls.  That’s why they are like that.  They are real ocean pearls.  Not today’s grown and harvest garden pearls.  This string are all old and all wild.  That’s why they look like that.  They are old and on their original wire.  That’s why they cost so much.  They are hard to find and when I find them many times they are not for sale.”

            That was a fair promotion I listened to a dealer puff.  Then she backed off.  The customer; a boyfriend – girlfriend team, ‘weren’t there yet’.  Takes a while.  Takes a long time to turn a pearl necklace yellow from an old neck.  But I said to her that it was a pleasure watching her puff that quality.  Stick to the classic but in their best state; best ‘how they got here’.  That’s what the antiques are you know.  They are something you can’t get anyway else.  They are old and are that way because they ARE old and have, too, the qualities of that age and this, too, makes them more singular.  Antiques are not found in strip mall stores with vanity labeled store bags having a stupid name printed on them.  They are found around the neck of a dead grandmother.  That’s where antiques come from. 

            Now Teddy, he don’t know any of that to act on.  He do know a little something from breeding, upbringing and ‘way its suppose to be’.  He likes that raspberry jam the Trappist Monks are suppose to make.  But that is hollow and we all know that.  What Teddy don’t know is the best raspberry jam is made in August by the old historical society ladies.  But even that’s second fiddle to just mashing the raspberries up and slopping them on top of vanilla  ice cream.  Teddy just don’t know how good that can be.  Everyone of them damn historical society women have an old pearl necklace around their old necks too.  And know it; know that too.

            Do they eat the raspberry ice cream with silver spoons?  Yes they do.  Do they spoon their homemade raspberry jam with a silver spoon?  Yes they do.  Does Teddy notice this.

            No.

            He’s over there with the Trappist Monk raspberry jam oration he repeats, without modification, each August.  You ever seen him with a smeared goo-gob of that jam on his tie?

            I have.

            He never notices it until it’s too late.

            But I do say this for him:  He wears his clothes; keeps himself UP.  He come out his door that way everyday; kept up.  I say that for him.

            ONE TIME, I remember, he took Michael’s old motor launch out on the lake.  Stepped right in behind the old steering wheel and took off.  He was the only captain on that lake that day wearing a tie.  When he come back into the dock the boys looked at him in his tie and sweater and tied him right up.  Teddy just stepped off that launch and walked up the dock.  No one said anything but didn’t he love it.

            That was all vanity.  His tie and sweater weren’t though.  He’s wearing those right now just like they’re his damn pearls.  He don’t know that though.

Old New England Glassware in the Home - Part Twenty-Two - "Don't Let Them"

Old New England Glassware in the Home

Part Twenty-Two

"Don't Let Them"

            Is it ‘sullen’?

            Or is it ‘difficult’?

            The silence that follows a commercial ...suggestion... from a ‘they’ ‘don’t know’

            REGARDING an

            “I DO KNOW”; here a ‘my lips touch’... antiquarian GROUP (set of eight diamond point pattern EAPG)

            objects... “Ah...

            Set the cordial down and shut-up

            Sir.”

            I haven’t touched this (sullen / difficult) before... you say?

            Well maybe we ...WE... should.

            The differentiation here is the ...very difficult to find in a written down format... notice of the difference of how an “antiques dealer” “SEES” this commercial query from this minister and how an

            Antiquarian picker... PICKER... “SEES”... ah.... IT.

            This directive brings our current glassware discussion to the broader, bigger, wider... tossed net of ‘what is all this writing about anyway’ (this blog)... AND the brutal differentiations... of that difference.  Yes...  really.

            Understand that I at this word play am first... from my antiquarian ‘begin’ ‘a picker’ and then ‘followed’ to be an antiquarian dealer.  The picker captures the territory of the appellation of ‘dealer’ by ‘having good stuff (things; objects) and ‘charging’ (requesting) ‘more money’ for those ‘good stuff’.  This is not hard to do... if the picker is a ‘does know’.  BUT:

            A good picker is always a good picker... simply (for no other reason) than that the ‘does know’ is used to “FIND” the ‘good stuff’.  The word is “FIND”.  Pickers prefer the ‘discovery mode’ of the antiquarian trade.  It is a hard ...this perpetual propelling ‘treasure hunt’ mode... ‘to shake’.  Especially should one ‘not want to’.

            Ok:  Fine.  This is easy to grasp in this front line poise (IN THE ATTIC OF THE OLD HOUSE) but gets a little bit more rough and tumble when it is operated in the “IN THE TRADE” mode.

            Simply, ‘antiques dealers’ “depend” on ‘pickers’ to “supply them’ with... ‘good stuff’.  They (the antiques dealers) qualify for “THAT” by ... how much they know... followed by a small pause and then followed by ‘how much they PAY’... for this... picker found... ‘the good stuff’.  And... at this point... I add... that without the picker’s ‘FIND’ the dealer... must ...find it... themselves and

            They are not very good at that (going into old attics and buying very, very good antiquarian objects for

            Nothing.

