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Rookie Mom

Let yard sales be treasure hunts

By KATHERINE SNOW SMITH
Published September 25, 2005

My mom or dad had to wake me up early, reminding me that Ruth Arden would be by to pick me up at 7 a.m. sharp. Once I realized what day it was, Saturday, I was eager to get dressed, race through a bowl of cereal and wait on the front steps.

Ruth Arden Green was our neighbor, two doors up. My sister and I also called her our fairy godmother. She was a master at the art of yard sale shopping. When I was between the ages of about 6 and 10, she took me out regularly on Saturday mornings to spend a few hours finding treasures in other people's discards.

It's not as if she didn't have enough "new" treasures of her own. She and her husband, Ed, traveled the globe regularly, visiting several different states and countries each year. They didn't have any children or grandchildren, so my sister and I were lucky enough to fill the latter roles.

Ruth Arden, who would never answer to just Ruth, arrived dressed as if she were shopping at Saks instead of strangers' driveways and garages. She would excitedly show me the classifieds where she had circled and ranked the best prospects with a red felt tip marker. She usually brought a little cooler packed with two ice cold Cokes and some pound cake. If we needed a snack, we didn't want to lose precious yard sale time in search of fast food.

I came armed with a few dollars stuffed tightly in my football-shaped change purse. Ruth Arden had taught me how to pace myself, not buying too much at the first sale. But if ever I did end up short when I saw something I really wanted, my fairy godmother was always happy to share her "emergency stash" tucked safely in the lining of her pocketbook.

I still have a few of the things I bought with her. There's the open clamshell with a tiny Japanese garden inside, complete with bridges and a waterwheel that actually moves. I somehow lost the lid but still have the tiny, jeweled perfume bottle. And I have the wooden, octagon-shaped pocketbook with Holly Hobby girls decoupaged on each side. (Last year I saw a similar one with fairies instead of Holly Hobby at an antiques store in New York for $150. I wouldn't part with mine.)

Ed died in 2003. Ruth Arden has been afflicted with Alzheimer's for several years. She recognizes my father but not me. It's because of her that I now love taking my girls, ages 6 and 8, to yard sales. Where else can you come home with an armload of treasures after spending just $3?

I try to allow them the same independence she allowed me. If it's their own money, they get to decide what to buy. How wrong can they go when things cost 50 cents? When we get near that $4 price range, which is rare for what they're interested in, I step in. We use the motto of another friend and yard sale enthusiast: "When in doubt, leave it out."

In recent weeks, they've come home with American Girl books, a dog-shaped picture frame, a Beanie Baby stuffed frog, a wooden gingerbread house and a basket divided into six smaller compartments. We also found a beautiful wicker pocketbook with velvet lining and butterflies painted on top.

Ruth Arden would love it.

So take your kids, a few small bills and the classifieds out one Saturday morning for an hour or so. Yard sales offer retail therapy and fun family bonding at cut-rate prices.

You can reach Katherine Snow Smith by e-mail at snowsmith@verizon.net or write Rookie Mom, St. Petersburg Times, PO Box 1121, St. Petersburg, FL 33731.

[Last modified September 25, 2005, 02:15:40]