2/3 of a corner of steel SOLC20 #10

In the last post I wrote about Steely’s Corner, a trash to treasure outlet in the town where we used to live. We were able to sell many things that we no longer wanted to “Miss Brenda,” the owner, and she sold (most of) them in her store. Sometimes I would buy things there, too.

When our son was in college, he rented a house one year with friends.  His bedroom there had a multitude of built-in bookshelves. He became really interested in collecting what he called “what-nots” to fill his shelves. After he talked us out of a few items at home and also spent way too much money at Hobby Lobby on duck hunting decor, I suggested Steely’s Corner. As I recall we made a trip there, or maybe I went there on a scouting trip on my own, but not too much was quite what he considered just right for his taste.

My daughter needed a large buffet type piece for storage, for a good price, and we of course went shopping at Steely’s Corner. When we didn’t find what we were looking for, we checked with Miss Brenda to see if we might have overlooked the perfect piece. “No, I don’t have anything like that here,” she said. “Go over to the Wagon Wheel and check. I think I have a piece like that.” Not realizing she had more than one business, we looked at her with puzzled faces. “That store actually belongs to my sister,” she explained. “I sometimes put my nicer pieces there.” Sure enough we found what my daughter needed at the Wagon Wheel. We had been there before and thought that someone was living upstairs. Knowing now it was Miss Brenda’s sister, we began to see a pattern emerging.

One time my husband and I were wandering through the store and Brenda joined us upstairs. She mentioned something about being so sad to see the neighbor’s house being torn down that very day (you wouldn’t believe the huge old timbers someone was “harvesting” from those house walls), and how she had fond memories of growing up there. We replied, in a shocked tone, “What – you lived in this building?”  “Oh, yes,” she explained, “my parents raised all eight of us brothers and sisters right here. Of course, the wholesale produce grocery that my father had was in the basement. And the big warehouse room in the back was added later. That used to be our back yard.” I simply couldn’t believe my ears. This had been her home, and a home for her family? But now I understood why there were several separate rooms, including a bathroom (only one for ten people?) that held all the merchandise Miss Brenda had for sale. And I began to understand why she was so very comfortable there.

One day I went in and Brenda’s sister Judy was managing the checkout and simultaneously trying to sort through a mountain of papers, small goods, and other miscellania. She confided in me that Brenda just wasn’t up to keeping the store anymore. “She’s not really thinking clearly,” said Judy. I was heartbroken. I did see Brenda upstairs watching TV when I was there, and though she looked tired, I thought she otherwise seemed fine. But I looked at the “Coming Soon – For Sale” sign out front as I left and I thought, “They will never find anyone to buy this place.” I knew that even if it ever got cleaned out, the building itself had a lot of issues.

The third and final chapter comes tomorrow.