On Death And History

Last weekend, my son and I were on our way to go bowling. He's been with me on enough of my sales jaunts now that he's almost as excited as I am when we see the signs popping up on the side of the road indicating a sale. He had just turned 6, and I guess in his old age, mortality was weighing heavily on his mind when we saw a sign that said "Estate Sale, Turn Here".

"Estate sale... that means that someone died, right, Daddy?" I confirm the grim observation as we draw close to the house. "Yeah," he concludes... for he knows all about these things -- "A garage or yard sale means that someone has too much stuff. A moving sale means someone's moving! An estate sale means that someone died."

"That's right, buddy."

There's not much at the sale. It had already been picked pretty clean by the time we show up, and we quickly walk through the house. There are only a few technical manuals and some work clothes. I was expecting more until passing by the operators of the sale discussing the particulars. My son, being the walking pint-size radar receiver that he is, takes in what was being said.

"Suicide. That means he killed himself."

I sigh. Oh, the loss of innocent youth in our day and age. O Tempora! O Mores!

"That's right, buddy."

He responds with that question that every child asks and every parent struggles to answer: "Why?"

After a very brief and light-hearted (considering the subject matter) explanation, it's time for bowling.

As we bowl, I'm checking CraigsList for other listings. I'm not in full-on "go hunting" mode, but hey, if there're easy pickings out there, I want in. I find a listing for another estate sale on the opposite side of town. My son is willing to go, so we put back on our street shoes after a couple of games and hurry over -- the sale closes at 4pm, and we have an hour left.

It's the twilight moments of the sale and the operators tell me that I can have whatever I can fit in a paper grocery bag for $5. I'm not interested in the clothes nor the dishes -- the other scavengers can have at that. I'm interested in what was listed: 8-track cassettes, and I find them toward the back. I spy around 30 or so and start stuffing them into the bag, doing the math in my head... 16 cents a piece, and hellooooo Elvis! Sweet! How Great Thou Art, indeed! How great thou art gonna pad my PayPal account, that is!

My enthusiasm must have shown. "Did you see the tapes over here?" One of the operators points to a large box brimming with low fidelity goodness -- but, this was an "on a whim" journey and I only had $9 in cash on me and tell the operator that sad fact. "Oh, well, just tell the woman up front I said you can have them all for $9." My heart jumps a little bit. There are 90 cassettes. We're at a dime a pop. Today must be my lucky day....

"Did you see the records over there?" I start flipping through them -- mostly classical & gospel, but all in fairly decent condition -- around 80 of them at a glance. Again, I start thinking about where there is an ATM nearby.

"Oh, we want to close up. Just take them."

"Are you sure?" They nod. I know better than to press the point. "Ok, buddy... you're gonna have to help me carry these." My son, even though he knows that there are no toys here or anything that strikes his interest, notes that I've got a huge grin on my face and happily joins in when I tell him that we can go to Taco Casa for dinner if he helps me load up the car.

At this point, everything works out to around six cents an item. By some stroke of luck, eBay also offers that for a promotional week: listing is free for as much as you want. Monday rolls around, the boy is off at daycare, and I have some spare time -- I start listing the tapes. Since I'm a relatively new seller, my cap is limited to 100 items or $5000 per month. These are 8-track cassettes and I know I won't hit my dollar limit, but item limit... um...

I end up calling eBay to find out if my limit can be increased. For what it's worth, their customer service department is prompt in calling me back. The news isn't as hot, though -- because I'm a new seller, they claim they can't increase my limit for another 45 days. Well, I guess I'll have to be choosy about which ones I put up.

I get an email. "Your selling limit has increased!" They must have had a change of heart. Outstanding! I can list all the 8-tracks I have. This past week, many have sold, more than making up for the money spent at the estate sale. I haven't even listed the records. Oh, I suppose I should probably go through them and see which ones I can put up for sale...

As I start in on the records, I start noticing that the previous owner jumbled them up. I end up playing a nice "match the record with the cover" game and doing quick searches to find out the rarity of the albums. There are three that I consider "money" records... that by rights, should sell for more than $10 a piece. The others, well, I'll figure out a way to "lot" them together at some point.

There are two anomalies in among the vinyl, however. One seems to be a test pressing from 1959 by The Lindsay Family -- a quick Google search only comes back with a modern family of musicians that have even been featured on an HBO special or something. Further research is needed to find out if this record is from a previous generation's incarnation of the tuneful clan. I can only hope, since that hopefully will bring some interest.

The other anomaly is a record without a sleeve that seems to be a gospel chorus of a church located in California. Google tells me that it's a small church with around 35 members these days. Out of curiosity, I find a number for the minister and give him a ring. He's an 80 year old man who at first doesn't understand what I'm talking about. "Is this a CD?" "No, sir. This is a vinyl record -- at a guess from the 1960's. It says that the chorus leader is so-and-so and features blah-blah-these-people."

"Oh! Ah, yes. I remember them now... most of them are dead. I bet it's probably worth something, but I don't have any money..."

"No, sir. I figured your congregation might find it interesting if any of the members on this record are still alive, or perhaps their children. I'll just ship it to you. I don't want anything for it, I figured it should be a part of your church's history."

He thanks me, and tomorrow I'll be making good with my promise. Ok, big deal -- five dollars in shipping and who knows how much the record is worth to me -- but I'll hazard a guess that it'll be worth more to the people who are related to the music. I'll take the karma points. C.R.E.A.M... but I'm not that greedy.

Go home, gospel record. You're history.