EVEN ANTIQUE DEALERS AND COLLECTORS ARE SNAPPED BACK TO THE REALITY - WE'RE MORTAL EVEN THOUGH WE FEEL IN A SPECIAL CATEGORY
SO WHAT'S IT ALL ABOUT ANYWAY - SEEING AS WE CAN'T TAKE THIS STUFF WITH US?
HONESTLY, THESE DAYS, EVERY TIME I GET BAD NEWS ABOUT SOMEONE PASSING AWAY, WHO I HAVE CHUMMED WITH, OR CONSIDERED A CLOSE COLLEAGUE, I GET KIND OF WEIRD AND WITHDRAWN, AND ON EVERY ONE OF THESE OCCASIONS, I START QUESTIONING WHAT IT'S ALL ABOUT ANYWAY. DON'T YOU? I DON'T THINK IT'S A PARTICULARLY EXTRAORDINARY REACTION. IT'S JUST ONE THAT PRICKS US A LITTLE HARDER, WHEN A DEATH HAPPENS IN OUR BALLIWICK…..REMOVING SOMEONE FAMILIAR WHO WE HAVE COME TO EXPECT…..TO ALWAYS BE THERE, SO AS NOT TO UPSET THE NORMALCY OF OUR LIVES. I NEVER SAID WE WEREN'T A SELF ABSORBED GROUP OF PROFESSIONALS. WE LIKE CHANGE TO HAPPEN TO SOMEONE ELSE, IN SOME OTHER LOCALE, IF IT HAS TO HAPPEN AT ALL. YET OUR PROGRESS IN ACQUISITIONS, VERY MUCH DEPENDS ON THIS SAME CYCLE OF LIFE WE LOATHE TO ACKNOWLEDGE…..IN CASE IT'S OUR NAME ON THE "NEXT TO HARVEST" LIST. THE ANTIQUE PROFESSION IS ONE STEP BEHIND THE GRIM REAPER, AND I HATE LIKE HECK TO ADMIT THIS. I HAVE HUNDREDS OF PIECES TO REMIND ME, THAT MY GOOD FORTUNE, AS THE NEW OWNER, CLEARLY DEPENDED ON THEM SUCCUMBING FIRST. OTHER THAN THAT, IT WOULD HAVE BEEN EITHER A TRANSACTION IN LIFE, OR OTHERWISE, THAT WE HAD BROKEN INTO THEIR HOMES, AND STOLEN WHAT WE WANTED. OF COURSE WE'RE NOT LIKE THAT! WE'RE PATIENT. THUS, THE ESTATE THING IS OUR BIGGEST SUPPLIER OF WHAT WE COLLECT, BUY AND SELL. WE LEARN TO LIVE WITH THIS OPPRESSIVE NEGATIVISM, AND THINK OF OURSELVES AS CURATORS OF HEIRLOOM PIECES, LEFT FOR OUR SAFE HANDLING.
IT DOESN'T HELP THAT I'M A WRITER AND HISTORIAN MIXED IN WITH ANTIQUE DEALER. A LOT OF FOLKS THINK THAT YOU HAVE TO BE ECCENTRIC TO BE AN ANTIQUE DEALER ANYWAY. THOSE SAME FOLKS BELIEVE WRITERS ARE A LITTLE LEFT OF CENTRE, AND HISTORIANS ARE ALL "POINDEXTERS," WITH THEIR FACES BURIED UP TO THEIR THICK GLASS RIMS, IN A MOUNTAIN OF RESEARCH MATERIAL……ALL THE TIME, EXCEPT FOR EATING, AND GOING TO THE WASHROOM. SO BEING CONSIDERED AN ODD DUCK HAS BEEN MY LOT IN LIFE FOR DECADES NOW. MOST OF THE TIME, I USE IT TO SCARE OFF DOOR TO DOOR SALES TYPES, AND RELIGIOUS ZEALOTS WHO SHOW UP HERE, AT BIRCH HOLLOW, TO MAKE A SALE OR SAVE A SOUL. "I'M A TERRIBLE THREESOME OF PERSONALITIES," I LET THEM KNOW AT THE THRESHOLD, WHILE LOOKING WILD-EYED. THEY USUALLY TURN AROUND WHEN THEY HEAR "WRITER," BECAUSE WITH MY OPEN SHIRT TO MY NAVEL, THEY ASSUME I MUST PEN PORNOGRAPHY. IF THEY GET PAST THAT, THE HISTORIAN USUALLY TROUBLES THEM, ESPECIALLY WHEN I'M WEARING MY OLD BEAVER SKIN TOP HAT, THAT I SAVE FOR SPECIAL GUESTS.
