This was advertised as an antiques auction and, as we feared, several out-of-town buyers were there. Most, or all, of the items were from the estate of one of our local judges. Most dating from the first and middle thirds of the previous century.

But no real bargains with the professional buyers there.

But not a real crowd, either. Didn't get there until a quarter 'til, and still got to sit on the softer seats in the middle, in the second row. Wife next to an old lady on the aisle.

As we perused the wares, and were greeted by the spotters, I heard the auctioneer's wife explaining that she had discovered the problem with his PA system. Which had been getting him in a near-grumpy mood.

Someone had turned the volume down.

First item on the block was a brass spittoon. Went for $27.50.

Don't know if that's a good price or not.

One of the items I was interested in, a string of Christmas lights in the shapes of palm trees, pyramids and camels, came up early.

And was sold with a huge box of bedding, to a large woman at the end of the front row. #33.

Crap.

This auction was full of things the family of auctioneers claimed they had never had on the block before. Like the marionette skeleton in a tuxedo. I thought he was cool, although a little big at well more than a meter tall.

As a spotter demonstrated the functional jaw, auctioneer pointed out this was apparently a retired auctioneer. Someone up front pointed out that, like a real auctioneer, all you had to do was put fresh batteries in his skull and he's as good as new.

I wanted the skeleton, of course, for absolutely no practical reason. But $40+ was too much for a frivolous indulgence.

A box of stuffed animals came up, including the Heart Bear that comes after major heart surgery (something soft to hug against the chest when the pain gets bad) that the auctioneer recognized immediately.

But he couldn't identify the alien-looking bug with "Y2K" on his chest.

A Millennium Bug.

How quickly we forget.

A wooden juggling pin came up, which Grandpa misidentified as a dumbell, "Just like the one holding it."

When the antique baby carriage was selling, Grandpa announced to the back that "You never know when you're gonna need one of these, Helen."

I don't know. Helen and her husband became grandparents quite a few years ago.

When #29, standing in the back, won an auction, Grandpa's comment was "Boy, that's rare money there."

The young couple behind me and to the left had their daughter, I'm guessing maybe five or six, standing to wave their card to bid on an item. Grandpa stopped mid-chant to congratulate them.

"Teach her young, that's the way to do it."

Our eldest son was less than two when he first bid.

Did you know there was such a thing as a "Dancing Grannies" fitness tape? Auctioneer mentioned there were "some good-lookin' grannies" on there.

"Especially at my age" was his father's retort.

As is apparently human nature, folks would let the auctioneer start his request for bids at a reasonable (or maybe high) amount, and then wait until he had dropped down to some ridiculous amount. Then the bids would quickly rise by small increments, usually exceeding his first asking price.

"Why do you make me work so hard when you know we're gonna get up here?" he asked after one such round.

When #65 bid on an item, Grandpa stopped in mid-chant and asked him "when you gonna come up to put that cover on my thingy-bob?"

"When the snow stops," was the reply.

But the snow "hasn't even started!" was the response. Guess if you've promised to do some contract work for the auctioneers, you'd better not go to an auction until you've got it done, 'cause they'll call you on the carpet in front of everyone.

Our judge apparently collected toys. Several boxes of McDonald's Happy Meal toys in their original packaging (most went cheap... family in front of us bought quite a bit, and let their four kids open them up to play with). Anybody else remember when jacks came in a package for 29 cents? Or marbles in a red box for a dime?

About an hour into the auction, when Grandpa was calling, he suddenly went quiet. And looked around the room for maybe a minute.

Dead silence.

"Nothing happened" was his comment to the nearest spotter, with no further explanation, and on he went.

Now, I don't do these auction entries all from memory. The backs of all our bid cards are covered with tiny blue hand-written notes. It was about this time the old lady sitting next to the wife, who had been visiting and commenting on sales like we were family, turned and asked the wife what "he was writing down."

Wife has never been much of a liar. She just said I like to write down the humorous things that happen here.

Me, I would have said I was taking notes for the IRS.

A box of bedding included a light, lavendar apron. Auctioneer called it the "cutest thing today" and tried to wrap it around their newest spotter.

An hispanic young man in the macho backwards cap and baggy pants. Would have nothing to do with it, spinning across the front to get away from the cooties-filled apron.

Kid's gonna have to loosen up if he wants to be an entertainer with this crew.

