HUNTING FOR A BARGAIN. Local Ron Davis took on one of the greatest tasks of the season: putting on a garage sale. Here's how it went. (Pictured is a sale during this year's East Hill Neighborhood Thrift Sale, by Andrea Paulseth)

Nothing says summer in Eau Claire more than the bloom of dayglow garage sale signs flapping around on practically every street corner. And though it’s hard for me to pass any of these signs without pausing at the sales to check for fishing lures, camera equipment, and hand tools, I had always vowed to never hold a sale myself. However, faced with a steady, insidious accumulation of stuff in my own garage, paired with my failing memory of what “treasures” I had or where exactly I had put them (picture an old guy standing head-cocked, trance-like in his garage), I begrudgingly gave in.

So, with the help of my daughter, the preparation began: Piles were piled, signs were created with trigger words like “huge,” “multi-family” and “guy stuff,” pink and orange price stickers were purchased, an old tackle box was filled with change, and card tables were borrowed along with a collapsible awning for the prospect of rain. (Of course, it did.)

A few times during the two-day sale I was approached by young people asking, “Do you have Venmo?” I replied helplessly, “What’s a Venmo?”

After two weeks, the grand opening arrived. A half hour before our advertised starting time, some of the few men who came to our sale sauntered up, asking if they could look around, searching for the same kind of bargains I would. I was a little flustered when two early birders took me aside and asked in hushed tones, “Any ammo or guns?” All the fishing stuff was sold by 8. Later, a guy seeing a dilapidated Coleman cooking stove asked if I had a red one. The only other man browsing within earshot turned and said, “I’ve got 12.” I guess it’s a thing.

Just for your information, it’s now part of garage sale protocol to introduce your kids or grandkids to the spectacle of American Consumerism by setting up a table hawking lemonade or baked goods. My 4-year-old grandson Lincoln and his 2-year-old sister Lyla sold M&M cookies, and few could resist those cute, hopeful faces. We did have to tape a sign to their table after lunch: “BACK AFTER NAPS.” They made some pretty good money, though they immediately squandered it on a set of fighting robots and a pre-loved Sleeping Beauty doll they found at another sale going on down the street.

The grandkids' table. (Submitted photo)

A few times during the two-day sale I was approached by young people asking “Do you have Venmo?” I replied helplessly, “What’s a Venmo?” My daughter stepped in to help the customer as I tried to ignore the mutual eye rolling that went on between them.

I also learned movies on DVD, no matter how many Oscars they’ve won or stars in their casts, are now strictly bargain box items, selling mostly for a buck. But on the first afternoon, a woman approached my daughter with one in her hand, and asked, “Do you believe in miracles?” Sarah tentatively said, “Um, I guess so…” The woman held up a never-opened Chevy Chase Funny Farm disc, crying “I’ve been searching everywhere for this for THREE YEARS!” There’s no judgement at garage sales; we gave it to her with our blessings, no charge.

On the second and final day (with more rain), we became more “flexible” on prices by the hour, even offering an automatic 50% off. One prospective customer talked me down to $3 for a window fan, but only after demanding I plug it in. Children’s shoes, jackets, and outfits were popular, but two good tents (with some pretty poignant memories) just would not sell. I started to eye other slow movers with sentimental value, thinking maybe I should keep them after all, but my wife crossed her arms and stood firm: Either it sells or goes to Savers or Goodwill.

By closing, I did a little math and figured, counting expenses, prep time, and the two days I spent in a lawn chair trying to look cheerful, I had earned about 18 cents an hour. But hey, it was kind of fun, my garage looked roomier, I met some really nice people, and the possessions I sold were probably headed for good homes, wedged onto some garage shelf to rest comfortably for years until they would again get slapped with a price sticker, carefully arranged on a card table, and sold to the next generation of garage sale-ers.

Ron Davis is the author of Shiny Side Up and Rubber Side Down, available at The Local Store (205 N. Dewey St., Eau Claire), and through most online book sellers.