Gail
across the world, right at home, right on time
The annual barn sale.
Every year, our neighbors open up their barn and reveal a trove of vintage pieces, toys, clothing, ThingsYouHaveToDust®, and so on. It’s a dream come true for those of us who love the Picking World, you know that omnipresent hunt for antique treasures, old tools, you name it… the place we recycle our ancestors’ belongings back to good use by us living folk.
“All these things were owned by dead people,” way to reframe it for me, man.
Anyway, the barn sale this year apparently had a long line before they even opened the doors, and my family wasn’t there.
We were busy celebrating a birthday party and would be tied up til just before they closed. A few of the other parents and I, saturated with FOMO, decided we’d try to make it. Some of them wouldn’t be able to go, but after the sugar rush started to subside, we parallel parked and found ourselves amongst the already-picked-through treasures.
Whenever I go to the barn sale, I scout for rarer kitchen tools, ones I might not even use but that look really cute or menacing (kitchen and Mars do have a strong relationship, after all).
Another mother said she looks for the sweaters. “Oh the sweaters!”… i never look at the sweaters. But because she’d mentioned it, this time, I did, and i saw it.
Like, unbelievable, jaw-dropping, wow-I-know-the-woman-who-made-this-vest-by-hand-and-sewed-each-bead-on-herself-in-the-Transkei-South-Africa-What-is-this-doing-here-and-HFS-it’s-only-$25-It’s-Coming-Home-With-Me!
I squealed quietly, my husband squealed quietly, buzzing.
We already have two of Gail’s vests at home. She makes them for the sangomas in the Transkei, or, well, she did before she retired. She spent a long career dressing my South African family up in ceremonial regalia. My husband’s vest has a blue base, my daughter’s, a yellow base, and now, I have this maroon one.
The buzz amplified instantly. We excitedly told anyone we could see that we knew the woman who had made this vest, fellow customers, the sellers, whomever. Everyone got amped, and marveled at how small this world is. Awe descended upon all like layer of fresh snow.
I felt like i’d won some kind of picking lottery. How did I find this genuine article all the way from South Africa here at the barn sale, at the end of the day? How many people had passed that vest over, thinking it gaudy, or perhaps even not woman-made, or who knows what?
The second I saw it, I immediately knew it belonged at home with my sangoma and our family. It was waiting for us, in all its glory. Gail perhaps whispering to potential customers, not you, not you, Jenn and fam are almost here.
So, the point?
You don’t have to be the first in line at the barn sale to find real treasure. Sometimes you live your life, and go when you can, and you still find the heirloom gem that lights you and everyone around you up, and makes people across the world smile because everything is in the right place and all is well.
Thanks, Gail. Thanks, barn sale. Thanks right timing.
See you again in two days, on Fri Dec 12, 2025.
Ahhhhhhhhh 🥹 I love this!