OP-ED: Life lessons hidden in a yard sale
By the time September rolls in, Uniontown has its own kind of clock. The cicadas fade, the air gets that first cool edge, high school football lights glow on Friday nights, and the last yard sales of the season pop up like mushrooms after a rainstorm.
I like yard sales. Not because I need another mismatched mug or a stack of 1990s VHS tapes, but because they tell the truth about us. We pretend they’re about bargains. They’re not. They’re about letting go.
Every folding table is a display case of small goodbyes: the toy your kid swore they’d never outgrow, the coat you convinced yourself you’d fit into again, the coffee maker that served more burnt batches than you care to admit. By the time it hits the driveway, you’ve already decided – it’s not staying.
Selling it for a quarter isn’t about the money; it’s about feeling like you sent it off with purpose. And when someone walks away holding it, you get to believe they’ll love it as much as you once did. Maybe they will. Maybe it’ll end up in their attic. Either way, it’s out of your hands.
Sometimes a yard sale feels a little like a confession – you spread out what you’ve been holding onto, and you admit it’s time to move on. The strangers who browse might not know your stories, but you do. That old chair? It rocked your baby to sleep. The casserole dish? It carried potluck dinners to friends who aren’t in your life anymore. Letting go isn’t just about space – it’s about accepting that moments have passed.
Lately, I’ve had to do some letting go myself. Not just of things, but of pieces of life I thought would always be there. The kind of changes that don’t get listed on a price tag, but still cost you something. Life has a way of forcing you to sort through more than boxes – sometimes it’s relationships, routines, or the future you thought you had. And just like a yard sale, you have to decide what’s worth carrying forward and what needs to be set down for good.
And sometimes, sure, you keep a few things. Not because they’re useful, but because they make you happy. Same reason I’d never say no if someone offered me a plate of pierogies on a Friday. Some joys defy logic. They remind us that life isn’t just about efficiency – it’s about holding onto the flavors, smells, and moments that still make us smile.
That’s the trick to both a good yard sale and a good life: know what to keep, know what to let go, and don’t apologize for either. The attic will thank you, and so will your soul.
Matthew Dowling served three terms in the Pennsylvania House of Representatives.