The Three Ghosts of Purchasing Antiques

Ebenezer was sound asleep, or had been, or thought he was. He opened one eye and saw what looked very much like a ghost. “Can’t be,” he said and lay back down. But the noise: groaning and chains clanking. One heck of a dream he thought to himself. 

“Ebenezer, wake up,” the voice repeating itself, getting louder. Ebenezer said up in bed and looked around, both eyes wide open now. 

“Who or what are you?” Ebenezer asked.

“I am the Ghost of Buyer’s Remorse,” the spirit groaned, “There are lessons for you to learn tonight. I am the first of three ghosts that will visit you.” He thrust a trembling finger at Eb.

Ebenezer shook his head.  “I know of Dickens and A Christmas Story. Truth be told, I am scared out of my mind, never having been visited by apparitions before. Why me; what did I do to deserve this?  Oh, how I wish for the brightness of a new day.”

“You are everyman,” the ghost roared, “every collector who has bought, and built a collection. And when the night is finished you will have lessons to teach them all.” The ghost was persuasive, that’s for sure.

“You said you were the Ghost of Buyer’s Remorse,” Ebenezer replied. But I love my collection, the treasured objects within it. They make me smile.”

“Do not fool with me,” the ghost replied. He was becoming upset. “That portrait you purchased last year, how unhappy you are with it. Oh, you told yourself you were tired and that is why you did not look closely enough at it. You talked yourself into buying the piece. You wanted to leave the show with something. But once you got it home (the ghost swept his arm across Ebenezer’s bedroom) it didn’t look the way you envisioned. Then there was the painted Pennsylvania blanket chest you had to own because your good friend Fred has one and you decided you always liked it. Until you owned one like it that is.” The ghost was becoming impatient, his voice rising, scaring Ebenezer even more. “Truth be told, it was better off with Fred. But still you tossed and turned many a night because of your mistakes.”

“But all collectors make such mistakes,” Ebenezer replied.

“Then why does it bother you so?” asked the ghost. “Are you so perfect as to not make them? Need I give you a list of your buyer’s mistakes? Let’s see, there was the fancy fridge, the iridescent polo shirt, the newfangled lightbulbs. At least you like your home, unlike some I have visited who regret that enormous purchase.”

“Am I not allowed to be imperfect in my taste and decision making?” Ebenezer replied. “American antiques have a host of criteria for what makes them good, or better, or best. Am I to master them all? No collector wants to tell himself, ‘I blew it.’ Even Henry Ford, a noted collector of Americana is quoted as saying in the book American Treasure Hunt, ‘… I’m greatly disappointed in having been fooled.’ But it happens.” Ebenezer had said his piece.

“I know it happens,” spat the Ghost of Buyer’s Remorse. “I know the feeling of regret when faced with two or three choices – look at all the weathervanes – choosing one, and later, or not so later, knowing you should have picked another, or none. And I know you work hard for your antique dollars, making the regret even more profound.”

“Then why are you here? “Ebenezer repeated.

“I am here because you did not research the painting sufficiently,” the ghost murmured. “I am here because you blamed others and did not learn from your choices., yours alone. It was not the dealer that pressured you or auction fever” By this time the ghost was roaring loudly. “This is not a case of your auto being recalled for a defect you could not have known of. I am here because you were unprepared and asked too few questions. I am here to give you an ethereal kick in the pants.”

Ebenezer sighed. “If you are going to teach me lessons for the future, what are they?”

“You could have waited, trusted yourself and your eye. Had you done so, the painting and blanket chest you then purchased would have added to your collection as you had hoped.”

“But I felt I was prepared,” Ebenezer said in his own defense. “I liked the blanket chest when I purchased it. I loved it, desired, it, wanted it. It was full of heightened possibilities. Eb swung his arm to encompass the bedroom the way the ghost had.

            “All well and good,” said the ghost. “But you make too many mistakes.”

            “Yes, said Ebenezer, “I could have been better prepared, able to be more selective. I am angry about the ‘opportunity costs’ of the purchases. A painting I truly loved entered the market, and at a lower price, soon after I purchased this one, but alas, I had no funds.”

The ghost smiled. “You are showing a bit of humility and insight. I like that. And the piece of mocha ware you have been seeking for years. If you look at Sotheby’s auction catalog you will see it listed, but now you have no antique dollars left to spend.” 

At this news Eb groaned. “What do you think of the painting?” he asked the ghost.

“I feel the same way about it your collector friends do,” the ghost replied. “It doesn’t quite seem to fit into your collection, nor is it up to your usual standards. Where I come from one might wonder why in the hell you bought it at all?”

Ebenezer had never quite had a night like this one. He attempted to banish the Ghost of Buyer’s Remorse using psychological gyrations. “I know, the painting isn’t perfect or what I hoped for, but it is ‘okay.’”

“Don’t go reducing your dissonance as a way of making me feel better,” the ghost roared again. “And no games about how little effort it took to find it. You and I both know you put in a great deal of effort, but the purchase still went awry Okay isn’t good enough.”

            “But I have options,” Ebenezer whined. “I can hide the painting away or live with it or sell it. I’d lose some money but still replenish my antiques’ account. Better than nothing.”

