Hanging on to less than perfect pieces of history

I have been called a junk seller. I prefer to consider myself someone who helps to keep the past alive.

I specialize in things that are affordable and I pride myself on being able to maintain some semblence of balance between the people I buy from, the people I sell to and myself. I like it when everyone is happy with the outcomes.

Never being one to pass up an opportunity for learning, today I had the pleasure of tagging along with a fine antiques dealer when he went to visit an elderly gentleman to price his collection of military items that he spent a lifetime aquiring.

I have to admit, even with my lack of knowledge of the minutia of the military, the things this man had was stunning. Uniforms, tools, big clunky box phones and other means of communication that were used in the field during various wars... even more incredibly he knew the history and story behind almost every object.

The last room we approached had a double lock on it. When our host unlocked the door, he said that this was his war room and his personal favorite. Walking in, I knew why. I was in the playroom of many a young boy's dreams. (Well at least the young boy's of previous generations)

This man had built individual diorama's for every war that the United States had ever been involved in. I have never seen so many tin, steel, wooden, rubber and plastic soldiers all involved in war related activities in such a realistic display in my life. There were battlefields, medic stations, convoys across the desert, each perfectly capturing a moment in history, all carefully put together by loving hands.

I learned that his wife had sewn all the miniature flags and other details that brought these scenes to life.

As we were leaving I noticed a table with some miscellanious pieces on them. When questioned about it, he said that the items there were less than perfect pieces of history but he couldn't bring himself to throw them away. He handed me this old toy tank which I immediately learned was a World War I French FT-17 Tank and asked me what I thought happened to the gun. I responded that if it had been mine or my brother's when I was a kid, I would have likely found a way to remove the gun like this to give the soldier inside a clearer view of where he was going.

"Sixty years I've been wondering and asking people what happened to my tank and young lady, (Young lady! I'm so easy to please! Yippee!) I think you've just answered this question. Oh I wish I had met you when my sister was alive, so I could tell her I figured it out! She spent years teasing me about keeping that tank!"

My friend the antique dealer has a new client and the little metal tank with wooden wheels, a piece of imperfect history, has a new home where it will be cherished because of the memory of a grand visit with the most gracious host.

I am blessed.