AK's Column: There shall be no yard sale
"Woosah!" I closed my eyes and exhaled as my friend gently pried my beloved Audrey Hepburn poster from my grip. “Woosah” is a term indicating to calm down, let go and relax, made popular by comedian Martin Lawrence. But there was nothing funny about my first "moving on" yard sale.
I knew that Audrey would be too big for my next place, but I couldn't let go of the three-foot black-and-white poster depicting the iconic image of Hepburn in my all-time favorite film, Breakfast at Tiffany's. This would be my third time.
Yard Sales can be intense. I was unprepared for the brutal venture, although I had purchased the tool kit from The Dispatch with tips for conducting a proper sale. I realized that I needed more training when my first guest spent 20 minutes scolding me for not having all items unloaded by the advertised time of 7:00 a.m. After the first round of customers, I needed to escape, so I grabbed my book and sat on the futon, pretending I wasn't interested in shoppers' reactions to some of my most treasured possessions.
I eavesdropped on conversations in English and Spanish while they scoured through my belongings. At one point, I whispered to my helper, "Oh no, she didn't call my father's cowboy hat ugly." She shushed me. Then, I acknowledged the fact that I only cherished it because it smelled like my dad's old construction site. I giggled out loud behind the copy of "You Like It Darker: Stories" that I was pretending to read. I could not lie when the shopper asked if the book was funny. It tickled me because I used to think his hat was "ugly" but my pop thought he was looking dapper every time he wore it.
What was I thinking? I couldn't sell my memories. I had just pulled the hat from the sale when I noticed a young woman eyeing my Audrey Hepburn poster. I made a dash to remove it from the art bin, but my friend caught me in the act and rushed to bring me back to my senses. With his hands squarely on my shoulders, he insisted I look him in his eyes. "You have to let go," he reminded me. "Remember, the goal is to return home with nothing." The young woman came over to ask how much I wanted for the poster as my friend pulled it from my hands. I sighed and muttered "one dollar." Before loading it into her car, I followed behind to tell her that she should check out the film. I explained that it is about a young, single woman who loves the Brooklyn Bridge and the bright lights of New York City. Her name was Holly Golightly, and she was a wanderer who refused to be put in what she considered to be a cage. I went on and on about how I admired the fact that Holly wouldn't allow herself to be "trapped" by any place or relationship until she met a gentleman played by the dashing George Peppard.
My shopper had not seen the film, but it was the quintessential chick-flick. I have spent many evenings on the couch, reciting the lines along with the television. "You call yourself a free spirit, a wild thing, and you're terrified somebody's going to stick you in a cage. Well, baby, you're already in that cage. You built it yourself. And it's not bounded in the west by Tulip, Texas, or in the east by Somaliland. It's wherever you go. Because no matter where you run, you just end up running into yourself," Paul (Peppard) said.
My friend came over again to interrupt. "I think this young woman is ready to move on to the next yard sale." I asked her for one last picture with the poster before letting go. By 9 a.m., I was exhausted. So, I decided to close down my yard sale early after selling my last sentimental piece of furniture, my mother's favorite chair.
One of my father's best friends, James Bittings, gave her the oversized chair years ago. You could still smell the years he and Pop had smoked cigars in it. Mom said that it reminded her of a piece that one would see in a tropical country, like the Dominican Republic where Pop had family. She had always dreamed of traveling to the Caribbean one day and reminded me not to return there without her. My sister and I were both surprised she was so willing to give up the chair in an effort to make her home accessible for her wheelchair. We were prepared for her to fuss over keeping the chair, but after a recent stroke, she spent months in Nursing Care Rehabilitation and wanted nothing more than to simply return home.
Life has a way of shifting our priorities but in the spirit of Holly Golightly, I've reminded mom that we still have lots of traveling to do after she recovers.
I will not let her give up on that; after all, she taught me to be brave and accept life's circumstances but keep on dreaming.
I guess mom and I both are just trying to make room in our lives for new adventures.
