Telling Time in 1918

Turned loose at a flea market there’s good chance you’ll have to lasso me and drag me back to the car to go home. That’s mostly the case, but I did go to one in Daytona last year that had me running for the exit after a quick look around. The big feature there was funnel cake and interior decor for trailer homes. I have driven past a big flea market in nearby Port Orange on a couple of occasions, a Thursday through Sunday gathering with most of the action happening on Saturday and Sunday. Yesterday seemed like a good time to give it a whirl, so I got over there mid-morning hoping to stumble over an old fountain pen or two, maybe a lost and wandering first edition, a bowl, plate or something otherwise on my menu of favorites.

I wasn’t disappointed. No fountain pens, but a couple of good finds in other areas, and surprising low prices. After walking around and talking with a number of the sellers for a good while, I realized that several of them had low price tags on things simply because they didn’t know what they had. At one table I picked up what was to me clearly an ashtray, and the man said I could have it and the piece next to it for $4.00. I wasn’t interested in the flower dish, but the ashtray had my eye. He continued on, admitting that he didn’t know what either of them were. I wasn't going to offer a higher price, but did explain what each item was, an explanation easy for me since both were Japanese. The idea of a dish made for flower arrangement was a new concept, but maybe he took the hint and will add a couple of dollars to the price. My friend K in Tokyo would have walked across hot coals to get that particular dish for $2.00. Meanwhile, I got the beautiful and old ashtray for the same price.

At another booth was an odd plastic doll made in Hong Kong in the 1950s, a Charlie Brown type of character wearing short pants and boxing gloves. Dolls are not my thing, but this one was immediately recognizable as a rare example, one possessing a goofy and wonderful expression. Again, underpriced. I bought it and in walking away spotted on a second table an old silver Westclox Big Ben wind-up alarm clock. This is a hard to find item made between 1918-1935 of nickel plated metal and steel. Neither the man or woman selling the clock knew anything more than that it was a clock. “Does it work?” I asked. The man didn’t think so but was surprised when he wound the clock and heard ticking. I bought it for $6.00.

I left the flea market happy and drove straight to Dairy Queen (a rare treat) and had a delicious but probably unhealthy lunch of a chili cheese dog and a black & white milkshake. The Dairy Queen in my little beach town is always crowded with customers and it might be because they provide a large almost park-like area with tables and umbrellas. A 1950s and 60s radio station plays through speakers hidden in the trees. I ate lunch listening to Gene Vincent sing “Be-Bop-A-Lula.” Remember that one?

Down the road a ways is a farmer’s market called Perrine’s, a place that’s been on my radar for a long time. Still wiping the chili and cheese off my mouth I stopped to have a look. Foolish of me to have waited so long. They have most of what the supermarket offers produce-wise and at better prices. Fresh baked breads and cakes, their own sauces, dressings and seasonings, and this time of year a mountain of pumpkins. Got back to the car with a heavy bag to add to the flea market pile. My return to Perrine’s won’t be so far down the calendar.

With the beautiful autumn-like weather, all in all a great Saturday.