BUT GETTING BACK TO THE POINT OF THIS TOME, I OFTEN GET TO THE PINNACLE OF EMOTION, WHERE I LOOK AT OUR COLLECTIONS, AND OUR SHOP, AND LIKE THE SONG GOES, SING QUIETLY TO MYSELF, "IS THAT ALL THERE IS." I LOVE OLD STUFF, AND ALWAYS HAVE, BUT THERE ARE TIMES WHEN THE LOSS OF SOMEONE I KNOW, COMPELS ME TO ASK OUT LOUD, "WHAT THE HELL ARE WE DOING COLLECTING ALL THIS STUFF, WHEN ONE MORNING, WE COULD GET UP AFTER COFFEE AND A BRAN MUFFIN, AND HAVE THE 'BIG ONE.' RIGHT THERE ON THE SPOT. POTENTIALLY CRASHING INTO THE GREEK URN, OR TAKING OUT THE SET OF TRILLIUM CHINA YOUR PARTNER HAS BEEN BUILDING FOR CLOSE TO AN ETERNITY. HONESTLY, I HATE GETTING LIKE THIS, BUT EVERY NOW AND AGAIN, YOU DO NEED TO BE REMINDED JUST HOW BRIEF OUR STAY IS, AND AFTER ALL, THE STUFF WE OWN, HAS BEEN THROUGH MANY OWNERS…..SOME WHO HAD TO PASS-ON, FOR US TO BE ABLE TO BUY IT FROM AN ESTATE OR AUCTION. YUP, WE ARE THE KEEPERS OF THE MATERIALS LEFT BEHIND BY OTHERS. IT GIVES YOU KIND OF A CREEPY FEELING AT TIMES, SITTING ALONE, CONTEMPLATING HOW MANY PREVIOUS OWNERS, SAT UP AT NIGHT, TRYING TO FIGURE OUT HOW THEY COULD BE BURIED WITH THEIR POSSESSIONS….AND ACTUALLY HAVE THAT MAKE SENSE. EVEN THE MOST REALISTIC ANTIQUE DEALER, GETS THAT LITTLE PANG, OF PANIC, WONDERING HOW ANY ONE ELSE COULD EVER BE TRUSTED WITH THEIR POSSESSIONS. THAT'S WHEN PLANS OF ACTION ARE DRAWN UP, AND WILLS FINALLY PENNED, TO ENSURE THAT THE COLLECTED TREASURES ARE LOOKED AFTER PROPERLY, BY APPOINTING STEWARDS IN THE LINE OF SUCCESSION.
DAVE BROWN HAD A WILL BUT HE NEVER THOUGHT IT WOULD BE REQUIRED
My old book collector friend, Dave Brown, of Hamilton, was a smart cookie. He did prepare a will, and certainly understood the dire consequence of the news he was given; that he was within a whisker of death, the result of leukemia. Dave was well versed in science and botany, and it is my contention, as his friend and biographer, that he knew the end was coming, years before he had it positively identified. I can remember, in the mid 1990's, Dave being spry, and going on huge canoe trips by himself, and working on demolition jobs with some of his Hamilton cronies. We knew when it took Dave three times as long to get to our verandah, from his truck in the driveway, there was something going on, more than just being tired. He was turning down some of Suzanne's cooking, which was the sure sign his body was talking to him loud and clear. It still took him a long time to actually go to the doctor, to get a diagnosis. Even when Suzanne talked with him, the day he was given the bad news, he confessed to having had a suspicion it was going to be bad news…..which ironically, was his same opinion about five years before this. He knew! But he didn't want it confirmed. As long as it was his little secret, he was prepared to go down with the ship. The only reason he let us know what was going on, had to do with the fact, I was writing his biography at the time. I had to be in the loop.
