CHAPTER 2 - THE SEARCH BEGINS
The Red Barn lady gave the boys somewhat vague directions. Had she been there before? She said it was close to Freeport, a very small town west of Harper and east of Anthony.
Wayne missed the initial trip because Roger pretended to go to school, but stealthily took Harry, the name his sister, Connie, gave the 50 Chevy. With the help of locals adding directions, he drove the back roads on an adventure he would never forget.
Roger approached the 1/4 mile driveway to the old, fading, white two-story farmhouse. He was pretty excited heading down the rutted driveway, with some trepidation of whether he was at the right residence or not. He pulled up to the house that had no fence around it and not much of a yard either. His first impression was that this place had a slew of cats for there were 10 or more multicolored cats in various forms of employment in feline endeavors. At least he saw no dogs that might challenge his walk to knock on the door. This is when he made his first "I spy a treasure," the first of hundreds to come. Looking down, he saw several cats eating food placed in an upturned World War II Nazi Army helmet without a liner.
“Wow! What must this man have in that house?” was Roger's reaction. Plus, he bet Hardy would sell the helmet to him. Roger was soon crestfallen. Nobody came to the knocking of the door. Young boys do not have much patience, especially when their collecting fever is on full alert. He got back into Harry and waited, looking out and viewing all the old horse-pulled farm equipment Hardy had acquired.
Roger was rewarded for waiting. Less than 30 minutes later, the very old man returned. Young people think middle age is old, but they regard someone in their 80s as ancient. However, Roger’s great-grandmother, Mayme Holmes Grisby, had convinced him that a person might be old, but could still have a lively and loving heart. It turned out to be the case with Hardy as Roger came to know him over the next couple of years.
Hardy greeted Roger with a question, "What's your business here?" Roger told him that he was a collector, too, and the lady at the Red Barn said that he might have some edge weapons to sell. Hardy didn't say yes or no, he just invited Roger in.
This part of the story might be a struggle for readers, especially fellow collectors who have been so infected there is no treatment center to help them overcome their illness. Hardy, a retired farmer and one-time railroad worker (to mention two from his jack-of-all-trades resume), had started collecting while in his twenties and had continued for over 60 years. Much of this time was before antiques and collectibles were of considerable value.
Hardy's home was overflowing with a vast array of no apparent theme or design to his taste; he had everything. Roger later learned that Hardy did have special areas of collecting, but it was not evident in Roger's first impression.
A glass fronted china cabinet stuffed with various items of glassware stood in each corner of the front room. Each cabinet also had three drawers on its lower level. On the next trip, Hardy showed Roger and Wayne that the drawers contained one of Hardy's specialized collections: pocket watches and railroad watches. They varied from the everyday inexpensive to many fancy gold and silver ornate watches. Yet, what amazed the boys was that all four cabinets’ three drawers had watches held in special cut out layers. How many, you ask? Hundreds, Roger imagined. Hardy had stories galore about many of his items. Watches were bought at auctions or wherever, but he acquired several through trading or swapping with individuals during his many years of traveling the nation by railroad. He loved to regale these stories to the boys and they so much enjoyed hearing them.
There were also two small oak tables with lamps centered on top, surrounded by an assortment of glassware, salt and pepper shakers, and some pieces of metal ware collected by Hardy’s late wife. The rest of the front room didn't have much furniture, only a rocker and one wingback padded chair.
Moving in a straight path, the next room was the kitchen, full of primitives. Roger would later learn their distinction in antique collecting vocabulary. This didn’t have much appeal to the boys. Off the kitchen was a room that had been added onto the original construction. It was a room that ran half the width of the house and was 10 feet deep with the east wall made of clear glass bricks, wainscoted half way up to the ceiling. The entire roomed was lined with shelving. This was where Hardy kept his most recent specialized collection, BOTTLES.
Wayne missed the initial trip because Roger pretended to go to school, but stealthily took Harry, the name his sister, Connie, gave the 50 Chevy. With the help of locals adding directions, he drove the back roads on an adventure he would never forget.
Roger approached the 1/4 mile driveway to the old, fading, white two-story farmhouse. He was pretty excited heading down the rutted driveway, with some trepidation of whether he was at the right residence or not. He pulled up to the house that had no fence around it and not much of a yard either. His first impression was that this place had a slew of cats for there were 10 or more multicolored cats in various forms of employment in feline endeavors. At least he saw no dogs that might challenge his walk to knock on the door. This is when he made his first "I spy a treasure," the first of hundreds to come. Looking down, he saw several cats eating food placed in an upturned World War II Nazi Army helmet without a liner.
“Wow! What must this man have in that house?” was Roger's reaction. Plus, he bet Hardy would sell the helmet to him. Roger was soon crestfallen. Nobody came to the knocking of the door. Young boys do not have much patience, especially when their collecting fever is on full alert. He got back into Harry and waited, looking out and viewing all the old horse-pulled farm equipment Hardy had acquired.
Roger was rewarded for waiting. Less than 30 minutes later, the very old man returned. Young people think middle age is old, but they regard someone in their 80s as ancient. However, Roger’s great-grandmother, Mayme Holmes Grisby, had convinced him that a person might be old, but could still have a lively and loving heart. It turned out to be the case with Hardy as Roger came to know him over the next couple of years.
Hardy greeted Roger with a question, "What's your business here?" Roger told him that he was a collector, too, and the lady at the Red Barn said that he might have some edge weapons to sell. Hardy didn't say yes or no, he just invited Roger in.
This part of the story might be a struggle for readers, especially fellow collectors who have been so infected there is no treatment center to help them overcome their illness. Hardy, a retired farmer and one-time railroad worker (to mention two from his jack-of-all-trades resume), had started collecting while in his twenties and had continued for over 60 years. Much of this time was before antiques and collectibles were of considerable value.
Hardy's home was overflowing with a vast array of no apparent theme or design to his taste; he had everything. Roger later learned that Hardy did have special areas of collecting, but it was not evident in Roger's first impression.
A glass fronted china cabinet stuffed with various items of glassware stood in each corner of the front room. Each cabinet also had three drawers on its lower level. On the next trip, Hardy showed Roger and Wayne that the drawers contained one of Hardy's specialized collections: pocket watches and railroad watches. They varied from the everyday inexpensive to many fancy gold and silver ornate watches. Yet, what amazed the boys was that all four cabinets’ three drawers had watches held in special cut out layers. How many, you ask? Hundreds, Roger imagined. Hardy had stories galore about many of his items. Watches were bought at auctions or wherever, but he acquired several through trading or swapping with individuals during his many years of traveling the nation by railroad. He loved to regale these stories to the boys and they so much enjoyed hearing them.
There were also two small oak tables with lamps centered on top, surrounded by an assortment of glassware, salt and pepper shakers, and some pieces of metal ware collected by Hardy’s late wife. The rest of the front room didn't have much furniture, only a rocker and one wingback padded chair.
Moving in a straight path, the next room was the kitchen, full of primitives. Roger would later learn their distinction in antique collecting vocabulary. This didn’t have much appeal to the boys. Off the kitchen was a room that had been added onto the original construction. It was a room that ran half the width of the house and was 10 feet deep with the east wall made of clear glass bricks, wainscoted half way up to the ceiling. The entire roomed was lined with shelving. This was where Hardy kept his most recent specialized collection, BOTTLES.
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