Trash or Treasure?

Meghan came to visit me this weekend which has been so far, utterly wonderful. Full of eating, shopping, eating, sleeping, eating, watching TV, and eating. It has also been good to get over my HUGE sorrow at everyone leaving this summer, especially Amy. So Meghan and I went to a little antique store a block from my house that I've always meant to enter. It was fantastic. The building is brick, but covered in silver slabs (looking allot like tin foil), which clings to the form of the bricks underneath. Inside is like a treasure hunt one could only imagine. Boy scout books, mismatched china tea sets, blue glass bottles, old tools, black and white pictures, broaches, postcards, shoe making equipment, medalta pottery, 7-up posters, and ten wooden chairs that the owner put outside every morning (even in winter) and brings back in every night. Other than the pirate joy in my heart over finding such treasures, I was a little sad for the white haired owner behind the engraved silver till. While we hunted around he spoke about his trip to Regina because of health conditions, the ache in his leg, and his allergies towards penicillin. I thought "poor old man surrounded by the objects from his past, unable to let go of history, entombed in junk." I was wrong. He was delightful, enjoyed his life, and had a lovely smile on his face as we left. He also gave Meghan a great deal on three antique scoops! One for flour, one for sugar, and one for coffee. Delicious.