Let me preface this article by saying that I am not a woodworker. Two years ago I needed to make a large paraboloidal object out of wood. I was racking my brain: Where will I find such a big block of wood? I don't think my local hardware store carries this. Then my 16 year old tapped me on the shoulder and pointed out the window. He said, "Couldn't we just use that tree that fell down?" We live in the middle of the woods. We heat our house with wood and have a major, beautifully stacked woodpile. Yet I never stopped to think about where all that milled lumber from Lowe's or Home Depot really comes from. Oh, I'd seen trucks rolling down the road with a cargo of tree trunks and knew they were headed to the mill. My neighbors had sold trees to a local hardwood mill. But, seriously, I never thought MY trees could be the source of a turned wooden object. It was a jarring revelation, one that made me realize how 21st century I'd become, how removed from the land I'd become.
I'm not the only one. My husband is a hunter, so at least I know where meat comes from. But one of my omnivore neighbors, a rabid anti-hunter and noted participant at the local annual pig roast, was yelling at me because a deer ran across the road right in front of her and died. It had been shot on the lot opposite my house by an authorized hunter in a tree stand. No one likes to see an animal suffer, so I could understand my neighbor's frustration to a point. She just needed to vent, but sorta went over the top. She started by accusing me of maiming innocent animals, touched on my worth as a neighbor, and ended her diatribe by saying SHE did not make animals suffer. I had been quiet during her rant, but that triggered a nerve. I should have said nothing, but instead I asked her, "But don't you eat meat?" Really, where did she think supermarket meat comes from? Some cow, pig or chicken that spends its days frolicking around a grassy field in the sunshine until one day it just turns up on a shrink-wrapped plastic tray? Having read a few books like Dominion, Omnivore's Dilemma and Animal, Vegetable, Miracle, and having raised (and dispatched) a few farm animals in my day, I have a better idea of how food gets to your table, and it isn't all neat and clean.
Another startling revelation I had was visiting friends in Colorado and West Virginia. Seeing the huge scars on the earth left by mining (Colorado's Climax Molybdenum and southern West Virginia's mountain top removal for coal) made me appreciate the energy and metals we have so readily available. These images are a huge part of what's made me a big fan of "reduce, reuse, recycle." I certainly know that the last time I had to make a run to the hardware store for a specialty drill bit, I considered the ease of obtaining it a modern miracle.
All this leads me to wonder if we wouldn't be better off re-thinking where stuff comes from. Would we appreciate what we have more if we realized a tree was cut down so that our chair could be made or that so many feet of a mountain was carved away so we could heat our home or that an animal had died so that we could have supper on our table? Maybe a little 18th century living might teach us better how to appreciate the things we have and to be better stewards of them, too.
Tuesday, March 17, 2015
Friday, March 13, 2015
The Estate Sale
Have you heard the expression "caveat emptor"? That's Latin for "let the buyer beware." And it applies to hiring an estate sale agent.
My mother died in 2011. She had lived in the same house for 40 years. She and my dad (d. 2003) had accumulated a lot of stuff. Cleaning the house was a daunting task. The filing system was not clear to us. Letters, newspaper clippings, business papers, circulars, family documents, etc., all seemed to inhabit the same space. One sister spent a month of weekends traveling 9 hours each way to/fro Mom's house and sorting through boxes and bags of papers, making numerous runs to the recycling center and county dump to dispose of trash. Another sister focused on clothing and linens. She washed over 18 boxes of fine linens, set them out to dry in the sun, matched the tablecloths and napkins, and neatly folded the lot. She also found homes for many historical items: a set of pristine Pennsylvania Dutch chairs, vellum documents from the 1700's, an early watercolor of Molly Pitcher, for example. I boxed up over 300 patterns and sent them off to the University of Rhode Island's fashion archives, then focused on china and glassware. Boxes of fine, leatherbound gardening books were sold to an antiquarian bookseller. Twenty boxes more were donated to the Philadelphia Horticultural Society. We heirs claimed items designated for us. Many items were given away to family and friends. And, yet, there was still more. We decided we needed help.
