Treasures

The scene is autumn, 1991. The Hollow’s Grange Hall was having its annual tag sale to raise funds for the next year’s social events – tables and tables full of treasures for a seven-year-old girl to explore. Grandma was unimpressed with the wares, but part of that had to do with the fact she was cross from trying to wrangle my four-year-old brother out of the car, then into the building, then out from under the tables. My sister Lisa and I were big enough to look on our own, so long as we stuck together. We saw tons of crumbling books, old costume jewelry, dinged pots and pans, and even a kitchen sink. The greatest treasures weren’t readily accessible to those of adult height – boxes full of dirty old junk sat under the tables, just begging to be rooted through. It was in one of those boxes that I found the Great Treasure: a slightly filthy, puce-colored plastic, genuine rotary phone.

“Does it work?” I asked the farmer manning the table, wanting to practice my haggling skills by showing I was not going to just randomly purchase items without inspecting their quality.

“Yep,” the farmer replied. “Hung in our kitchen twenty years, but the missus wanted a push-button phone. Them’s nicer anyway.” He looked at me quizzically. “What d’you want it fer?”

“Something,” I replied, mysteriously. “How much do you want for it?”

“Five dollars.”

“I’ll be right back. Don’t go selling it out from under me, now,” I told him.

I had two dollars and fifty cents in my pocket, so I was going to have to use my charms to secure the treasure’s rightful place in Grandma’s basement.  I was surprised, then, when she said no.

“You do not need that – Lord, it’s filthy!” she declared after I’d pulled her and my monkey-brother over.

“But I do need it,” I insisted. “I need it for-” I did not want to tell her what I actually wanted it for, so I went back to my mysterious “something.”

“Well, I am not paying for that. It’s junk and it’s heavy and you already have a phone to play with.”

Getting desperate, I volunteered, “I could use my own money. I have some in my piggy bank at home that I could give you if you would lend me some money now…”

Grandma had finally had it. “I. AM. NOT. GETTING. YOU. THAT. PHONE.” She had that sort of crazy fury in her eye that meant sore bottoms would be in my future if I didn’t drop my quest, so quietly I resigned my campaign. But I couldn’t help stealing glances back at it.

My grandfather, who had been watching the proceedings from afar, noticed my distress and came over to ponder the object of my desire. “You know, little one,” he said to me, “you have a much nicer phone to play with at home.”

“Yes,” I replied, “but I didn’t want this phone to play with. I need a real one, like you can really call people with.”

He looked puzzled. “We already have a phone you can call people with. Why couldn’t you use it?”

“Because Grandma would get mad at me if I pulled her phone apart.”

Grandpa’s brow furrowed. “Wait. Why do you want this?

I sighed. “I want an old phone that people could talk on, so I can take it apart and see how it works and if I could build one.”

He looked at me quietly for a moment, and a funny little twinkle came to his eye.  Then Grandpa pulled out his wallet as he turned to the farmer. “I’ll give you three dollars for it.”