Getting back to my original question, and how it pertained to Dave Brown, it was very much the case, the antique and collectable enterprise, he got up to, every day of his life (after retiring from teaching), was his source of strength and inspiration to carry on. There are some who were close to Dave, who share this opinion, that he might have even stretched out his life expectancy, because he was controlling his mind, and challenging himself to carry on, and not dwell on things like "feeling crappy," and hurting all over. There are others who wished he had received his diagnosis years earlier, if that was possible, because he could have started treatments; that may have potentially extended his life. Truth is, Dave wouldn't have taken the treatments anyway. So he traded treatment for "old book hunting." It preoccupied him in the most positive way, at this point, and sitting next to this guy, on the deck, talking about the next collecting conquest, or estate sale, you'd well expect the man had the health of a twenty year old body builder. He was slower, admittedly, but he seemed more interested in his books than I'd seen in the decade before. He had so many places he wanted to visit, such as his friends in the City of Washington, and the books shops he loved in Chicago. He probably believed that his positive thinking, would by itself, restore his health. He may have felt the hand of death, at points, but he wasn't bashful of responding, "Not yet, I've got work to do!" Dave you see, was not a dawdler. He was a thinker, a plodder, a buccaneer at times, when there was a cache of books he knew about and wanted.
I think about Dave a lot, and how short it was, between the time of his official diagnosis, and prognosis, to when he actually gave up and went to his eternal reward. But get this. It's my favorite Dave Brown story. A very few days before his demise, his friends came to spring him from hospital, to take him to one of his favorite restaurants in St. Catharines. It was his favorite, not just because of the good food served there, but the fact there was an old book shop just around the corner he used to visit when in the city. He went to the shop, found a book he liked, and when he arrived back at the restaurant, to meet his friends, he held out the bag with the book in it, and said, with a wee upturn of his cheek, "You never know when you're going to need a good book." With my intimate knowledge of the good Mr. Brown, I would say, that without a doubt, he lived longer not knowing about his illness, than if he had found out three to five years earlier, he was in the early stages of the disease. He would have largely given up, and refused any medical intervention to rob nature of its claim on his remains. Dave was better off not knowing, and this may confuse some people reading this, because it doesn't seem a sensible protocol. Yet for Dave, who was imbedded in nature, even in his outdoor education classroom in Hamilton, death wasn't such a big deal……"It's a fact of life, that we all have to die……" and I remember this, because it was a line he used on a Hamilton television station's talk show, where he appeared frequently as a guest, talking about oddities of nature. He was showing a skeleton of a raccoon I think it was, that day…..and was matter of fact, for the youngsters watching, about the cycle of life, and the truth that all life forms have life expectancies. Even outdoor educators.
I don't really think my imbedded and enthusiastic relationship with antiques and collectables will extend my life. But unless I trip over a Medalta crock, or fall into a spinning wheel while on a late night trip to the bathroom, I don't really believe that my life will be shortened by this quirky obsession of mine. I do know what Dave was talking about, at the end, about never knowing when you're going to need the company of a collectable. There's a power of focus and pre-occupation, that affects most of us in this trade, to withdraw somewhat from the status quo of the real world. It's an intimacy that is hard to explain, but it's not difficult whatsoever, to explain why I'm a lot happier in the midst of my collection, than sitting in the same room, with nary a collectable piece to be found. There is a rare dynamic in the antique profession, that may be enhanced and even enchanted by the fact most of what we consider antiques, has been passed on to us, as a direct result of the grim reaper's scythe. So when we look at it, of course we get the sense, (especially on certain pieces), that a previous owner has still got that plan, to take the subject piece to the other side……when he or she figures out how to sneak that one past God. It's why antique dealers often sense that a piece carries a little spirited energy with it, as the former owner refuses to let go. So it's not like we don't think about the day we have to leave all this behind; it's just that when we lose some of our mates, and kindred spirits, we ponder momentarily, what we've been doing this for, over so many decades. We answer our own questions quickly. We know why we surround ourselves with old stuff. We're old souls, who may have, at some point in history, been a part of those earlier times….. but most likely in different professions. If we get real morbid about it all, we then take great measures, to itemize all our neat possessions, in the last will and testament, with accompanying rules of conduct and material maintenance, for the next generation to obsess over.
I made the right choice when I opted to become an antique dealer…..I'm that strange folks, that this all makes sense to me. I know that my own pre-occupation with history, in all its shapes and sizes, qualities and quantities, has kept me keenly aware of both the past and future……and I'm of the mind today, to make sure my boys know how to handle the burden, of a (my) life time spent collecting. These days I'm hearing about more of my cronies crossing over…..and it makes even the death-defying antique dealer, think about the odds….if Nick the Greek was still calling them.
Sorry that this blog reads a little on the morbid side. Most just call it, a smack-down of reality, when no one invited it (the nasty truth) to the party. See you again soon, "heaven willing," as my mother used to say, when I'd say "goodnight, and see you tomorrow."
Please visit my other blog at http://muskokaaswaldenpond.blogspot.ca/
No comments:
Post a Comment