In Its Right Place

This weekend has not been without mixed emotions, the first Memorial Weekend where both of my parents are gone and a three day estate sale is going on at Lazy Acres, the house that has been in our family for 50 years. Though I did not grow up there or ever call it home, it was built by my grandparents who developed the neighborhood and named the street after me. Over the past nine months, our family sorted through more than a century of heirlooms, keeping many things, pulling items from our own personal stashes and combining them for the huge sale this weekend.

Was it the right thing to do? That question has come up several times, and one of our cousins attended, as a sort of reconnaissance work, and he sent us his glowing approval. There was also the fear that no one would come (during heavy rains) or that nothing would move. Having assigned the sale to a contractor, we did not attend the event itself, but my sister has been giving me twice daily reports. She stood vigil across the street from a movie theatre parking lot. Though the sale began at 9 a.m., there were over 60 cars at 7:45 a.m.

This afternoon, I went to the little close out book shop at the SF Public Library. Along with the book section of the Community Thrift Store on Valencia, it's one of the most under-rated book sources in San Francisco. As I picked up a book titled Bungalow Nation, a young woman volunteer beamed at me and then disappeared as I continued to search for other finds. When I was checking out, she cooed, "Oh, the bungalow book. I was cherishing that for an hour before I started work and wondered whose hands it would end up in."

Seeing her obvious penchant for the volume I asked if I was grabbing something that she had already planned to purchase herself. "No, my husband would kill me if I brought home one more book. I just wanted to know that it was going to be in the hands of someone who would relish it the way I do. Seeing your face made my day."