What can You find in an Old Cardboard Box

Ever wondered what goes on behind the scenes of a big city Antique Market? Who has expertise, who doesn't. Is what they sell real? Do they know what they are talking about.
The story I will lead up to is about a great Vintage and Antique Market in down town Toronto. I have been blessed to be a part of this market and its stories for over 10 years. Oh what stories I have to tell and what an education I have received.

I went University to prove I was an Artist. So yes I can draw and sculpt and am very creative with ideas, but I'm not that kind of artist. I get bored easily and the thought of 50 of the same style of paintings in a gallery as a body of great work would never be in my future. I am more of a spur of the moment artist. I see something and notice potential in it and I run with it. I also have a love for organization and display of wonderful things, groupings and collections.

This takes me back to my twenties when the need to remove myself from a marriage with my baby daughter forced me to be creative. We lived in a horrible run down house 10 Nolan St. in St. Thomas Ontario. If you put a marble on the floor at one end of the house it would literally pick up speed as it rolled through the house.
I began to sell items in front of my home on Saturday and Sunday mornings to people passing by.It was junk really but people loved what I collected and how I displayed these items so they sold. This helped me to raise enough money to get into a nice little apartment across from my job at the Bank of Montreal. Yes another horrible job that I will discuss later possibly.

My collecting and displaying never stopped and odd jobs would present them selves over the years. I have painting windows in shops for Christmas, painted large agricultural chemical tanks, window displays, taught Art to students, worked in special ed.,and worked at many very awful sales jobs.

Back to the Bank of Montreal, what a terrible place to work. I was a teller stuck behind a desk for hours standing on my feet. Rarely would you get a break and rarely would you get off work when you where suppose too. I was a terrible teller and hated each day at this job. I lost weight and was so worried as they told me I could lose my child if I lost this job. It was during a time when farms where being put out of business and the bank would literally take everything back that a family had built over a life time. So I knew they where capable of many things and compassion was not one of them.It was hard to look at a draw full of money everyday but not have any in my pocket.

I had put my daughter in a day care down the street from my job and she was happy there. She was very smart and was told by the staff she would get special things when she got home because she was so helpful. I was not getting any support at the time from my X husband and money was used to pay old debt, day care and a car and apartment. The last thing I could do was buy special treats but Melissa understood. I felt like a bad mother some times back then. The only good times where with her but sadly I had to share her every second week end with my X.

The bank was where I met my wonderful husband to whom I am married 26 years this year. This was the reason I had to tell you about the bank, a rotten job but a good place to met a husband.

I have two more children, sons, also very smart. They along with my husband and daughter play a huge part in who I am today and why I made certain choices in my life.

Again always collecting. Always displaying and now garage sales, what a wonderful hobby. My husband and I love garage sales and find some amazing treasures. We have gotten up every Saturday morning for the last 20 some odd years at the crack of dawn to garage sale. In what ever place we have lived from Manitoba through Ontario or visited from Florida to Vancouver we have garage saled. Again always collecting and displaying.

It was one of these such week-ends of garage saling that we discovered the St. Lawerence Antique Market. and this is the story I wish to tell.

Till next time.