Art had a partner when he started his secondhand shop. His passion was old toys. He collected his own and along the way, the business grew into anything old and interesting. He had a ponytail and a long finger nail on his pinkie that he would point with. The partnership split but as friends sometimes do, they continue on as friends. This isn’t the kind of store I usually frequent. To me, shopping is something you get done as quick as you can. But for once, I was intrigued. Amy and I took our time at the back of the store where we found a display of old cameras. A Kodak Holiday Brownie, a Keystone Pathfinder movie camera…the list goes on. We talked. Art told us his story. We discussed cameras, new and old. How in the old days, they were made simply, uncomplicated and therefore, we had a good chance the camera still worked. He pulled more out of his back room. He knew where each one had come from, a friend, a collector or from his own travels in neighborhood garage sales.
An hour later, I had bought the Kodak Brownie and taken pictures of some of his collections. He gave me hope. Hope that if you have a passion, if you love what you do, you can make enough to live a fulfilled life. I couldn’t help thinking that maybe we aren’t supposed to grow up, not fully. There should always be a small part of us that has a sense of wonder and the need to play. As we talked about cameras, I played with metal cars, driving them back and forth along the glass display case. Remembering when I used to do the same thing with my own Match Box cars, when my son did the same as I’m sure his kids will. It felt good to learn something, to hear a story, to drive a pink metal car on the top of an old radio. Thank you Art, for taking me back to my childhood and for time well spent.[no_social_share_list]