Sisterhood of the Traveling Dress

My in-laws were hoarders. Not like you see on television, it’s hard to imagine anyone having been that extreme, but they collected stuff! After my father-in-law passed away, my mother-in-law has begun to deaccession herself of much of the junk. A lot of it was my father-in-laws so it was easier for her to get rid of.

She had saved her kids clothes, at least a lot of it, and now it seemed an appropriate time to get rid of it, now that her kids were over 40 and 50 years old! I have no idea how much of it went to the church or the Salvation Army, but some of it was sent to my daughter-in-law who was the only one in my family who had a little girl to wear what she had saved. I remember getting some sweaters for my girls earlier that had moth holes in them, and were of a style long forgotten, but I didn’t know what went to California to my kids.

This picture was sent to me last week and it’s my granddaughter Lena in my wife’s original dress. The photo of Lena was taken in April, 2012 and the photograph of my wife was taken in July 1960.
That’s 52 years later!!!

Buried Dreams

When I was a kid, I guess about 13 or maybe even 14, I met a girl I liked. She was sort of cute, and I have fond memories of our sitting around in her basement playroom dancing and necking a bit. It wasn’t love, maybe just a first experience. There was no heavy sexual stuff involved and her parents made it perfectly clear that I was not to hang around too much. Her father was mean but her mother was “hot”. This was not anything I had even run into before, a hot mom, a yummy mummy. I liked her better than the daughter.

In truth, I never saw either of them again after our brief experiences together, maybe a month at most and never really thought about again it until yesterday.

Yesterday, reading on line through some obituaries, I discovered her mother had died. Given my age, it was not a shock, but it brought back a bunch of sweet kid memories, and warm nostalgic feelings. Reading through the entire obituary, I soon discovered that her Mom had died after her daughter. My old girl friend was already dead!

This is a totally depressing thought. I had reached the time, as I have so often said, that many of my old friends have already passed.

That sweet summertime moment, that first blush of spring, the poetic thoughts of young love have died and are buried in some Jewish cemetery somewhere in Baltimore, Maryland.

There should be a fitting Leonard Cohen song to follow this…….

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Aution Questions

I am continually confused by post auction questions and comments. They usually surface during the first two weeks after our annual auction, although many happen on the lead up. Some of the questions and comments include:

I just brought the painting home (I already bid on and paid for of course) and it just doesn’t match the living room.

Oh, the Rembrandt’s only a print (etching)?

Do you remember the big red painting in Studio three, the one with the barn?  (One of 1287 art objects for sale)

Do you know where my cousin Ernie’s painting is?

There are way too many photographs included in this auction. (note: don’t buy one)

Is this one an original? (No, the other one is.)

How much did the little blue panting sell for? (Same kind of answer, of the 1287 pieces I will not only know the selling price, but I’ll not know which one was the little blue one).

Which one is the best investment? (mine!)

What will it sell for? (How the hell do I know?)

If I buy it will I get a tax receipt? (NO!!, you’re buying something!!!)

Burma-Shave

Way back in 1925 young Allan Odell pitched this great sales idea to his father, Clinton. Use small, wooden roadside signs to pitch their product, Burma-Shave, a brushless shaving cream. Dad wasn't wild about the idea but eventually gave Allan $200 to give it a try.
It didn't take long for sales to soar. Soon Allan and his brother Leonard were putting up signs all over the place.

At first the signs were pure sales pitch but as the years passed they found their sense of humor.

At their height of popularity there were 7,000 Burma-Shave signs stretching across America. The familiar white on red signs, grouped by four, fives and sixes, became part of a family trip . You'd read first one, then another, anticipating the punch line on number five and the familiar Burma-Shave on the sixth.

The signs cheered us during the Depression and the dark days of World War II. But things began to change in the late Fifties. Cars got faster and superhighways got built to accommodate them. The fun little signs were being replaced by huge, unsightly billboards.
1963 was the last year for new Burma Shave signs. There were no more red and white nuggets of roadside wisdom.

