Jilly Brandon

Young or old, vintage, antique, slightly used, borrowed, twice loved, second hand, thrift store treasures, we all can fit into these various categories be it in the form of inanimate objects or otherwise.

Some of these descriptives are palatable, and we are are quite happy to use them to describe clothing, furniture, dishes, and yes people too .

There are those who are keepers, meaning they like to keep everything, and all is sentimental to them unless they decide to move from home base then there can be a lifetime of collections that are accumulated in the household. Decisions of what to keep and what to purge can turn stressful real fast .

I have a good friend in Colorado who used to live across the street from me, and we raised our kids together in the early years. She used to go out with her friend every so often and they would go ” junking” as she called it. I was intrigued .. what exactly was this ” junking” and how did I get in?

It was just what you might expect or maybe this will be a fresh term to cultivate because what exactly is junk? Looking through markets and thrift stores for previously used cast off items the two of them would find new treasures to add to their collections. The phrase, ” one man’s trash is another man’s treasure” is applicable . They would have a day of laughter and exploration and spend little cash searching for things that must be enjoyed again and again that could be picked up for next to nothing , but they were captivated by every second of the discovery process, because who does not love a scavenger hunt ?

My friend and I would every so often put pieces of furniture we were no longer utilizing out in our trash on garbage day. This happened more than once that I would call her, or she would call me, and we would shop from our windows perusing one anothers’ cast off pieces . The conversation would start out with laughter, as I would say,

” can I take that bedside table out of your garbage today? ”

And she would always say,

” sure of course.”

She would find something desirable from amongst my refuse, and then the same question would be posed to me either that same trash day, or the next week, and so it was in the hood where we lived , we just traded junk, and we loved it .

It was so satisfying, I don’t think I can even convey this properly . No money exchanged hands, but an agreeable trade was made , and we each thought we had saved from the refuse an item that would live to see another day in our homes. It felt triumphant like we were doing the greatest of deeds to assist our fellow woman . We were not curing cancer, or ending world hunger, stopping all wars or the important things of life but somehow it felt needed and our duty to save an antique piece from proposed oblivion.

Such is the thing with passing down of items from one to another. It can be seen as a blessing or a curse. Who is to decide this except for the recipient of the saved piece?

Some like to collect, while others like to purge. I could go more into what I think that all means, but I’m no Pschologist. It is intriguing to observe one another’s’ processes as we go forward in life.

I had an oak Hoosier cabinet that was an antique and had meant a lot to me. It wasn’t so much the actual piece of furniture, but rather the journey it had taken with me .

I had first glimpsed it in my uncle’s basement in the old farmhouse out on the Canadian prairies in Saskatchewan. To say that it was a rough diamond was to put it rather mildly. it was covered in layers of multiple colored paint. Obviously it had been used for many things, and had been on quite the adventure throughout its life.

I believe it had originally been in my Nanny’s kitchen, in the old farmhouse where it had stored dried goods, and had held a block of ice for cold storage . There was a lot of prepping, canning and love surrounding this piece. I could feel that she wanted to be saved, she spoke to me as furniture often does.

My uncle had asked me what I wanted for a wedding gift, since I was engaged to he married, and was out visiting at the farm with my fiancé at the time.

I asked for the delapatated Hoosier cabinet . I think my fiancé thought I was nuts in the head to find any worth in this piece of junk. He capitulated, and agreed to trailer this piece a thousand plus miles back to Ontario

We were driving a pick up truck, and rented a trailer which we strapped the piece of furniture onto . I had a vision of bringing this old girl back to her former glory . I had known that my Mom was great at refinishing furniture, so I was a girl with a plan and a goal .

We set out on our cross country adventure driving from west to east, and my 84 year old “Nanny” decided to jump at this chance to go on this adventure with us, even though she already had a plane ticket to fly east, she chose this time with us. I shall never forget this experience.

The three of us abreast in the front seat of the little black ford pickup . It was cozy. Nanny would gaze out the window while firmly gripping the paper map with pink arthritic fingers, and comment on the cumulus cloud formations forming, which could indicate rain. We needed to stop for lunch at precisely 12:00 noon, and supper obviously needed to happen at 6:00 pm sharp.

We got to know one another a lot better. I smile every time I think about it. She was a spunky full of life hard working, loving of Jesus and her family kind of Grandmother, and I loved her dearly.

My Mother and my husband refinished and brought out the warm grain of the oak after spending countless hours scraping and peeling, sanding, and likely rolling their eyes at this project, but they kept at it, and the result was a veritable transformation. The enamel pull out counter was in beautiful shape, and the metal hinges were cleaned, and remounted.

This piece has travelled with me these last 30 years, but more recently I knew it was time to let her go. She was in the showroom at the shop where I once worked, and went into auction and was sold in the last few months.

What I was not expecting was the feeling of loss this piece of furniture would create in me when she was bought and brought to her next home. Who knew a piece of furniture could do this to a person?

I realize that it’s not truly the “Hoosier cabinet” I was grieving but really all that it represented. It was the ending, the period to a time and space that needed to happen .

If my Mum was still alive, I know she would have stepped in and said ” no” to the selling of the piece, as it would have meant something to her too, and she enjoyed collecting numerous items.

Taking a moment to think of her, and all of her talents and gifts, and all that she embedded within me about saving and creating, and getting my hands dirty. Mum was a farmhand at heart and saw endless possibilities in the re purposing and reuse of seemingly junk pieces. She would put things together, and loved to fix things. I have her tool belts, and her garden clippers, and I will never hang my clothes on wire hangers in the closet without thinking of how many uses she found for coat hangers.

Mum you were industrious and smart, loyal , loving and challenging, and I miss your presence in my life, and in those of my sons. You were competitive, and fiercely loyal, and you taught me much, especially about finding value in things that might go unnoticed .

Furniture can be refinished and brought back to life, but people take a little more care, patience and love , but so worth it. Sometimes covered with layers of paint, and hidden in a dark basement, it takes time for a re birthing to find the beauty of the grain of the human beneath .