As you might have noticed by now, some weeks I get an idea from a weekly writing challenge posted by John at The Sound of One Hand Typing. This week he asked about the best thing readers had bought at a thrift store.
Now, of course, exactly what is, or isn’t a thrift store is open for debate I guess. I like looking around the real ones like Goodwill, and little second-hand clothing or book stores. Once in awhile I find something decent – a shirt, a little end table, a used CD by some band I semi-liked in the ’90s for a dollar – but haven’t really lucked into any super finds. I always hope I’ll come across an authentic concert t-shirt from Springsteen in the ’70s or R.E.M. in the ’80s, or an original redline Hot Wheels car from the early-’70s in great shape, but never do. People are wise to discarding such items these days, I think, and if they do, chances are the staff know their value to a collector and buy them themselves before the doors open. The days of finding a toy car or Nolan Ryan rookie baseball card that would fetch $200 online for 50 cents are gone. So although I’ve found some decent items in those stores, nothing every really knocked me out and excited me. However, if we include pawn shops, I have a story.
Pawn shops have a reputation for being dingy and seedy places, and I’m sure many of them are. But in Canada at least there are some that are chain stores, bright and airy and staffed by knowledgeable enough people. When up there, I’d sometimes look to them to get bargains, or else trade in things like point-and-shoot cameras I’d upgraded. Now back in the ’90s, you might recall if you’re of a certain age, computers were pretty expensive. So were their peripherals. So while I shot the budget and bought a ridiculously over-priced tower computer in around 1995 to get me into the game, the printer that came with it didn’t fare nearly as well as the PC itself. Within a year or two I needed to replace it, so I thought that pawn place might be my way of doing so for, well at least less than half a week’s pay.
I found one at a decent price that looked fairly modern and good. It was an Epson. That I remember, because probably entirely unfairly, it gave me a bit of a bad impression of that brand. I’m very sure they make good ones and many people have fine experiences with theirs, but this one was a bust. After buying new ink for it, long story short, it didn’t work at all. Out the price of an expensive inkjet cartridge, I tried to recoup my losses somewhat and at least return the printer itself.
No big surprise, the pawn shop wasn’t pleased to see it come back in through their doors. They declined my suggestion to plug it in and try it for themselves and pointed to a “no refunds” sign on the counter. They did however agree to give me a store credit for the amount. Seems like it might have been around $50.
Well they had probably half a dozen other printers stacked up, but I figured “once bitten, twice shy.” Best to shell out for a brand new one in a box with a warranty. They didn’t have fifty bucks worth of DVDs or CDs I craved on hand, but while looking around, one thing did catch my eye – a mandolin.
Now I love music, but sadly am not very musically inclined. As a teen, I’d acquired a few low-end keyboards and played a few songs, barely passably (some who heard me might have debated my assessment of “passably”) but had given that up years before. I’d never played stringed instruments and was one of the rarest of rare young guys, the one who never aspired to being the lead guitarist in a band. But there was something about this instrument that really jumped at me. Of course, by then R.E.M. had huge success with their song “Losing My Religion”, featuring a mandolin in place of where a guitar might normally have been – and I loved R.E.M. But what was more, this one looked great. It was an attractive, curvy little instrument, seemingly darn near new, shiny and made of multi-toned wood with little chromed tuning keys. It wasn’t the one pictured above, but it looked very nearly the same as it.
Well, “what the hell?” I thought to myself. I like the way that looks. And there’s no point letting this credit go to waste, so I bought it.
Now if this was Hollywood, I would have taken to it, learned to master it, written a few songs, become the most popular guy in my city’s Open Mic crowd and ended up with a record contract and video that in time would get a million views on You Tube. Years later I’d be interviewed by “where are they now ?” entertainment shows who’d want to discuss that glorious mandolin song. This isn’t Hollywood.
Instead, I did buy a book that was supposed to teach me how to play a mandolin. I felt like I was reading Swahili translated from Klingon. I couldn’t figure out one chord, let alone read a bit of the music printed in the book which looked a good deal more complex than the music I used to buy for the piano (or electric keyboards in my hands). That effort lasted maybe an hour and a half over less than a week. However, I did keep strumming it and picking strings on it from time to time, and in time could play a little riff or two of my own. And yes, believe it or not, I pretty much picked up “Losing My Religion” just by ear. I’d listen, try to find the strings that sounded like that, and worked along. It was fun and gave me a tiny bit of pride.
Mostly though, I just had it hanging on my apartment wall, not far from some plak-mounted record covers. A little music wall. It looked good, it was a conversation piece. I liked looking at it.
It wasn’t life-changing, or even that much of a story. But it was a good reminder to once in awhile, do something a bit nutty, something people don’t expect you to. Splurge on something you clearly do not need… but might like to have for a whim. Looking at a beautifully made instrument that I couldn’t master was a lot more uplifting than cursing over a stupid piece of non-functioning computer equipment!
Everydave Life 