            Stepping into a boat with a tote bag are we?  It is a fine old boat that pickers use and it travels ‘on the water’ very fast.  The picker is back outside of the old attic well before a ‘dealer’ ‘climbs the stairs’ TO that attic.  Most dealers are ‘fine’ ‘with that’.

            But... what about the picker?

            In attic the picker is ‘fine’ ‘with that’ TOO.

            OUT of the attic, the picker ‘drops down’ from that halo; that antiquarian ‘high’, to find self ‘before’ in a ...suggested... submissive position; ‘before’ the “I DO KNOW” dealer and... after the pause... ‘the money’.  The seated and sherry gurgling minister’s... position in this... ‘is retail’; a ‘customer’ the antiques dealer ‘caters to’ (services) and the picker... ‘never sees that’ and... actually... ‘avoids’... even if he happens to be sitting in the same room.  That leaves... one (1)... hard to notice... enigma...

            Yes... enigma:

            This enigma is:

            Pickers... ‘doing this’ (the antiquarian profession) with... pickers.  Go ahead and try to find ‘some writing down’ ‘about that’.  It is rare.  I have actively collected it (archival study) for decades.  This is where the ‘this writing’ (this blog) comes from and so... and “yes”:

            WHO CARES.

            And that is just fine by me EXCEPT when... in the middle of my now one hundred page essay on... old New England glassware in the home... some dead weight sherry gurgling fog voice tote bag toting MAN OF GOD suggests I ‘break’ HIM ‘cheap’... MY... “I FOUND” set of diamond point pattern EAPG cordials that WE ARE sipping sherry from right then:

            “NO.”  Not happening.

            “WHY?”

            Picker to picker you ask... that? 

            It’s a little brutal.  A little vulgar (?).  A picker, to I, as a picker, is OF the brutal realm.  That realm is a galaxy “far, far away” from ‘normal people’ (Eve and Bing Part One) and with this galaxy being a warren of weaving iota alleyways ever lost in delightfully mazed whispers to assure one a captive for eternity.  I... leave off this ‘back pat’.

            BUT report the picker-says-to-me (a picker)... after a glance ‘at that’ (here ‘those’; the EAPG cordial set):

            “Don’t let them gang rape you on that (those)”.

            That’s it.  That is an “I CAN BANK THAT” ‘appraisal’ of their (the cordial set) value as OBJECT and as money.  Roughly it denotes that the object(s) are ‘good’ if not ‘great’ and the (cash) value is thereby there... too and...

            We get dicey...

            He knows that I know that “THEY” (a minister at the least but the dealers at the front line of the trade) “won’t pay” (will try, as a whole, to ‘not pay’ ‘fair value’) (gang rape)

            Me

            “On that (those).

            It’s that quick.

            Because ‘they’

            “Won’t pay”.

            Of course the Godly minister ‘would like’ ‘a set’ but

            “Won’t pay”

            And of course I can sell the ‘set’ easily if I price them to

            “Give away”.

            So....

            There you go...

            Picker to picker.

            The ‘string on the ground’ of the ‘market’ is bent over and picked up by

            The antiques dealer.  IF

            It happens that the current MARKET engages the JUICE GLASS as

            “More saleable” to the...

            Eve and Bing are the ‘only ones in the market’ for

            Old New England glassware... in the home?

            I do not sell ‘mine’ ‘good stuff’ ‘for less’.

            I do sell ‘juice glasses’ for ‘a little more than less’ to

            Them who do not know?

            Or do they know... their “OH I REMEMBER THOSE GRAPE JELLY CAME

            IN THEM

            REMEMBER we ate ALL OF IT TO GET THE

            Glasses

            I CAN’T BELIEVE IT WE HAD ONES JUST LIKE THESE I THINK WE

            STILL HAVE THEM

            In the

            Kitchen cupboard

            At Mom’s house.”

            Like pickers say to pickers:

            “Don’t let them gang rape you on that” (“those”).

"It's Been Two Years" - Part Five - "Antiques Store" - (B) - "The Front and The Back - (B) - "Money? Let's Go Find Some!"

"It's Been Two Years"

Part Five

"Antiques Store"

(B)

"The Front and The Back"

(B)

"Money?  Let's Go Find Some!"

            Continuing the ‘front and back’... pull back... of the bed curtains surrounding the aura and halo of ‘having’ an antiques store... to view just what and who is in that bed (?) and... continuing do that by ‘sticking to the money’... as opposed to considering the... “When I was under the porch finding the rusted-all-to-Hell pierced tin barn lantern” that was (the lantern itself) of no monetary value and that... that (I being under the porch) was, too... of no monetary value.  (This last should get a question mark; maybe my being under that porch WAS of ‘money value’?)  This whole under porch – barn lantern epic... did be, I recorded and claimed, a “wistfully lost in wonder of this ‘this is WONDERFUL’.”

