Hidden Treasures & Consignment Shop Finds

Did you know that cursive writing is becoming a lost art?

It’s true. I even asked my son’s principal about it.

Troubled by this news I sat the boys down to discuss it — to reason with them. With every fiber of my being I shared why they needed to continue writing in cursive.  How they must not be a part of its demise. I did my best to convince them that without their perseverance… cursive would surely die.

I pleaded.

They told me I was being dramatic then gently sat me down in a chair, touched my shoulder and said…

Mom… really, it’s okay. We don’t have to write that much in school anymore. Nearly everything is typed on the computer and assignments are sent to our teachers this way. Everybody does it. Cursive writing takes too long, Mom. We don’t need it anymore.

They don’t need it anymore?

But how will you write your grandma a letter?

We text Grandma. And she texts us back.

.

Can this be true?

Do I understand this correctly?

Scrolling pretty letters into words has become passe? 

Sigh.

Well, on a more chipper note, I took a drive over to my favorite second-hand furniture store. Trips like that put me in the best mood.

This particular store is sort of flea-market antique consignment shop all in one filled with mostly old stuff — things people don’t want or need any longer so they send it there to be sold on their behalf because they’re too busy to fool with it.

It’s that place you would go if you were looking for an old ink well and feather to display in remembrance of the fine art of cursive.

Or to scout for a worn cigar box filled with chewed on No. 2 pencils someone once stored back when writing was cool.

You know the kind of place I mean — a house filled with collections of one man’s junk and another woman’s treasure.

It’s that shop of used stuff where anything and everything written in cursive will probably end up one day on display for onlookers to marvel and admire and tell their children they once learned to write that way.

So while strolling aisles looking for old school papers to rummage through and reminisce over, I saw the most beautiful dresser sitting against a wall in a line-up with other tagged dressers for sale.

All of its drawer fronts were carved in pretty scrollwork and the original pulls and bottom wheels were all there too.

It was that piece I dreamed of finding one day while on my many scavenger hunts. Like those you see in magazines that say you can’t buy them because they are a one-of-a kind found in an antique shop.

My eyes glossed over the dresser’s front, top and sides then I lifted it’s hanging white tag to see the price. A steal in my book and I couldn’t get it in my van fast enough.

After I got it home and inspected it a little closer, I thought it might be made of maple and admired the varying wood tones and carved floral inlays.

The backside was a bit more fragile from age but my husband tacked it for me. And the wood moulding curves and keyholes were duplicated to match one another perfectly.

Some craftsman from way back when had amazing skills.

Then when I pulled out the middle drawer I saw writing scrawled across the center bottom that read…

Mona M. Parks

11 years old  May 27, 1916

And in the drawer beneath it a similar message was left…

Eula N. Parks

May 27, 1916

9 years old

Two sisters perhaps sharing one dresser?

Were the writings from their hands or maybe made by their mother?

Of course I will never know, but I am so glad they left their beautiful handwritten cursive stamps for me to see.

A bit of history I would otherwise never know.