One man's trash is another man's treasure

A couple weeks ago, The World’s Longest Yard Sale stretched right through Chattanooga. Its Web site boasts that the concept of the event is to “pull people off the interstates and back into the heartland of rural, scenic America.”

The Alabama-to-Ohio event, created by tourism officials in Tennessee, lasted from 8:00 a.m. until vendors just couldn’t take it any longer. I really wanted to go check this out, but alas – it fell on the same week all my bills were due. So I took the responsible route and stayed home.

But all the fuss about this yard sale made my wheels start spinning. In my college years, Saturday morning yard sales were one of the few things that were guaranteed. My sister, Beth, our friend, Javan, and I would wake up shortly after dawn and hit up the wealthiest neighborhoods in town.

According to Javan, these neighborhoods would have better things for sale. And he was right.

Never before had the adage “one man’s trash is another man’s treasure” been so accurate. We found everything from furniture to vintage wall hangings – and our houses were better for it. We sometimes resented Javan for dragging us out of bed so early in the morning, but we always thanked him by the end of the excursion, since we had so many new treasures to show for it.

Johnson City’s biggest yard sale occurred every year, the same weekend as the Bristol NASCAR race. Near East Tennessee State (my alma mater), there is a neighborhood in which each street is named after a tree.

Every year, the Tree Streets have a humongous yard sale that attracts upwards of 30,000 people – from other neighborhoods, surrounding cities and the race.

Even for seasoned veterans, the Tree Streets yard sale is like an Olympic event. The best deals come early – sometimes before the sun rises – and the key to success is to get there before the rest of the bargain seekers.

Over the years, Beth and I furnished two houses from the Tree Streets yard sale alone. We purchased a blue velvet sofa, a vanity, end tables, coffee tables and small kitchen appliances. We bought baskets and books and anything else you might imagine.

The Tree Streets encompass nice, expensive, historic houses. So, as Javan’s theory states, their trash was considerably tasteful.

A lot has changed since those college yard sale days. Javan has since passed away and I moved to Chattanooga. But the Tree Streets Yard Sale continues on.

My dad now lives on Maple Street. He sets up every year, selling merchandise from the video store he owns, along with a hodgepodge of other things he’s picked up here and there.

Every year, he recruits the members of our family to work the sale with him, usually turning quite a profit.

This year was no different. Dad instructed me to arrive at his house around 6:00 a.m. Being the responsible adult I am, I decided to stop in Greeneville the night before and have an innocent night out with friends. We ate, drank and karaoked until the wee hours of the morning.

Before I knew it, we were eating breakfast at Tipton's (home of the world's best breakfast special) at 4:30 in the morning.

I got in my car at 5:00. With exactly zero hours sleep, a slight hangover and a full belly, I drove to Johnson City to begin my Saturday. I got to dad's almost right on time.

Then, in the early morning haze, we set up tables and tarps and made cardboard price tags and everyone located their “station.” As far as family goes, we had a pretty good turnout. My grandmother was in charge of the money. Dad set up halfway between his movies and collectibles. One sister worked the store for Dad and my brother floated around to help us all out.

I was set up with a half-acre of Beth’s clothes. (Perhaps that’s a little exaggerated, but not much.)



People were out perusing by 8:00. By noon, the sun was beaming and my fifth or sixth wind had completely disappeared.

The turnout was a fraction of what it usually is. This may be due to the economy or the fact that the sale was held the weekend before the Bristol race. Either way I was slightly thankful that I could sit around and do nothing. My dehydration and lack of sleep was throwing more than a few kinks into my sales pitch.

Despite my condition, we stayed fairly busy. Dad’s house has become known as “the one that always has the cheap movies,” and apparently, that’s a deal too good to pass up. We played music from the back of a van – everything from Dion’s “Runaround Sue” to Lynyrd Skynyrd’s “Gimme Three Steps.”

It was a pretty good day.

Dad also put me in charge of an assortment of Stetson cowboy hats and an “everything’s a dollar” bin. Those were two really big hot spots.

I sold the majority of Beth’s clothes and dropped the rest off at the Salvation Army after the sale. I got to leave around 2:00 and take a nap before spending the rest of the night bartending one of the slowest nights in Halo history. (That's an exaggeration too, but it sure felt like it... I'll tell you that much.)

Today is Tuesday and I've still not fully recovered from my sleepless weekend. I'll probably be paying for my escapades for at least a week or so... but it was worth it.

As always, it was great to spend some much needed time with my friends and family. And overall, the Tree Streets Yard Sale was a huge success. We ended up selling quite a bit of merchandise, despite the low turnout, and I’d been just busy enough to not walk around and spend all our profit.

Times like this, I reminisce about those college days when Beth, Javan and I would wake up before dawn and begin our hunts for hidden treasure. I’m glad I have those memories to hold onto, and the Tree Streets Yard Sale to come home to year after year.