As befits such an important part of American culture, one set is preserved by the Smithsonian Institution. It reads:
Shaving brushes
You'll soon see 'em
On a shelf
In some museum
Burma-Shave
Here are a few examples:

His cheek
Was rough
His chick vamoosed
And now she won't
Come home to roost
Burma-Shave

The place to pass
On curves
You know
Is only at
A beauty show
Burma-Shave

On curves ahead
Remember, sonny
That rabbit's foot
Didn't save
The bunny
Burma-Shave

Twinkle, twinkle
One-eyed car
We all wonder
WHERE you are
Burma-Shave 

These signs
We gladly
Dedicate
To men who've had
No date of late
Burma-Shave

A guy
Who drives
A car wide open
Is not thinkin'
He's just hopin'
Burma-Shave 

A whiskery kiss
For the one
You adore
May not make her mad
But her face will be sore
Burma-Shave

His brush is gone
So what'll we do
Said Mike Robe I
To Mike Robe II
Burma-Shave

If your peach
Keeps out
Of reach
Better practice
What we preach
Burma-Shave

When Super-shaved
Remember, pard
You'll still get slapped
But not so hard
Burma-Shave

Burma-Shave
Was such a boom
They passed
The bride
And kissed the groom

To kiss
A mug
That's like a cactus
Takes more nerve
Than it does practice
Burma-Shave

The whale
Put Jonah
Down the hatch
But coughed him up
Because he scratched
Burma-Shave

Violets are blue
Roses are pink
On graves
Of those
Who drive and drink
Burma-Shave 

Candidate says
Campaign
Confusing
Babies kiss me
Since I've been using
Burma-Shave

My job is
Keeping faces clean
And nobody knows
De stubble
I've seen
Burma-Shave 

Doesn't
Kiss you
Like she useter?
Perhaps she's seen
A smoother rooster!!
Burma-Shave

No use
Knowing
How to pick 'em
If your half-shaved Whiskers stick 'em
Burma-Shave

He tried
To cross
As fast train neared
Death didn't draft him
He volunteered
Burma-Shave

Her chariot
Raced 80 per
They hauled away
What had
Ben Her
Burma-Shave

She will Flood your face
With kisses
'Cause you smell
So darn delicious
Burma-Shave

I had to Google heart attack symptoms just in case I was having one

On Monday I was suddenly hit with a terrible pain in my right arm while sitting at my computer in my office. The pain went from the right shoulder to the elbow and stopped me from moving my arm in any upward movement. I was working away, and trying to get my arm right and it was awful.

There was a certain sense of familiarity with it but not enough to trigger a memory, at least not at that time.
My first thought was the probability of a heart attack, and I needed some information. I did not want it to be a heart attack (like who would?)
I was on the phone at that time and I decided that while I was talking I would Google heart attack symptoms just in case this was one. It was unclear, but it seemed mostly  that the left arm would have been problematic but the right  was safe enough. My wife had provided me with a bottle of low dose aspirin as a heart attack preventative, and it seemed like a good time to take one.
I had no idea where they were and for sure they were not with me. That pain became unbearable, but I managed to complete my work and get my coat on. I had to go downtown to pick up some paintings a little later, so I decided to go home and get some medicine and see what I could do.
I arrived at home, driving with my left hand as I couldn’t really use my right hand very well. In the house, I found muscle relaxers which I had for my earlier back problem and after much looking, found the aspirins. I took everything and continued to do so every four hours. I went to bed for a while, and read, and it began to feel better. I spoke to my wife who called in to hear messages and found me at home and I scared her to death. She wanted to come home and I wanted to go out. As things got better I left the house and got gas for the car and went out to lunch. I called her back and assured her it was no heart attack and I was fine and not home.
I went downtown and recovered the paintings and returned to the office. After a bit, I felt lousy so I went home again about 4:00.
I finally realized the pain was familiar, and it related to a rotator cuff accident I had a year and a half ago when I fell on the ice. It had returned although I seemed to be doing nothing more than typing.

