Getting a bargain was the last thing on my mind when I impulsively stopped at a yard sale near here the other day.
I was coming to Laurinburg to see the downtown Christmas parade, but I was early. Really early. And as I was driving through East Laurinburg, I noticed a yard sale sign with an arrow.
I decided to go.
Just off the main road, there it was — a few tables set up near a canopy thing where a few folks huddled around a grill of some sort that wasn’t cooking anything, only keeping them warm.
It didn’t seem that chilly to me.
Nothing caught my eye as I drove past, but I stopped anyway.
As I walked toward the tables, I quickly realized this yard sale offered much of the usual fare — children’s toys, old magazines and books, some knick-knacks that looked like they were purchased in the 1960s and clothing … lots of clothing.
After sufficiently letting my eyes comb over the tables and nodding slightly to one of the folks under the canopy, I’d pretty much had my fill.
Then something stopped me in my tracks. In a pile of old books that looked as if 100 people before me had shoved them to and fro in search of … something … there was “The Life of William McKinley and Complete Story of His Assassination.” The book, published in 1901, was marked $7.
I began flipping through its yellowed, delicate pages and began to recall an American history class I took in high school that discussed McKinley’s death in Buffalo, NY.
When I put the book down, I noticed another book, this one titled “Little Dorritt,’ which meant nothing to me. But it was old. In fact, there was no copyright date inside, only an inscription that stated: “From your brother, Charles. Xmas 1891.”
This book was marked $2.
Suddenly, for some reason, I felt like I should buy these two books. But before I could leave that table, I noticed several photo albums stacked on the ground nearby.
I figured they’d be empty, so the purchaser could find some kind of use for them. But they weren’t empty. In fact, all seven of them were full — each with photos that could have been at least 25 years old. Some were obviously much older than that.
Each photo album was marked $1.
I certainly didn’t know any of the people in the photos, so I’m not sure what it was that made me think I should buy one. It could have been the feeling of sadness that this album, lovingly compiled over a period of years so long ago, now had no owner.
The woman selling these things didn’t know anyone in the photos and claimed to have found them in the attic of the house.
I presented her with the two books and one photo album, expecting to pay an even $10. Instead, she gave them to me for the bargain price of $7.
And what a bargain it was, too.
When I got home later that evening, I found a postcard in the McKinley book that had been mailed from Cincinnati on July 21, 1908, to someone by the name of Carl Hoffmeier from his Uncle Henry.
The postcard merely asked if Carl was being a good boy and talked about the photo on the front, which is of the McKinley Monument in Canton, Ohio. Uncle Henry ended the postcard by writing “President McKinley was the greatest man the country has known.”
Then I dove into the photo album and began meeting people who were apparently important to someone long ago.
One of the first was a photograph of a bookmobile group, but it didn’t say where they were from. Instead, only names were left as clues — marked on the back was Miss Sally Mae Woodruff, Miss Ellen Brookes, Mrs. Francine Smith, Miss Leone Brodnax, Evelyn Brookes and Mr. Howard Allison.
Most of the photos were of a Will and Evelyn (Eva) Howell. They apparently had a dog named Bowser, but there were also photos of Will with a kitten and a turkey.
Will and Eva appeared to be a religious couple, as well, since there were numerous photos of them with ministers — such as the Rev. and Mrs. Arthur Staton and children, the Rev. John Gathany and family, the Rev. S.W. Thomas and his wife Carletta, and Brother Dan and his family.
There is also a photo of a Carolyn Shores standing in the middle of a creek with a minister on the occasion of her baptism. This was the only photo with a date — 1946.
There is also a 50th anniversary photo of Jim and Ada, as well as Dell and Bertha, along with a clipping from a 1950s Fayetteville newspaper showing Mr. and Mrs. Charles Vergason celebrating their 57th anniversary.
Does anyone remember any of these people?
It made me wonder if anyone would remember me if they run across a photo album 50 years from now, and will my life’s photographs be offered someday for a mere $1? Of course, by then, they’ll all be packed into an outdated 2019 cell phone.
By the way, the Christmas parade was awesome too.
W. Curt Vincent can be reached at 910-506-3023 or [email protected].