While itemizing a box of goods, the auctioneer mentioned the "pretty candles" in the hands of a spotter. Just as the tapers slid out the bottom of the box to shatter on the block and floor.

"To hell with the candles, then," he said, without breaking stride.

A box of tools included an old hammer, which grandpa banged on the table just a couple inches in front of Bill's groin. "Watch that!" was his response, jumping back.

By now we had picked out most of the out-of-town antiques dealers. I pointed out one couple by the door as out-of towners.

Nope, the wife knew the woman. A local. And where she worked. Like so many people she knows in this community.

But that wasn't her husband. And by the way she kept wrapping her arms around the man, it was clear her husband is apparently out of the picture. And she's willing to let the whole town know.

Commented it was a little early for the Spring Shuffle.

Wife agreed. It's not even February, yet.

(For those of you not in the know... it has been observed in our small community, and even reported in several newspapers, that there is quite often a flurry of divorces filed in mid-winter. With wedding announcements of the same people, just shuffled with different partners, the following spring.)

(Really.)

A little before noon, grandpa took the mike and got serious.

He wanted to announce that some of their favorite auction people had recently passed away. And went on to describe Mrs. "Licht", and what a pleasure she had been to have around.

After a brief, silent pause, they then got back to business.

A small ceramic jug of corn whiskey from a local brewery, out of business for decades, came up. Filled with liquid. Auctioneer advised you drink the contents at your own risk.

Wife noticed the tax seals were still on the cork. That was whiskey in that jug. Grandpa knew it, too. When the man in front of us won the bottle, grandpa told him "Don't you sit there and drink that in front of me."

When the same man won some glassware later, grandpa suggested they could share the jug, now.

Ever heard of a television lamp? A ceramic lamp that you set on top of the TV, but only open to the back to highlight the wall behind the set. They had a couple up on the block.

When going through the antique irons, they couldn't identify two with unusual handles. Woman in the crowd identified them as "polishing irons". Used to put a sheen on clothes after they'd been pressed. She said one should have a cross-hatch bottom, the other smooth (she was right).

She then participated in the auction, and won the irons.

"Now that's a sweet lady," commented grandpa "Explaining an item that you're going to bid on. Most folks wouldn't do that."

After a bunch of fine furniture, the auctioneer identified a three-legged table as "antique cherry." His dad reached over to rap on the "wood", and said "That's plastic!"

Auctioneer compromised by calling it an "antique from Taiwan."

Couple in front of us bought it, so their four kids could set their drinks and snacks on it.

Another small piece of real wood furniture was thickly webbed at the bottom. Presumably been stored somewhere for a long time. Auctioneer claims the "cobwebs are older than I am."

And he may have been right.

Had over a half dozen jars of old marbles spread through the auction. When one came up, auctioneer described it as a "cream can". Grandpa corrected him, calling it a "jar." And patiently explaining that "Cans, you can't see through."

With that, the auctioneer passed the mike back to his dad for a while. Who went on to explain how he used to sneak across to his neighbors' houses early in the morning to lick the cream off the top of their milk bottles.

Quite a treat, I guess. I don't think he was kidding.

"Just sell the stuff!" was his son's instructions.

A small statue of a Grecian-looking female nude was described as "a good lookin' broad."

While the antique buyers were there, they apparently aren't into old cloth. Two hand-stitched quilts in good condition only went for $42.50 and $37.50.

It was about this time we finally made our first purchase.

When a set of crescent wrenches came up, grandpa mentioned that" if you haven't skinned your knuckles yet, here's your chance."

Man in the crowd asked "are those metric?"

When the oval picture frame came up, auctioneer and grandpa argued over whose photo was in it, Edgar Allen Poe or Sir Walter Raleigh. (It was William Shakespeare. No, I didn't let them know.)

After one auction, grandpa asked the winner, a woman a couple rows behind us, "That's your number, Tico?" She had to rummage around for a while before she could find her card.

Then she had to ask him:

"What was my bid?"

When the pair of old opera glasses came up (sans handle), grandpa challenged the audience if anyone already had a set of these.

Wife was the first to raise her hand. Grandpa counted four others out loud.

Not to be defeated, he added if you had a pair of opera glasses in this town, you must be a collector, so here's your chance for another pair.

Comment of the husband of the woman who finally won the opera glasses, as they announced her number to the recorder, was "God damn it!"

And nothing more.