After explaining this to my wife  she reminded me I had been mowing our lawn on Sunday, and out wonderful battery run electric motor weighs 76 pounds, and it’s like dragging a bucket of stones around. That was what caused the problem, and the typing must have just hit the muscle in the right place.
This morning, after breakfast, the pain simply disappeared? Who knows? I think the peanut butter I had at breakfast was the cure!

Girlfriends

On Saturday evening at the auction I was asked if I had put my name on two seats because there were pieces of paper with my name reserving these chairs.

“Yes, these are mine, they have my name on them”, as if this weren’t obvious enough.

But there was another name on another chair next to mine. “Yes, I reserved this one as well”

“Who is this one for”?

“It’s for my girlfriend”, I replied.

“Your girlfriend”?

“Yes, my girlfriend”.

“You are sitting here with your wife and your girlfriend”?

“Yes. My wife and my girlfriend”.

“Doesn’t your wife mind this situation”?

“No, she thinks it’s her girlfriend”.

There were no more questions……

Auction Report

Rembrandt etching- 1641

I’m still coming down from last night’s auction. It was fantastic, and as usual, I learn things every time.
I know instinctively that things sell by region. Some things that I can sell could not be sold in the Toronto market and vice versa. There are of course favorites everywhere.
Among my long held concerns is the lack of understanding of three dimensional art, sculpture, in any region. We have forgotten how to look at work unless it’s flat. Sculpture classes in most places have disappeared, as we become a flat world. As well, people have no place to put sculpture, even when they do. They simply don’t recognise the space. It was harder to sell it last night and while we did sell a few pieces, our three passes of the night were three dimensional ones.
Old favorites sold well, although I was a bit disturbed by lower prices in some cases.
My secondary market pieces are doing well and we have developed an audience for “old stuff”. I’ve tried very hard since my arrival here 13 years ago to develop donor consciences that we will be happy to recycle old art. This year one of my own pieces was returned and sold again. It sold six years ago and it sold last night. We have tried to emphasize to downsizing families that we are a great place to “dispose “ of art work you no longer have room to store or a family that wants it.
The “star” of this group was the Rembrandt etching, a 1641 piece with a bit of deterioration to two corners, but easily restorable if the buyer would like it done. I took it from a plastic sleeve and had it framed. I checked to feel the ink to make sure it was an etching and not a clever digital copy. The paper was so fragile that I wanted to inflict as little damage as possible. While I cannot guarantee it was printed by Rembrandt himself, as prints were pulled from these plate for some years t come, it clearly was very old, and the correct size. A 19th century copy was made at a slightly larger size.
The bidding for this last piece of the night was intense. Because of great newspaper publicity, we had a large crowd who all waited for this last piece to be sold. The auctioneer, our favorite and well worth the cost of admission alone, asked me to come up and speak about the Rembrandt. I was prepared, having spoken to so many people about it for a few months, that it was fun to tell my story. I bid one dollar to get it started, this gave a funny opening for the auctioneer.
The tension grew with the price and in the end it was a battle of words and money, a battle between the last two bidders. I knew both bidders and had spoken to both of them about the piece. It was fun to watch for everyone. The final bid was $11,000.
Most of us were delighted, given our concerns. A few were surprised it went so low. People never agree on these things. We had been guessing about what we thought it would do and this exceeded all our expectations.
It will take a week or two to get final numbers on the 1300 pieces of art sold by silent and live auction as well as hundreds of pieces of pottery “seconds” we sell as well. I know this; it was one hell of a night!

added thought: I just remembered, there was a new wrinkle in last night's auction,, I-Phones! People were seen looking up values etc. on their cell phones etc. as the night wore on. This is the first year I have seen this happen. It is a changing world.