Do you ever go to garage sales? I may not need anything, yet when I see the sign, “Garage Sale,” I am drawn to them and usually find special little treasures.

There seems to be a flow to life as well as to garage sales. It goes in waves as people get rid of the same kind of things each season. Come along with me as we catch a glimpse into some of the lives of people I stumbled upon as I ventured out to some garage sales.

It looked as though it might rain as I parked my car in front of some houses having sales. I walked up and began looking around. Seeing some things of interest I began talking to the woman having the sale. As we spoke, I gazed at a small old-fashioned, wooden telephone table. I felt drawn to it and asked the woman to tell me about it. She said it had been handmade by her grandfather who was 85 and had just recently passed away. She told me that she loved him and all the woodworking he had diligently and lovingly created. I liked the smoothness of the wood and how the little drawer glided as I opened it. I asked her the price then told her, “Sold, I have the perfect place for it.” She went on to say how she had many, many handmade items of her grandfather’s there that day but everything else had sold. I told her how much I loved wood, that I wouldn’t paint it, and would take care of it and give it a good home. While paying her, I noticed tears welling up in her eyes. She said she didn’t know where all the other furniture went to that day and no one else had told her they would give it a good home. She appeared to be comforted by my words. She carried it to the car for me and carefully placed it in the trunk. Smiling, she said she was glad I bought this little table because she knew it would have a good home. Standing in the street we shared a hug. I felt good; she felt good. She smiled back at me as I drove off.

Will you still need me
will you still feed me
when I’m sixty-four?

                          Paul McCartney

Later that day, I came across another garage sale. Three adult sisters were putting it on. They had grown up in this house and now had to sell everything of their father’s because he had Alzheimers and would not be using any of the things again. The sisters were all married and had moved away from home: one to New York, one moved up north in Michigan and one went to California. This was rare for them to all be together at the same time, but it was necessary for them to help their mother with this sale. She was a small, fragile woman. The husband/father had done woodworking and also made many fine things. He worked on making rugs and stitching pictures using different kinds of yarns. The daughters told me that he didn’t recognize them anymore. I looked up at the house and noticed a young girl at the back door looking out at us. She was his granddaughter. They told me she wanted to spend as much time with him as she could. Emotion filled their voices as they shared experiences from the past. I bought several of his handmade things. The mother scurried to find me a bag. As I was leaving the sale, I told the sisters and mother about a movie I had seen earlier that day called The Notebook.

The Notebook is a love story that was centered around an older man who reads aloud to an older, woman. She is in a nursing home suffering from Alzheimers. From a notebook, he reads the story of a couple who is separated by World War II and is passionately reunited, seven years later, after they have taken different paths. Allie and Noah loved each other as childhood sweethearts. Noah went away to the service and wrote to Allie every day. She never got the mail. So after writing for 365 days he gave up on her. She had waited excitedly for the mail but her mother prevented her from knowing about it. As the man read to her in the nursing home, she commented that it seemed like she had lived this story before. She didn’t realize that the notebook he was reading from was what Allie had written about the two of them, many years earlier. She was reliving their love story. Their feelings for each other never changed. He had built her a house as he promised he would one day. She saw it and realized that it was the house they talked about when they were younger. They now had 3 adult children who she (Allie) did not recognize when they came to visit her in the nursing home. Nor did she recognize Noah (her husband) who lived at the home to be near her.

Doing the garden,
digging the weeds
who could ask for more,
Will you still need me,
will you still feed me,
when I’m sixty-four...

Paul McCartney wrote this tune when he was 14-years-old. Many years later, he wrote the lyrics to this tune, “When I’m sixty-four” in honor of his Dad who was then sixty-four. June 18, 2006 was Paul McCartney’s birthday. He turned 64.

Last weekend my daughter Theresa had a garage sale. I went over to her house on the first day to help her and to just hang out. It began to get a little dark outside, so we went inside the house to look at some more things for her sale. She said that she told her dad, who was a carpenter and a home builder, (as was her grandfather), that she needed a toolbox for her home. He recently came for a visit from Atlanta and presented her with a tool box all her own. He carefully opened it showing her everything he had specially filled it with, just for her. A small hammer, saw and all other kinds of tools, nails, etc. She was very touched. When she told this to me and showed me the toolbox, we both realized how special this gift was from a father to his daughter.

The real treasures I receive when garage saling are those of the heart as I listen to the experiences and stories of the people I encounter along the way. Their heartfelt stories are more precious than any material objects.

If you want to feel rich
just count all the things
you have that money can’t buy

Will you still need me

will you still feed me

when I’m sixty-four?

Gerri Magee is director of advertising and public relations and assistant to the editor of phenomeNEWS. She continues to share her thoughts “On The Path” in this column. You can write her at gerri@phenomenews.com.