            “Well, everyman,” the ghost said. His chains were getting heavy, and he looked tired himself. “As a collector you must learn from your mistakes when purchasing antiques. If you do so you will become more astute. And you will sleep better, and I shall leave you alone. But you will be visited by two more ghosts tonight.” And the ghost smiled sardonically and vanished.

Ebenezer sighed. One heck of a dream. It all seemed so realistic. And in his own way he was curious. And he fell back asleep. Only to be awakened moments later by yet another ghost.

“And who are you?” Ebenezer asked.

“I am the Ghost of Slim Pickings,” the specter announced, grimacing.

“Sounds like a country and western singer,” Ebenezer retorted.

“Do you mock me, sir?” asked the ghost, filling the room with his persona, not a pleasant sight at all. Ebenezer stayed silent. It seemed like the proper and judicious thing to do.

“Remember a few months ago when you experienced a ‘drought’? the ghost said. Oh, you kept abreast of the antiques in the marketplace but nothing that interested you appeared. How you gnashed your teeth and suffered so.”

“It was a terrible time,” Ebenezer agreed. “I had not yet purchased the painting or blanket chest. I had dollars galore and nothing to buy with them.”

“And you call yourself a collector,” the ghost smirked. “You should appreciate the rhythm, the ebb and flow of antiques available. But in droughts there are no goods to even lean toward buying. And you couldn’t wait,” the ghost roared again.

“I forgot about that,” Ebenezer whispered. And the more he whispered the louder the ghost’s voice became.

“You forgot! Bah, sir. How could you forget not being able to bid at the auction for the table you wanted so? And the show last month when you rushed toward the piece of silver only to realize you were broke. You forgot? I think not.” 

Ebenezer said nothing. He thought to himself, that is why I bought the painting. I was so frustrated I forgot that all droughts come to an end. And it cost me dearly.

“Yes!” said the ghost. “And now, not to be cruel …”

“But you seem to enjoy being cruel,” Ebenezer interrupted.

“Aye, I do sometimes.” And the ghost smiled. “But how else will you learn your lesson? Droughts typically end in a downpour of desired antiques that collectors covet. You could not suffer the pain of waiting.” And the ghost slowly faded into the ‘ectoplasmic distance.’

“Whew,” said Ebenezer. “I’ll never forget those lessons again.”

“But they are not the worst.” A third ghost had filled the room. His voice booming and reverberating.

“Not the worst?” stammered Ebenezer. 

“Not even close. Remember the show where the antique of your dreams was before you. I do not see it in your collection.,” yet another shade chided. “A few years ago, you thought the Dutch candlesticks were too expensive, only in retrospect changing your mind, and by then it was too late. The worst agony a collector experiences is when he does not buy a piece he could and should have. I am the Ghost of ‘Non-Buyer’s Remorse.”’

Ebenezer pulled the covers over his head to protect himself from the pain. For the ghost was correct. 

“Now Ebenezer,” said the spirit, “in the next 20 seconds I want you to name three antiques you should have bought but did not. The clock is ticking.”

 Ebenezer did not even have to think for a moment. “The yellow Shaker yellow box, the early 19^th century needlepoint, and the wonderful tallcase clock.”

“You blew it,” said the ghost. 

“Yes,” Ebenezer said. “I have rued those decisions for months — no years — and they haunt me to this very evening. I can see them still as plainly as I can see you and they trouble me equally so.” And a few tears trickled down his face. “I loved them so.”

The ghost smiled. “You had the opportunity and did not pull the trigger. You had the fiscal wherewithal.”

“I should have bought them,” Ebenezer whispered. “I failed,” and he whispered even more softly, “and I know I failed.”

“That is why the pain is so acute,” the ghost said.

“I was an idiot to let those pieces go to someone else,” Ebenezer said. “Difficult to rationalize away that self-knowledge, that aggravation at oneself.” The ghost towered over Ebenezer, but he was smiling. His lesson seemed to be seeping in.

“You forgot, didn’t you? Buy something that ‘pops;” look for a piece that is quite good, regardless of the genre. If you love it, buy it!” 

It had been a long night and Ebenezer sighed deeply. “It is not the ones that got away that are so memorable or painful, it is the ones I let get away that trouble me so. Those pieces were perfection, and I could have bathed in perfection’s bliss.”

            “Everyone experiences non-buyer’s remorse,” the shade replied. “It is so common that there even exists a website, ‘The One That Got Away,’ so that sorrowing fashionistas can be reunited with the beloved clothing item they carelessly passed over.” 

“Oh, how I wish such a website existed in the American antique community! I will do better, I promise,” Ebenezer said. And then he heard the faint peal of the morning bell.

            When Ebenezer awoke, he threw open his bedroom window. No prize turkey to buy despite the holiday season. But he felt he was a better collector. Was it all a dream? 

It is probably a given, that I have omitted some ghosts that visit you but did not visit Ebenezer. Those who do not collect may be perplexed as to why Ebenezer put up with the ghosts’ visits. But the scary nights are the price he pays for the pleasures and satisfactions collecting brings him. Ebenezer, like most collectors must endure the irritations buying sometimes brings, hopefully with grace and aplomb, in this case with quite an evening. 

Truth be told, all collectors have heard Ebenezer’s ghosts rattle their chains in the dark hours of the night. And a happy holiday to you all. Sleep well.

Collectors purchase with high spirits and haunting ones.