            Anyway... I stick to antiques stores, their money, their ‘peoples’ and their money and... clamber over the fence of that to see if... for the antiques picker... there is a greener grass in the pasture of money than when an ‘antiques store’ is considered... ‘of money’.

            The best summary of THESE (this side of the fence; a back as opposed to a front) affairs... begins with reminding that rule one is ‘it is about the stuff’ and this... taken to heart by pickers... is the... they qualify that adage... by knowingly responding to this call... and the call of an ‘antiques store’... with THEIR OWN adage of... “Money?  Let’s go find some”.  Money... for an antiques picker... IS there for one to FIND. 

            Even under a porch finding a rusted ‘pierced tin barn lantern’?

            Yes; I did... after ‘loving it’ (the rusted relic)... sell it.

            TO BE FAIR on the greener green money trail from the antiques picker’s vantage, I begin at the END of a single item’s passage from ‘find’ to ‘sold’.  The very last of the trail is ‘paid’.  THAT is the departure of the picker from the ‘antiques store’... even if ‘paid’ requires the additional nuisance of stepping across the street to the... antiques shop owner’s BANK to... cash his (her) ‘the check’:  This is a THE RITUAL of ‘inconvenient truth’ for pickers.  Cashed... and this cash returned to the picker’s ...rubber banded money roll... is a moment of ‘start over’ to ‘do it again’.  I... travel the other way; backwards, in this front and back of the antiques store as... ‘worked’ by the antiques picker.

            To get the check the picker ‘offered’ ‘about the stuff’ antiques to the antiques store... management... for their consideration and purchase?

            ?

            NO.

            The picker was fully in ‘it’s gonna go’ (make the sale) mode WAY back up the land finger peninsula; way, way before he (her?); the antiques picker, started to ‘drive down there’... to sell.  Casually called ‘peddling’... this is actually an advanced... science... art... theatrical production... craft... skill... magician’s show... museum exhibit... verbose contrived banter surpassing long winded and... it works.  About ten items (stand alone antiques) make up a ‘sweep’ of picker peddling.  EACH is pitched using a ...no holds barred... ‘wicked varied’ number of presentations.  AT THIS MOMENT...going backwards... we are at the singular turning point when the antiques store states what of this... usually around an hour and a half... ‘pitched’ ‘load’ they... are... buying.  This is recorded and ‘totaled’ on a slip of paper in the picker’s shirt pocket.  Any... and often ALL of the ‘rejected’ ‘don’t want’ is THERE and then often ‘pitched again’ to see if ‘any more may be driven home’ (sold).  The picker is ‘tired’ from ‘pitching’ so these final sale jabs are weaker. 

The now nearing two hours long ‘pitch session’ was ‘all over the board’ ‘exhausting’.  EVERY ‘trick of the trade’ was used.  Many were set up before arrival to be ‘carried off’ as the picker peddled.  An example?  A modest ‘piece’ of antique furniture is ‘in the car’ to be shown.  THAT, in addition to selling that single piece of furniture... expands the picker’s ‘peddler’s store’ to the car where... the inconvenient truth has placed ‘more’ ‘to be discovered’ scattered about the car.  An example... for this is... the dashboard holds ‘in clutter’... several... ‘buy this?’ options to be “WHAT ABOUT THAT?” queried.  The picker could not have driven one block without ALL of that crud ‘falling’.  HOW... and why... did it ‘get there’; on that dashboard? 

The car, as picker’s store, is offset by ‘stuff’ being... in a razzle-dazzle format... ‘whisked’ hither and thither by the picker before the antiques store buyer.  In and out and around and about... the... all carefully, skillfully, knowingly MOVED ‘it’s about the stuff’ IS.  SOME makes absolute sense to the store... other items make no sense at all and have the ‘never seen one of those before’... quality.  Supporting VERBOSE banter... upon all the objects... all the time... while they are moving... hither and thither... never... stops.  ART LESSONS roll out the mouth of the picker like dry cereal being poured from a box.  BOWL after BOWL is filled and then MILK POURED UPON TOO without a request for “THAT”.  Customers in the store... should they be wandering about... scurry out of the peddler’s pathway but TOO... follow with inordinate interest this “SHOW”.  THEY may even... themselves... ‘show interest’ in a ‘something’ ‘being peddled’.  THAT ‘only helps’. 

