Time was, we loved to buy antiques. Not to use, just to collect a few old flat irons or a pretty old dish.

A collection is three or more of anything. What do you collect and what does it say about you? Their intrinsic value was overshadowed by their cost, but we didn’t care, we had to have it, to replace the one grandmother had.

Most antiques are only one generation away. Today we collect 1950’s comic books and toys. Generations used to average 40 years, now barely 20 years. Your great-grandmother’s trunk is not 250 years old. Indians never saw it.

According to various custom laws, real antiques are 100 years old or more. Automobiles 25 years and some people think they are as ancient and priceless as gold. Eighty is the new 60. The word “antique” was first used in 1530; before that nothing was that old, presumably.

At every mountain turn or overlook, we scanned the horizon for the hand-lettered signs for Mystery Hill and Antiques, just ahead. We had to pull over, but some people stayed in the car. Serious collectors searched the shelves of sandwich glass servers, stemware and compotes hoping to add to the accumulation of a lifetime. It would sound good in our estate ad and will, or we could become a dealer and never sell anything, just brag about what we have and you don’t.

Mrs. Lewis, the grand dame of antiques, held court in the old Spencer Theater building, where underneath the stage and seats was the best stuff, gleaned from attics in town and county, and she even had the fence from the fountain at the Square. The sign for Mr. Auten’s in the basement of the Murdoch-Wiley house can still be seen today.

Mrs. Grimes on East Council called her shop “Thistle Dew” with tempting cobalt glass she would not sell. Easy Ed displayed signed Brandon Craig pottery along the roadside on Highway 152. Mrs. Fortner in Landis had dolls and doilies and was the first to hear about flea markets. Lloyd’s of New London hand colored his own “engravements.” The Spencer Ladies Culp, Knowles and Davis set up in their own backyards when their hoarding took over their houses. Mr. Adams had mirrors and picture frames in a crossroads named appropriately Glass.

Not having enough room was never a consideration. Downsizing or scaling down must have been invented by some Yankee dealer just to convince you to sell your stuff to him. They say you spend one-half your life getting stuff and the last half of your life getting rid of it.

Since the days at the old armory, 64 years ago, the Rowan Museum Antique show is a testament to the longevity of collecting beautiful things. Flashing jewelry adorning yourself is understandable, but for dull people bridal patterns of china and silver are almost a lost art. Who knows the difference between sterling, coin and silver plate? Who knows Majolica, Staffordshire or Noritake?  Is it Sevres or Meissen? Where you got it is superfluous. Buying antiques is the ultimate recycle.

It’s not just for little ol’ ladies anymore, either. Some of the biggest prices in Kovel’s price guide lists record prices yearly. Apothecary bottle for $4,780 made in 1863. The Honus Wagner baseball card at $2,105,770 from 1909, or a 1905 James Beckhant duck call for $103,500. Go find a 1905 metal bank for $20,825. Watch out, Bill Green; who in town has an embossed cherry bottle of Cheerwine in their pantry worth thousands? Or a $109,250 1911 U.S. Colt under their pillow.

Ebay, Auction Zip and yard sales are a big business for many closet scavengers. Nazi and Klan memorabilia are banned, which only makes them more rare and desirable. Your chance of finding a real Tiffany lamp are about as good as winning the lottery. But you can’t win if you don’t buy a ticket.

So surround yourself with exquisite object d’ art. You deserve finger bowls, knife rests, hair receivers, salt cellars, tea infusers, ice tea spoons, marrow scoops, egg coddlers, page turners, libation cups and cordials, Rococo (shells and rack) oyster plates, and candelabrum (that’s a pair) of the Aesthetic Movement.

Bring out your gilt English silver ice cream set with Bacchanalian pattern, reticulated serving spoon with bowls engraved with fruit foliate decoration. No more Styrofoam and Solo cups with plastic lids and straws for you. Seek the recherché. Be a Vanderbilt or a member of the last courts of Europe. What do we work for, anyhow? Guess who’s coming to dinner?

But beware, “Do not store up for yourselves treasures on earth where moths and rust doth corrupt and vermin destroy, and where thieves break through and steal …

For where your treasure is, there will your heart also be.”

Clyde is a Salisbury artist.