Arriving at 9 Nantasket Ave to Horizon condominiums at 2:30, rows of tables lined up down the sidewalk, each rented from the city for $10. I didn't realized the sale ended at 3pm. The Rotary Club's three tables were still filled with "junk" according to the volunteer, who moments before three o'clock decided, "Everything is free people, just take it! Load up, because don't want to again." An ensuing frenzy and battle of hand-outs began, myself as greedy as the other Hullonians as we pilfered through: used winter clothes, glass ware, random plates, old appliances, tools, piles of Christmas decor and once memorable, cheap souvenirs. I scored two pairs of leather gloves and small lantern candle. An easy sneak onto the boat.
Next stop, a Horizon condo retiree's table displaying his world travels: hand-carved wooden African elephant envelope opener, hand painted Japanese Porcelain sushi sets, the accompanying rice cooker for 25, dive gear... the years he's given up on living. "I just don't want anything anymore. I'm done." I wish I felt the same: I want everything! My mind raced to think of hosting sushi parties on the dock, diving reefs, perhaps, I might even get a real letter one day ( I'm of the AOL generation) and use that awesome opener, and the rice cooker too, of course. Oh and those wooden bowls from Costa Rica marked $12, the big pot for cooking steamers....
"Okay give me $5 for the sushi set, $4 for the bowls, $1 for the pot, kid."
"You are invited to my sushi dinner for sure!"
Next stop, a lady packing up a beautiful hand-painted Chinese plate. The perfect match for my sushi ware. Sold! Half off- $4, down from the marked $8 and two complimentary dish towels.
Pushing her shopping cart of unsold goods by my next sidewalk stop, the table with free strawberry cake with purchase, she stops, "Watch, Chinese plate ware is going to be worth a fortune soon and I sold you my best one."
"Don't worry, I'll find you and we'll split e-bay sales."
She half smiles and carts on.
The last stop: the everything is a nickel table. I collect wooden handled grill-ware and my favorite item, the faded 80s beach chair. I unfold it in the sidewalk and sit, trying it on. Wobbly.
"How much?"
"How much do you want to pay?"
I look at the ripping seat and then back at her.
"Well all needs is some sewing here on the seam or some tape if you can't sew, honey. I've fixed these type of chairs before."
"So what is it worth to you?"
"25 cents is fine."
Five times the inflation rate of her nickel table, more than the black velvet suit and crystal.
One giant brown grocery bag later of "crap" and the pot (wooden bowls stuffed inside) that won't fit inside the bag, I carry my "treasures", along with the beat up chair under the arm and my a apart of my promise, one measly photo to document the sales, to the boat. Hopefully he isn't there, I can stuff things away and present them in ways they will be appreciated as treasures. Sushi dinner by romantic candle light, new spatula when we finally get a grill....
Reality bites. He's there, enjoying a beer (of course)
"What is all this crap?"
"It is only crap when its not valued any longer."
He peaks in the bag, gloves on top, "More clothes!'
"Now they are treasures."
"You need two pairs?"
"Hey- the rule is one bag and they fit."
I toss them into my one permitted bag of clothing allowed on the boat. I down-sized my Miami walk in closet and beautiful guest house of 'treasures' into one suitcase, well three actually (two I stashed at his dad's). A girl sacrificing her wardrobe for one shelf in a boat with a forever breaking head... doesn't he know that means i love you, the boy who lived out of a backpack for the last three years while traveling the world and building a ship in the process while I spent the last three years settled, teaching kids and collecting. An old romance rekindled here in Hullonia. A romance that began in our early twenties when he moved from his hometown of Old Saybrook to Miami with my best friend, his girlfriend at the time. one dinner party at my condo later, "He's all yours babe."
"What are you talking about? You can't hand-me-down a boy! Bags and shoes are different."
"Trust me, he's for you." She left, alone.
Totally offended and deep inside knowing she was right, I gave him a hammock on the patio for six months until he moved onto a boat next to my current boyfriend's boat. The boyfriend, who met him and tearfully broke up with me the next week, "You belong with this guy, not me." Finally, years of friendship later, it all changed during the christina vicky barcelona flick. As fast as love came, it left. We traveled our own ways for the last four years, until this summer.
I opened a fortune cookie: The love of your life will appear before your eyes. Moments later a Facebook message: I'm coming back to America next week, where are you?
And here we are, in Hull, playing ping-pong: treasure vs crap. It continues into many evenings, continues until we for once have dinner in proper bowls and plates, not the minimalist boyfriend's love of less: eating out of pots and the bonus of not having to do dishes. Candle lit. Fresh New England flounder on the fancy chinese plate. Hingham farmer's market salad greens in our own wooden bowls. Chop stixs. soft jazz. Another golden pink sunset across the boston bay sinking into the horizon. A few beers later.... a lot crap becomes priceless treasure. Just like us.
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