I have a new addiction now that I’m moving.  Ebay and Craigslist.  Nothing passes through my hands on its way to the “donate” pile without me booting up the computer to see “what it’d go for” on Ebay or Craigslist.  Now some things it’s smart to do that with – Al’s executive desk is in pretty good shape and I’m hoping to make a little manicure money on that.  My massage table is also up for sale but not at a bargain price.  It’s a custom table and although I don’t want to move it, I also don’t want to give it away.

It’s not just me selling things, though.  I have scored lots of free or very cheap moving boxes – the real thing – and packing paper through craigslist.  Wardrobe boxes, dish packs. Very cool to score that stuff – at anywhere from .80 – $5.00 per box depending on the size, I’m sort of making money hand over fist by not spending it.

However, there are somethings that are just not worth a damn.  I was hoping maybe I could auction off the brick from County Stadium in Milwaukee that Al got after the last game – complete with Certificate of Authenticity.  However, they are only going for about $25.  Not worth my time.  Anyway, it got put into the front patio so it’s staying with the house.

Last night I went through the vinyl records.  I understand that there is a movement to keep vinyl alive, and I respect that movement, but the fact is I’m not moving them again, at least not the whole pile.  It’s difficult though.  To me, they are treasures – records were the first thing I bought when I had my own money.  I don’t have it anymore but “It’s My Party and I’ll Cry if I Want To” by Leslie Gore was my first 45, bought at Ben Franklin 5-10 cent store for probably 50 cents.   I was a hopeless drama queen even then.  Bonus question – can you name the B-side?  No, I didn’t look it up. Hint: the B-side was Judy’s comeuppance.*

Treasures or no, I just can’t drag them to another house.  I have researched the selling price of my vintage 1970’s albums and guess what – pretty much worthless.  There are a few in there that have value but the rest only have value in that I played them over and over in my dorm room at college, and loved to take a field trip to downtown Milwaukee to the record store and torture myself deciding which new hip album to buy – Van Morrison or Loggins and Messina?  Grateful Dead or Edgar Winter?  Dicky Betts or Linda Ronstadt?  I wanted them all, but only had enough money for one or maybe two if I skipped a beer night.

So it was not easy last night as I made two piles – keep or toss.  Some I kept just because I couldn’t believe iTunes would have a replica.  Others I couldn’t get rid of just on sentimentality alone.  We all remember what was going on in our lives when George Harrison released the concert for Bangladesh album.   George taught us how to walk the walk of the hippie rhetoric.  He really was “the best Beatle.”

Then there’s The Chipmunk Songbook and my all time favorite from my childhood – the Kellogg’s Yogi Bear and Huckleberry Hound album.   It remains a favorite –  among the tracks we hear the story of Yogi and Boo Boo hiding an escaped circus elephant from the circus keepers.  Poor keepers can’t get a straight answer from anyone, not Yogi, not BooBoo, nor Mr. Ranger.  Every time they ask if anyone has seen an elephant they get the same reply “What color?  Striped? Checkered? Polka Dot?”  Great stuff.

I will not give away the Benny Goodman famous 1938 Carnegie Hall Jazz Concert double set that belonged to my Dad either, but I did look on Ebay for curiosity and it is worth – close to nothing.  This is because it was reprinted as a CD.

I’m getting out of here with about twenty albums, tossed twice that many in the donate box.  Not bad.  Now to get Al to go through his.  I mentioned this to a co-worker today and she groaned, and then went on to say she had Nancy Sinatra album “These Boots are Made For Walkin” for heaven’s sake.  Somethings just can’t be let go, ya know?  You may not be able to take it with you, but you can take it to the end  just for the fun of it.

*Answer: Judy’s Turn to Cry (“cause Johnny’s come back, Johnny’s come back, come back, come back to me”)