I can feel the pain
I hold a secret spot in my heart for the people that appear on the various programs dealing with the bric-a-brac from their homes. Particularly, Antiques Roadshow, carried by both the CBC and PBS, in various national editions. If ever the common man had a niche, it is here.
This is not the stuff of your local Walmart. When the host looks at a “piece” and then quotes a “value at auction”, the difference is clear. These were objects that were designed to last. The Frigidaire of the salon chair, if you wish.
Once in a while, the human side slips through. A case in point: the man with the wonderful, large telescope. Finished in brass and mahogany, he would have needed to call on friends (with a small truck) to get the thing from home to studio. Questions about the origin went nowhere; he had never found a date or other marking. The host then removed the front dust cover, looked down the barrel and gave a deep “Oh my!”
Instead of the requisite mirror, nothing. The owner then revealed the detail that makes this into a story. He had looked inside, recently, and decided that it might be a good idea to clean the mirror before showing his treasure to the world. He had unscrewed the mirror assembly from the lower limb, and “almost in slow motion”, dropped the mirror onto a ceramic tile floor. The mirror dissolved “into smithereens”.
I can feel the pain.
And that’s why this show endures. Real people, doing real people things. No matter how much it hurts.