Antiquing? Why Yes We Are!

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Added: Sun. Feb 07, 2010 4:21pm
Posted in: Aging

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Yes, with every passing day, we are ourselves antiquing.  Our patinas are ripening; our chair legs are wobbly; our paint is peeling and we can be found just about anywhere.  With a little regular care, some nice oils, nails in the right places and a fresh coat, we baby boomers are now the cat’s meow.  Everyone wants to sell us things.  But, truth be told, a few would probably like to just sell US!

People are finding us in the most unlikely places.  As the young’uns browse  through their own life stores, they’ll see us in a dark, forgotten corner and realize our worth.  They’ll come running over, blow the dust off and look deeply at our goodness, reflective of all the sage advice we’ve given them.  They know exactly where they’ll put us in their shiny, modular, brand new downtown condo.  We’re expensive because of our own life experiences, but they’ll charge us on their cards, cuz that’s just what they do.

When we’re delivered, the adult child ponders the perfect spot to put us.  In the bedroom..nah, too small a room, and who wants us staring at their most intimate moments in that room...ick.  Right next to the kitchen bar with the black granite countertop and matching black speckled, square leather and chrome bar chairs....Hmmm....nope, not right to have something so old and worn butting up against something young, hip and modern.  “Oh Gawd,” the child thinks, “maybe I should take that old thing back.”

Then, it becomes perfectly clear.  We’re lovingly placed in the most prominent spot in the living room where everyone gathers and spends the majority of their living time...looking at US, admiring, laughing, crying, talking about and generally thrilled at us, because we serve as the antique base for the 52-inch flat-screen television!  And, during commercials, their gaze can’t help but wander to us with memories of our long-ago grandeur.  They’re so happy to have us in their home, and we’re thrilled to have a purpose and a patina.

Waxing wistfully,

KK

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Okay, I have to admit it to myself; I am an antique.  I heard a long time ago that if a thing is over fifty years old, it is considered to be an antique.  Sometimes a flaw makes an antique even more valuable.  Could this be the same for people?  Our grandfather, Edward T. Kelly, always said, “A girl isn’t interesting unless she’s a little spoiled.”  And, you know we girls are always attracted to those bad boys.  It’s not exciting unless he has that little scent of danger.  Or maybe a Corvette.

If I was an antique, I would probably be a pretty tea pot.  You would buy me.  I am hand painted, with a design of peonies and robins, and there is a slight crack in my handle.  I am Royal Dalton china, highly prized.  I will end up on your kitchen window sill.  You will put some daisies from the garden in me.  I am happy.

I’m afraid the reality is that I am that useful, red plastic Tupper Ware bowl that your mother bought for seventy five cents at a Tupper Ware party in 1960.  Over fifty years old.  Antique.  Valuable because it was the bowl she always used for the macaroni salad.  Now prized because you can microwave left-over spaghetti in it, and the bowl won’t melt.

Besides, the Royal Dalton teapot lid was never found.  And have you ever smelled the water after daisies have been in it for a week?  It smells like your grandmother’s breath after a pack of Winstons and a Fritio Pie.  See?  It’s all relative.   And….

I am happy.

SalGal