Bye-Bye, Bart


Bart has been fenced with,
Humanely dispensed with;
That’s all I shall say
On the subject today.

eBay Is Amenable to A.D.D.

Eastlake Child's Bed

Eastlake Child's Bed

Individuals with A.D.D. sometimes function best in crisis mode, especially those of us who are attention-deficit-disordered minus the hyperactivity of ADHD. My dear departed mother, who was similarly afflicted, was an antique dealer. In those days, you could pick up priceless antiques for a song at thrift stores. Mom bought a lovely Victorian (Eastlake) three-quarter-size bed for five dollars at Norton’s As-Is Shoppe. (The child’s bed pictured, from, is similar in style.) The folks at Norton’s liked Mom a lot—everybody liked my mom—and she’d fill a basket full of trinkets, and they’d charge her a dollar, and she’d bring them home and spread them out in the living room, and there they would remain, until it was Mom’s day to host the bridge club or something, and then we’d whisk them down to the basement and fling them ruthlessly into disordered heaps (unless there were breakables, such as Flow Blue, in which case we were gentler in our flinging).

Milk Glass. Photo by Manfred Heyde

Milk Glass. Photo by Manfred Heyde

This was before Mom formally opened her antique store. She began having basement sales, which forced her to sort and price and sometimes discard, and then she and a friend opened a little store adjacent to an upholsterer’s, which was handy. But there was still plenty of stuff in Mom’s basement, and, when I had a home of my own, if I were to say, “Mom, I’m looking for a white milk-glass hobnail chimney-style lamp,” Mom would disappear into the basement for a few minutes and then emerge with three or four white milk-glass hobnail chimney-style lamps. She was always good for a set of tea plates or a vacuum-style coffeemaker as well. Mom died in 1974. I still miss her, and not just because her basement was a treasure trove. She hangs around, though… not ghostlike, just a maternal presence… or I’ll glimpse her face in a crowd… just as I sometimes smell my dad’s pipe tobacco, and he died in 1985.


Sold for $2.25!

Sold for $2.25!

In any event, eBay imposes a kind of crisislike structure on the A.D.D. person’s schedule. Service is everything. I have some fifty items in my eBay store, and I have to check at least daily to see if someone has asked a question or, wonder of wonders, has bought something. I must answer the question or ship the item in a timely manner to receive the all-important positive feedback. And I have to arrange my space so that the items can be (a) found, (b) packaged, and (c) shipped efficiently and unbreakably, if applicable.

And so it is that I must now ship the lovely little Ann Taylor Loft jacket that I was sort of hoping no one would buy, and send a complimentary package of Random Cards of Kindness to the person who bought the pillow, which was returned to me by the mailperson because of insufficient postage and which I had to affix additional postage to, mostly in the form of one-cent stamps, which were all I had, and which (pillow, not stamps… well, stamps, too, I guess) will thus arrive tardily. Adieu… and may Whoever Is On Duty bless you and your endeavors.  —Mary

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