Saturday Morning
A group of Amish girls pardon themselves as they move ahead of me, stooping down to their parents who sit on plastic, woven lawn chairs underneath the tent. I stand just outside the canopy begging warmth from the early morning Autumn sun. The girls are given a few dollar bills and they pass me again as they run toward the food cart that the Ephrata Fire Company has set up in the driveway of the 200 year old home. The auctioneer is holding up an old, aluminum trashcan, pale pink with ballerinas dancing in an endless circle around the center. Minimal chipping, paint in good condition. Late 1950's. "Do I have ten", he starts in rapid fire voice, "five, five dollars for this vintage can. And not just any can. This can is full of clothespins. Do I hear five? Three. Two. Two dollars. Just the clothespins would cost you three times that price. One dollar!" I shoot my hand up at the same time as the Amish woman in the front row. The auctioneer looks at me. "Two dol...