We weren't sure which way to go: sell things piecemeal? have an appraiser over? have an on-site estate sale? have an off-site estate sale? We took photos of a few special items and began investigating their worth and where they could be sold. This was interesting, to be sure, but the concept of spending the time and energy on all Mom and Dad's possessions was unthinkable. I asked an appraiser, recommended by a local antique dealer, to come to the house. The appraiser came, walked through the house, and proceeded to explain her terms for conducting an estate sale. She would not do any appraising. One of my sisters got recommendations for additional estate sale agents. She spoke with them both, thought one was rather coarse, and preferred the other. I, being the only local sister, was tasked with meeting him in person. It turned out he was having an estate sale in a neighborhood just 15 minutes away. I went. Both he and the sale were very positive. We decided to hire him as our estate sale agent.
The contract I signed--stupidly--gave the estate sale agent broad powers. He was allowed to set prices and remove items for future sales. He was also not held accountable for anything that was stolen or broken. He told me--spoken word--that he would run an ad in the local paper (The Washington Post) and that he would have a three day sale since there was so much stuff. My sisters and I moved into high gear and worked diligently to make the house as presentable as possible for the hordes of people that would be invited into our parents' home. While we were all working together, the estate sale agent came by to see how things were going. "You have cleaned up so nicely!" he beamed. He also mentioned the sale would be a two-day sale. No reason was given. Finally it was time to turn the house over to the estate agent so that he could "set up".
During the week the agent had to set up, I had a few occasions to run over to Mom's house to pick things up. The week went something like this: Day 1, no sign the agent had been there. Day 3, two metal bookshelves were sitting in the patio. Day 5, lockable glass-topped display cases were in the house, a few pieces of furniture had been moved, a pile of items from the dining room table lay is disarray on the floor of the entry room. I received an email that he was going to work late into the night to set up for the sale. During this same time, he was supposed to have advertised the sale. My sister noted early in the week that he had a small blurb on his website about an upcoming sale at my mom's house, but that the lengthy description posted was for the previous week's sale. The agent told me he was having computer difficulties. The site was updated by Friday. The agent had also told me and my sister, pre-contract, that he would run an ad in the local newspaper.
Monday after the sale, I returned to the house. It looked like it had been raped. The pile of items from the dining room table was still on the entry room floor. Linens that my sister had carefully washed, folded and sorted were strew about like so much confetti. Linings had been ripped out of jackets, coats and suitcases. Everything on my mother's bedroom dresser had been brushed to the floor; in fact, I almost cut myself on the pieces of glass hidden amongst the debris on the floor. Pictures had been removed from frames, and these same frames dropped hither and yon. Hats and hat boxes had been disgorged from the closet and trampled upon. Purses and vintage clothes lay in disarray everywhere. Items from the kitchen were found in the basement. Old 78 rpm records were shattered on the floor. I cried.
The estate sale agent, by terms of our contract, had permission to remove items from the house to sell over the next 2 months. I asked for a written inventory of items removed. (I never did get it.) He became difficult to get hold of--stopped answering telephone calls from my phone number, never returned phone messages, and avoided questions in emails, although he acknowledged the emails. When the accounting for the on-site sale was due, he was sick. The accounting--a photocopy of handwritten ledgers--was turned in finally and included several "miscellaneous" groupings that could have covered any number of items. I entered everything into a spreadsheet and compared items to photographs we had taken. The most obvious group of items unaccounted for was several thousand dollars worth of sterling silver (based on weight alone). When the final ledger came in 2 months later, I scrutinized the lists for silver and found only a handful of it there. I emailed the agent. "I guess the silver all sold at the on-site sale," he suggested casually. I guess!?
Well, it took some time, but armed with my 6'5" son and photographs of the silver hallmarks , I was able to confront the sales agent who miraculously had his memory restored--"Oh, yes, I did sell those to a dealer."--the estate received financial restitution for these previously unaccounted for items.
