Thrift.

Today in my teenage angst, I mourn. Oh yeah, it's Valentine's day. Happy V-Day! I have this distinct memory of writing Happy V-Day on my valentines for cards. My nine year-old hand-writing was really terrible (and honestly still is) and I guess I just couldn't be bothered with St. Valentine's entire name.

About a month ago my sister wanted to go thrifting for some picture frames. I love walking downtown so I tagged a long. We hit up Salvation Army and then went a couple of blocks up to Then n' Again Thrift Store.

This place is so classic. A little hole in the wall stuffed to the brim with things that mostly nobody needs. We walked around and I noted several times how I felt like a bull in a china shop on the brink of bringing everything to the ground. And then I saw it.

Evita. Not just Evita, the poster from the original Broadway production.  

Note the presence of Patti and Mandy in the billing. Glory!!!

This is the totality of my finds that day. A four dollar tiny-knapsack, Lars and the Real Girl for a buck and Patti. I hung her up next to my bed. She blesses me, as well as Argentina, as I sleep.

Today I found out that the lady, Grace Ovans, who owned Then n' Again passed away in her sleep. She was sixty-eight. When I found Evita, it was buried in the back against a wall behind some skis and videos and records. She was really nice about me wanting to look at it and pulled out her step ladder, slowly crawled up the wall and then decided it was better if I did it. I asked her how she started the store and she told me the story of her happy addiction to auctions and the transformation of trash to treasures.

She along with her husband go to church with my parents. He's a trucker who's really into motorcycling and evangelizes while adorned in leather. I'm so sad. It kind of hurts me that people can die in their sleep for seemingly no reason at all. And as sad as we are we have to wonder what's going to become of the store. She didn't own the building so I suppose it will be cleaned out and rented to someone else. That store has been there longer than I've been alive. That's an for real assumption, but I'm willing to assume further that it's a safe one. I can't imagine walking down High St. and not seeing the odd ball knick knacks in her window. I miss you already, Grace.