Musings of a Church Flea Market Volunteer
A summer tradition filled with bargains and nostalgia
I’ve helped out my parish’s June flea market for 15 years now, and we just finished up this year’s this past weekend. I know my place in the scheme of things there. I am the “hey you” guy who helps lift the heavy stuff, moves the furniture, collapses the tables when they are emptied, and helps people unload their donations from their cars, and then load their purchases back into them. My wife and several other ladies of the parish do everything else.
Our church may be uniquely situated for holding such an event. The parish hall, accessed from the backend of the church, is what faces the main road through our little town of Crescent Springs. The hall is large enough that we can fit most of the donated items inside. This allows us to collect items all the week before, organize and price it all, and hold the event for three days, rain or shine.
We always price to move things, and our customers know this. We know our place in the economy. Higher prices are for items that you can afford to have sit for a while on the shelf. We do not have time for that. Looming in the background is always the next event scheduled for the Hall—all the unsold stuff must be out of there by that next Monday!
In addition to low prices, I think a great lure for the flea market is nostalgia. We are often the beneficiaries of spring cleanup time. There are always old items being unloaded from attics and basements that have taken up space long enough. We get holiday decorations and pictures. We get old tools and equipment, including B&D tools from the 1960s. We get 35mm cameras, Super 8 video cameras, DVDs, CDs and LPs, VHSs, and books and more books. We get stereo equipment and boomboxes. We get old toys and kitchen appliances (some new and hardly used too).
No adult bikes this year—those became fashionable again during COVID—but we used to get at least three or four along with a good number of kids bikes (once, we got a couple of Trek bicycles). We get our share of exercise equipment too. This year there was a treadmill, three stationary bikes, and a NordicTrack Ski Machine, but that one may have been the same one donated two years ago—I’m not sure.
Two years ago, we were given access to a widow’s home some weeks before the flea market was to begin. She was moving out of her house and basically wanted us to go through the place and remove anything we saw of value. It was the removal part she needed the most. The little home was literally crammed with stuff. To get into any particular room, one needed to remove items just to move about.
I personally excavated a former basement rec-room that contained a valuable stereo system and many collectable records, including most significantly a “Meet the Beatles” LP from the 1960s. While we were doing all this with her permission, it still felt odd being there as we were going through someone’s private lifetime of things.
The basement contained a large bar and an old juke box, which I’m sure facilitated many a nice party in the 1960s and 1970s. When we saw it, it was wall-to-wall boxes of stuff, old and cobwebbed furniture, peeling paint, and lots of mouse droppings. Her late husband’s work room looked just as he had last left it—with car magazines piled up from the 1980s.
Back at the flea market, one of my favorite things to do is to scan the place for any hidden gems—anything that might have more value to it than first glance. My finest find so far, I think, was the time I went through the teddy bear box and found mixed among the stuffed bears and tigers and penguins, the fluffy robot dog from “Battlestar Galactica,” “Daggit,” a vintage toy from 1978. Only a sci-fi nerd like myself could have picked up on its hidden value. It would have gone for $3.00, but I knew to pull it out for the “special” table, reserved for higher-priced collectable items. Past finds that I cannot take sole credit for included a Commodore 64, with a treasure trove of associated video games.
This year we thought we had something when a new-in-the-box music iPod came in. Yet, when we plugged it in, the battery began to swell out, even threatening to split it open at the seams.
At least in regard to fitting furniture into a vehicle, I remain a big fan of pickup trucks and large SUVs. I did have one overly optimistic customer who tried to fit a long chest into the back of his sedan—it did not go well at all. But most of the time, we were able to fit the furniture into people’s vehicles. Every time someone drove away with a large load, it was a wonderful sense of release. Everything not sold was to go into the St. Vincent’s truck parked at the end of the parking lot. This was a comfort as well, knowing that we had a place to put all the unsold stuff. Other leftover items were to be collected by a local homeless shelter and a mission for the poor in downtown Covington, Kentucky.
Everything else of little or no value went into the dumpster. Throwing things in the dumpster can be oddly fun as well. Hearing glass shatter, things crashing and breaking apart can make you feel a kid again. If I stacked up one on top of other all the old printers and fax machines that I’ve thrown away, it would likely be taller than the Washington Monument.
By the way, if you’re thinking of donating items to your local flea market—good for you. However, I can tell you that the old adage “Beggars can’t be choosers,” is not really appropriate for this exercise. In short, if it’s broken, it won’t sell. Also, I’ve thrown away many a pair of dirty old slippers and perfectly clean fuzzy toilet covers in my time. (Gross!)
And now on to the rest of the summer… (enjoy it!)
