CHAPTER 4 - UPSTAIRS
Though many treasures on that first trip captivated Roger's collector imagination, his original goal of wanting to know if Hardy had any edge weapons, particularly swords, was not forgotten. For you see, from the age of 9, Roger had been collecting swords, bayonets, knives, and related weapons. As mentioned in other writings by Roger's, his maternal great-grandmother and grandmother where wealthy. They were also avid collectors of glassware, and Mama Cook collected dolls, too. So, in their forays for their addiction, they picked up items for their grandchild. Instead of money, clothes or toys, Roger received edge weapons for birthdays, Christmas and other gift giving occasions.
Roger's persistence in questioning Hardy was soon to pay off. Hardy escorted Roger up an open stairway accessed in the front room. In relating this to you readers, it might suffice to say, this is an understatement describing Roger's astonishment. Roger's mind was blown away! At the top of the landing was a waist high oak railing with spokes that ran around the staircase and the open hall to three bedrooms and a bathroom. Leaning along the railing, with hardly a gap between each item, were rifles, shot guns, and, yes, much to Roger's delight, swords.
As part of this whole unbelievable day, Roger got to hear more glorious stories describing the collection's histories and how the items were acquired. Though not a gun nut at that point in Roger's life, he still soaked up some of Hardy's passion for those firearms and made himself more of a storyteller, too.
Hardy showed him the contents of the bedrooms and they too had collectible items. The items were more so dedicated to the people who occupied those rooms years ago, except Hardy's room, a den of books with a bed. He liked history and railroad genre. It was not the thing Roger could appreciate.
Roger had seen and heard so much, he was hit by a double dose of collector sensory overload. This house was like visiting a museum, such as the Smithsonian, with items you can never hope to own. Here, Roger had seen a collection built on over sixty years of Hardy's passion and, most of all, his joy of collecting people’s stories and belongings. The boy collector driving the 50 Chevy knew he could never duplicate this collection, for, even then, he knew these items would not be available to the collecting public and the quantity cost would be prohibitive. But, this did not daunt Roger's aim to specialize in edge weapons.
Since it was getting late and Roger needed to get back to cover his truant tracks, he asked if Hardy would sell him a sword or two. Roger had brought near his life savings, hoping to make a major purchase from this old man the lady of the Red Barn had told him and Wayne about. Hardy sat Roger down in the front room and related, in a kind way, that money had no meaning to him now. He said that so many people wrote or came by wanting to see if he would sell some item they had heard he owned or they wanted to see his collection. Roger wasn't discovering Hardy; he was a well known Collector Extraordinaire.
What was amazing was that he let this young boy into his world; that fact, Roger later realized, was a rare privilege. Hardy must have suspected the kindred spirit they shared because, from that day on, they became bosom buddies. Because money no longer meant anything and he had enough to get him by to death; his words not Roger's, Hardy said that what he would do is trade. If Roger, and later, Wayne, brought things from their collections, Hardy would trade from his. However, some items were taboo for trade, like his pocket watches. And yes, readers, not wanting to keep you in suspense until the next and final chapters, Roger did get some real cherished items like swords.
This chapter closes with the first exchange between the boy trader and Hardy, a legendary trader. Since Roger brought no trade goods, he was sad to go home empty handed, but Hardy welcomed him back anytime. As Roger walked down those three wooden steps, he turned to Hardy and said, "You see that cat food bowl helmet? I'll bring something to trade for it on my next trip."
Hardy said, "Pick it up and come here." Roger did as told and climbed up one step. From the open door, Hardy extended his old gnarled hand and said, "All I want for that is to shake your hand." Roger's face brightened up like the rising sun. Then Hardy's eyes moistened and he, too, reflected inner joy by knowing he had made Roger a happy collecting boy on that never to be forgotten day.
Roger's persistence in questioning Hardy was soon to pay off. Hardy escorted Roger up an open stairway accessed in the front room. In relating this to you readers, it might suffice to say, this is an understatement describing Roger's astonishment. Roger's mind was blown away! At the top of the landing was a waist high oak railing with spokes that ran around the staircase and the open hall to three bedrooms and a bathroom. Leaning along the railing, with hardly a gap between each item, were rifles, shot guns, and, yes, much to Roger's delight, swords.
As part of this whole unbelievable day, Roger got to hear more glorious stories describing the collection's histories and how the items were acquired. Though not a gun nut at that point in Roger's life, he still soaked up some of Hardy's passion for those firearms and made himself more of a storyteller, too.
Hardy showed him the contents of the bedrooms and they too had collectible items. The items were more so dedicated to the people who occupied those rooms years ago, except Hardy's room, a den of books with a bed. He liked history and railroad genre. It was not the thing Roger could appreciate.
Roger had seen and heard so much, he was hit by a double dose of collector sensory overload. This house was like visiting a museum, such as the Smithsonian, with items you can never hope to own. Here, Roger had seen a collection built on over sixty years of Hardy's passion and, most of all, his joy of collecting people’s stories and belongings. The boy collector driving the 50 Chevy knew he could never duplicate this collection, for, even then, he knew these items would not be available to the collecting public and the quantity cost would be prohibitive. But, this did not daunt Roger's aim to specialize in edge weapons.
Since it was getting late and Roger needed to get back to cover his truant tracks, he asked if Hardy would sell him a sword or two. Roger had brought near his life savings, hoping to make a major purchase from this old man the lady of the Red Barn had told him and Wayne about. Hardy sat Roger down in the front room and related, in a kind way, that money had no meaning to him now. He said that so many people wrote or came by wanting to see if he would sell some item they had heard he owned or they wanted to see his collection. Roger wasn't discovering Hardy; he was a well known Collector Extraordinaire.
What was amazing was that he let this young boy into his world; that fact, Roger later realized, was a rare privilege. Hardy must have suspected the kindred spirit they shared because, from that day on, they became bosom buddies. Because money no longer meant anything and he had enough to get him by to death; his words not Roger's, Hardy said that what he would do is trade. If Roger, and later, Wayne, brought things from their collections, Hardy would trade from his. However, some items were taboo for trade, like his pocket watches. And yes, readers, not wanting to keep you in suspense until the next and final chapters, Roger did get some real cherished items like swords.
This chapter closes with the first exchange between the boy trader and Hardy, a legendary trader. Since Roger brought no trade goods, he was sad to go home empty handed, but Hardy welcomed him back anytime. As Roger walked down those three wooden steps, he turned to Hardy and said, "You see that cat food bowl helmet? I'll bring something to trade for it on my next trip."
Hardy said, "Pick it up and come here." Roger did as told and climbed up one step. From the open door, Hardy extended his old gnarled hand and said, "All I want for that is to shake your hand." Roger's face brightened up like the rising sun. Then Hardy's eyes moistened and he, too, reflected inner joy by knowing he had made Roger a happy collecting boy on that never to be forgotten day.
posted by raddad at 7:42 PM
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