Today was a memorable treasure hunt, memorable in a string of memorables. And it truly fell into my lap.

Two weeks ago, I wrote about visiting a yard sale where I bought old wicker. I talked to Heather, the girl who held the sale that day, and told her some things that I would be interested in buying if she found them.  My theory...no one knows what you love unless you tell them.

This girl called my cell last week to tell me that she had found many of the things I had asked about. Great news! Trouble was, I was visiting our grand daughter in New York. Bad news! Heather had to be out of the house she was selling before I was due home from New York, but she was motivated to sell. She was willing to haul all of the items she had found to the daycare center where she works and store them until I got home.

This created a tricky situation, because , by agreeing to this plan, I felt a moral obligation to do well by Heather. Only a rotten person would allow this girl to haul her stuff out of her home and then leave it all there. What to do if Heather's treasure turned out to be junk?

I need not have worried. I arrived at the daycare center while Heather was out making a bank deposit. Another employee ushered me into a room full of treasure. So much great stuff that I knew I would buy the lot without looking through it all. I knew a good thing when I saw it.

On the top of one box I spied 4 of my favorite items...1940's painted wooden baby hangers. I dug under those to find a box of old baby shoes, hangers, and clothes. Another box was full of vintage gloves, many still in their cello bags. There was a collection of old Life Magazines, old Fisher Price, a white wool coat, a white wool suit, and a 4 piece matched set of vintage ladies' Samsonite. Also 2 great fez hats from a Masonic lodge and a beautiful old army officer's coat.

Heather returned and we talked; she enjoyed telling me stories of her family. One that touched me the most was when she showed me a pink dotted Swiss baby dress. She told me that it had belonged to a handicapped sister who had died before she was born. Holding this, she told me, I feel like I am touching my sister! We shared stories for awhile, and then hugs before I loaded my car.

I kept digging through the treasure through the afternoon. One Christmas morning after another. My best surprise...after being home for an hour, I dug out a small dirty box which contained a Whiting and Davis metal mesh purse from the 1920's.

Such a great time today. Did I learn anything? If there is a lesson here, it is to listen to people who have family things to sell, to respect their stories, and to let them know that you value them and their experiences.