Auction

I found myself at an estate auction today. A friend of mine was interested in the car that was to be auctioned off and asked if I would drive him to the auction on the off-chance he ended up buying the car. I had nothing going on so it wasn't a big deal to take him.

We arrived with plenty of time for him to check out the car and get registered as a bidder. We had about half an hour to kill before the car was auctioned, so we split up and walked around and looked at all of the other items for sale.

I found myself enamored with a box full of old postcards, many of which were sent in the early 1900s. The addresses were interesting, as most of the oldest postcards simply had a name, a city, and state. There were no house numbers or post office box numbers and no zip codes. Many had one-cent stamps. What intrigued me the most, however, were the messages. Most were simple, "How are you doing?" inquiries. Others were to let a loved one know that they had arrived safely at their destination. One was a check-in with the parents from a child traveling abroad (the writer had sauerkraut for dinner in Germany). One was clearly written by a child to another child, and it didn't take much to imagine that that postcard was probably the first mail each child sent and received in their lifetime, respectively.

Besides the history and the snippets of people's lives those postcards held, what attracted me the most was that the messages we send each other haven't changed much in the past century; only the methods of delivery have evolved. Today, rather than a postcard that takes a week or more to arrive, we send texts, we post on Facebook or Twitter, we shoot off an email, and so forth. Still, what we are letting others know is that we are alright or that we are thinking of them. It's comforting to know that at our core we have not changed much as a species.

The box also had a small, postcard size, handmade, 4-page book that tracked the attendance of the book's owner at Sunday school. The year written on the top of the first page was 1904. For the record, whomever the book belonged to had perfect Sunday attendance 3 months in a row.

When I finally tore myself away from the postcards I turned to the table behind me, only to discover a "Stephenson's Teachers Examination Question and Answer Book" from 1933. The amount of material this book held was phenomenal! I spent 18 years of my life in school and I probably don't know half of the information in that book. It covered everything from physics to penmanship.

Two pages of the book caught my eye, prompting me to take out my cell phone and get a picture of each page. Each held a poem that I wanted to remember. The first reminded me of Grandpa Kole and Aunt Renee. The second I just really liked.


MY TRUST

I am a teacher -
And trusting, childish eyes
Look unto me confidently,
Their little hands in mine,
To follow me, to anywhere.
Be my way high or low or middle ground
They follow.
Oh, let me feel
What mighty trust is mine!
I am a teacher -

And ardent, restless longing youth
Look unto me expectantly,
Fulfillment of their dreams to aid.
As I lead they follow.
Oh, let me take the upper road
Leading to the heights
And they must follow.
A mighty trust is mine!

Once there was
Known throughout the ages
And over all the world -
The Great Teacher,
Who leads forever to the Light.
His name I bear.
Oh, wondrous thought
That challenges my highest, best.
I am a teacher.

~Caroline S. Woodruff


COURAGE

If fate should steal your happiness
And take it far away,
And then return expectantly
To watch you weep and pray;
Just hold your head up well, dear
And face the threatening years;
Drink the bitter cups she gives,
And smile through all your tears.

Fate knows no law, nor justice,
Nor cares what heart she breaks;
To him who hath enough she gives,
From him who hath naught, takes.
So run your race with lifted head,
And take things like a man;
Don't grieve if Fortune fails you,
You've done the best you can.


I must admit, I am a bit angry with myself for not registering for a number and bidding on both the box of postcards and the teacher book. Live and learn, I guess. Still, it was a fun way to spend an hour and a great exercise in imagine.

Love!

~g