So, what are the lessons learned for this experience? For me, they would go like this:
1. Consult the Better Business Bureau, yelp, Angie's List, etc. If the estate sales agent has a negative review, look elsewhere. My agent, for instance, had several negative yelp reviews. How I wish I'd looked before hiring him. Your local consumer protection agency might also be able to tell you if an agency has complaints on file.
2. Separate out fine pieces and sell those separately, on craigslist, through an auction house, etc. Consider using an appraiser for those items, as well. The American Society of Appraisers might help you find a reliable, local appraiser. Although one sales agent said removing high end items would discourage high end customers from showing up at the sale, I don't think it would have made an iota of difference in this case. Our sales agent did not advertise the items in the estate.
3. Review any contract carefully before signing. Hold on to your rights to set prices, remove items, have a detailed inventory of what sold or what was removed. Understand in detail, exactly how long the sale will run, how it will be advertized, etc. Have it in writing. Also, know the exact terms of what will happen with items left after the sale. My agent said, "Oh, we can clean up the house after the sale for you." I didn't realize that meant he would do so only if I forked over $2000.
4. Remember that it's only stuff. Estate sales generally do not bring in top dollar for items. It's really just a way to empty a house. Even if you get ripped off, like we did, it's only stuff. The love of one's parents is a treasure beyond price, worth so much more than any thing in their house.
5. Get rid of stuff you don't need. When I had to sort through my parents' possessions, I came home and looked through my own home with new eyes. The thrift store drop off bay has become my new best friend.
My mother died in 2011. She had lived in the same house for 40 years. She and my dad (d. 2003) had accumulated a lot of stuff. Cleaning the house was a daunting task. The filing system was not clear to us. Letters, newspaper clippings, business papers, circulars, family documents, etc., all seemed to inhabit the same space. One sister spent a month of weekends traveling 9 hours each way to/fro Mom's house and sorting through boxes and bags of papers, making numerous runs to the recycling center and county dump to dispose of trash. Another sister focused on clothing and linens. She washed over 18 boxes of fine linens, set them out to dry in the sun, matched the tablecloths and napkins, and neatly folded the lot. She also found homes for many historical items: a set of pristine Pennsylvania Dutch chairs, vellum documents from the 1700's, an early watercolor of Molly Pitcher, for example. I boxed up over 300 patterns and sent them off to the University of Rhode Island's fashion archives, then focused on china and glassware. Boxes of fine, leatherbound gardening books were sold to an antiquarian bookseller. Twenty boxes more were donated to the Philadelphia Horticultural Society. We heirs claimed items designated for us. Many items were given away to family and friends. And, yet, there was still more. We decided we needed help.
We weren't sure which way to go: sell things piecemeal? have an appraiser over? have an on-site estate sale? have an off-site estate sale? We took photos of a few special items and began investigating their worth and where they could be sold. This was interesting, to be sure, but the concept of spending the time and energy on all Mom and Dad's possessions was unthinkable. I asked an appraiser, recommended by a local antique dealer, to come to the house. The appraiser came, walked through the house, and proceeded to explain her terms for conducting an estate sale. She would not do any appraising. One of my sisters got recommendations for additional estate sale agents. She spoke with them both, thought one was rather coarse, and preferred the other. I, being the only local sister, was tasked with meeting him in person. It turned out he was having an estate sale in a neighborhood just 15 minutes away. I went. Both he and the sale were very positive. We decided to hire him as our estate sale agent.
The contract I signed--stupidly--gave the estate sale agent broad powers. He was allowed to set prices and remove items for future sales. He was also not held accountable for anything that was stolen or broken. He told me--spoken word--that he would run an ad in the local paper (The Washington Post) and that he would have a three day sale since there was so much stuff. My sisters and I moved into high gear and worked diligently to make the house as presentable as possible for the hordes of people that would be invited into our parents' home. While we were all working together, the estate sale agent came by to see how things were going. "You have cleaned up so nicely!" he beamed. He also mentioned the sale would be a two-day sale. No reason was given. Finally it was time to turn the house over to the estate agent so that he could "set up".
