The Battle of the Band

It was twenty hours ago today.

My mother and I had two choices of where to begin our yard sale day: the far end of town for a sole sale? or the big city with multiple prospects?

I suggested the later and said we could go across town at the end of the morning, if we still had the desire.

It was a bad decision.

Don’t get me wrong. We had a great time and accumulated our deals all morning long. We even agreed to go to the last individual location.

It was wonderful to be there. It was a thrill to see all the albums. I wanted to take some home.

When I asked how much, the owner stated very matter-of-factly, “Two for a dollar.”

“Super! Did you sell many today?”

“Just a few to the first gentleman that asked if I had any vinyl.”

“Really? Which ones did he buy?”

Again, she was very matter-of-fact. “I think one was Sargent Pepper. He bought the few Beatles albums I had.”

My heart was lonely. I didn’t have a vinyl that was guaranteed to leave a smile.

The first dealer may have been smiling but I wasn’t. I had to accept it. I had to sit back and watch the evening go…

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