Strategically, the picker has brought the most suitable sale items ‘in first’ while ‘wrapping’ each ‘obviously of interest’ object with a tag along of ‘other’ offerings... with these ‘pitched’ with great but knowing AND subtle skill.  All of this... is done very fast... even though it takes ‘forever’.  Suddenly ‘done’, the pitch show... ends with a last object ‘remember I have’ and then... ‘they buy’.

BEFORE (back before) the pitch show... the picker ‘arrives’.  THAT is not ‘just done’ but is carefully ...without being seen... reviewed and checked to assure a ‘good moment’ and ‘no distractions’.  Hutton, as recorded in the post “Hutton Loots Cransmore Part One”, veers off from a pitch when he sees the owners outside the store with a town agent ... discussing the problem of the recent graffiti tag painted on the side of the antiques store.  NOT a ‘good moment’, Hutton left the area without being seen and... sold that ‘load’ to me.  ‘Arrival of the picker’... IS ...a very carefully considered stage show of itself.  Coming through ...the open antiques store’s front door... carrying a pretty good grade... ‘eye catcher’ antique... a “THEY BUY THESE” object... is the usual ‘opener’.  For example... a... ‘they HAVE one of these for sale (and like it)... in their store right NOW... but here found with... the picker’s careful and knowingly chosen entry specimen to be BOTH... ‘better than theirs’ AND... substantially ‘cheaper’ than theirs... does ‘the (entrance of the picker) trick’ ...very well.  The picker has three things going; better, cheaper and... ‘they know what it is’.  The pitch ROLLS RAPIDLY onward from there... WITH that first hand held prop... actually ‘getting lost in the shuffle ‘until the end’ “OH DID YOU WANT THIS TOO?”.

Do not think (feel) for a second that ANY of this is not FULLY choreographed.  OH do not DARE believe this is innocent.  NO one would ever get to the glow of numbers such as “did you know” ‘seventy-seven thousand’ “DOLLARS” without... all of the kits and caboodles deployed with ALL the antiquarian picker’s graces (tricks) in the universes (note plural).

A small additional note before I step further back.  Costuming.  The picker is always well dressed.  Neat, clean, traditional upper middle class Wasp attire that is, most of the time... making he (she?) ‘the best dressed of the group’ at the antiques store.  The owner may wear a sportsman’s vest, blue jeans, ball cap and... Mrs. may... as she feels and... the customers tote... their fashionable tote bags but the... picker... is always... professionally... ‘acceptable PLUS’.  At the very least, this makes the picker ‘ok to have’ ‘in the store’ but quickly elevates the picker to being ‘safe to use’ by the store owners to ‘talk to anyone

About antiques.

This is very serious.  No picker with dirty blue jeans dragging over dirty sneakers with a trucker wallet chain dangling amidst facial hair, ‘ink’ and logo shirts... AND displaying the lacking of the knowledge of the uses of a bar of soap....:  Nope... “doesn’t happen”.  When I am working, people say ‘Thank you Sir” to me ...all the time.

            Back further I go... to ‘before’ the ‘drive down there’.  Here at...this before... the picker’s peddle load is ‘put together’.  The load’s ‘anchor’ is denoted.  That is the ...carefully considered ‘maybe TODAY’ is a good day... generally more expensive... and therefore more desirable... so therefore ...marketable... BETTER as an object (antique).  No ‘all eggs in one basket’, this item is ‘flanked’ by two or three ‘approaches that’.  Dollar wise one should notice the ‘value’ of the ‘load’ has... already ‘rose’.  At a thousand a day... for seventy-seven days... out of three hundred and sixty-five days... is not the seventy-seven thousand dollars ‘this year’ sales... suddenly a bit... more ‘able to do this’?  Shortened to crude warfare; if Hutton loots Cransmore on one day... for one kay and drives off with that cost bases to... ‘picker peddles’ that  number ‘rolled in his head’ as he ‘drives there’... to... an opening offer of ‘all’ for twenty-five hundred... one should see that as actual dollar counting goes... ‘they add up’.  In seven days... twenty five hundred... at the end of each day... is... seventeen PLUS thousand  dollars... ‘rolling over’ ‘on the books’.  And it is more complacent than that.

            The simple picker’s formula is:  IF... one sells two hundred and fifty items in one year for a one hundred dollar profit on each of those items... how much money does one make?  One makes, before ‘cost of doing business’ expenses... and these are minor... twenty-five thousand dollars.  “Do you think you can do that?”.

            It is harder to do than one would... think.  For success I recommend “feel”:  Do you FEEL you can do that?

            Soooo... one has three or four ‘cap’ items selected ‘now’ and... that leaves seven or eight to go.... soooo... a picker does NOT trivialize THAT but is, in fact, absolutely VERY shrewd in the ‘those’ choices.  VERY shrewd for those choices are where ‘the money is’.  Remember:  “Money?  Let’s go FIND SOME!”