During the week the agent had to set up, I had a few occasions to run over to Mom's house to pick things up. The week went something like this: Day 1, no sign the agent had been there. Day 3, two metal bookshelves were sitting in the patio. Day 5, lockable glass-topped display cases were in the house, a few pieces of furniture had been moved, a pile of items from the dining room table lay is disarray on the floor of the entry room. I received an email that he was going to work late into the night to set up for the sale. During this same time, he was supposed to have advertised the sale. My sister noted early in the week that he had a small blurb on his website about an upcoming sale at my mom's house, but that the lengthy description posted was for the previous week's sale. The agent told me he was having computer difficulties. The site was updated by Friday. The agent had also told me and my sister, pre-contract, that he would run an ad in the local newspaper.
Monday after the sale, I returned to the house. It looked like it had been raped. The pile of items from the dining room table was still on the entry room floor. Linens that my sister had carefully washed, folded and sorted were strew about like so much confetti. Linings had been ripped out of jackets, coats and suitcases. Everything on my mother's bedroom dresser had been brushed to the floor; in fact, I almost cut myself on the pieces of glass hidden amongst the debris on the floor. Pictures had been removed from frames, and these same frames dropped hither and yon. Hats and hat boxes had been disgorged from the closet and trampled upon. Purses and vintage clothes lay in disarray everywhere. Items from the kitchen were found in the basement. Old 78 rpm records were shattered on the floor. I cried.
The estate sale agent, by terms of our contract, had permission to remove items from the house to sell over the next 2 months. I asked for a written inventory of items removed. (I never did get it.) He became difficult to get hold of--stopped answering telephone calls from my phone number, never returned phone messages, and avoided questions in emails, although he acknowledged the emails. When the accounting for the on-site sale was due, he was sick. The accounting--a photocopy of handwritten ledgers--was turned in finally and included several "miscellaneous" groupings that could have covered any number of items. I entered everything into a spreadsheet and compared items to photographs we had taken. The most obvious group of items unaccounted for was several thousand dollars worth of sterling silver (based on weight alone). When the final ledger came in 2 months later, I scrutinized the lists for silver and found only a handful of it there. I emailed the agent. "I guess the silver all sold at the on-site sale," he suggested casually. I guess!?
Well, it took some time, but armed with my 6'5" son and photographs of the silver hallmarks , I was able to confront the sales agent who miraculously had his memory restored--"Oh, yes, I did sell those to a dealer."--the estate received financial restitution for these previously unaccounted for items.
So, what are the lessons learned for this experience? For me, they would go like this:
1. Consult the Better Business Bureau, yelp, Angie's List, etc. If the estate sales agent has a negative review, look elsewhere. My agent, for instance, had several negative yelp reviews. How I wish I'd looked before hiring him. Your local consumer protection agency might also be able to tell you if an agency has complaints on file.
2. Separate out fine pieces and sell those separately, on craigslist, through an auction house, etc. Consider using an appraiser for those items, as well. The American Society of Appraisers might help you find a reliable, local appraiser. Although one sales agent said removing high end items would discourage high end customers from showing up at the sale, I don't think it would have made an iota of difference in this case. Our sales agent did not advertise the items in the estate.
3. Review any contract carefully before signing. Hold on to your rights to set prices, remove items, have a detailed inventory of what sold or what was removed. Understand in detail, exactly how long the sale will run, how it will be advertized, etc. Have it in writing. Also, know the exact terms of what will happen with items left after the sale. My agent said, "Oh, we can clean up the house after the sale for you." I didn't realize that meant he would do so only if I forked over $2000.
4. Remember that it's only stuff. Estate sales generally do not bring in top dollar for items. It's really just a way to empty a house. Even if you get ripped off, like we did, it's only stuff. The love of one's parents is a treasure beyond price, worth so much more than any thing in their house.
5. Get rid of stuff you don't need. When I had to sort through my parents' possessions, I came home and looked through my own home with new eyes. The thrift store drop off bay has become my new best friend.
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