Until Saturday, I'd never been to an estate sale. Mostly because I felt weird about digging through the drawers and closets of a dead person's house, debating whether I want to pay $2 for a dead lady's slip. As it turns out, I was willing to spend the two bucks, and I ended up with a ton of new old stuff (including forty b&w pictures of a collie named Baby).
While we stood in line, Eric's grandma befriended the strangers behind us, and they agreed to help us get our new rocking chair home. We stood in the front yard of the dead woman's house, waiting for our new friends to pull their truck around. An old man approached Eric.
"If this was my house, the first thing I'd do is cut down that apricot tree and that sweet gum tree."
"Oh yeah," said Eric, "why's that?"
"All they're gonna do is drop limbs and sweet gum balls all over the front yard. I raked this yard last week, and I got thirty-eight lawn and leaf bags fulla sweet gum balls."
He went on to tell Eric all manner of stories about trees, their destructive nature, and his attempts to combat them. Ten minutes later, he introduced himself.
"My name is Clyde Davis."
"My name is Eric, and this is my wife, Rebel. We moved down from Ft. Worth last year."
"Well, we're real pleased to have ya'll as neighbors." He tipped his cap to me. "Ma'am."
He turned back to Eric. "I've lived here a long time. I was seven when my daddy died. We was livin' in Dogtown at the time. Them was moonshinin' days." Clyde leaned closer and whispered, "that's how my daddy was killed."
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