EPISODE 204 TTC LOST ARTICLES AUCTION SALE
alan skeoch
Dec. 2020
Dad did not buy presents. Well, not quite true, one year he bought Eric and me
a Red Rider BB gun and a long-playing portable record player. We got them
unwrapped and later discovered he was able to persuade some store to sell
them if he put a dollar downpayment. The rest of the costs was up to us…actually
up to mom as usual.
That probably sounds terrible to readers who had a more normal family if such
ever really existed. We took it in our stride. You already know that the BB gun
only existed for 1 day and was then smashed against the Manitoba Maple tree
in our backyard to the relief of us all. We sat the records player on the cedar
chest in the only bedroom in our house. We had a nice stack of old 78 rpm records
to feed the machine. These also only lasted a short time. Eric sat on them…smashed
them all to hell. Or maybe I sat on them. Forget who but remember the shards
of broken records.
No one ever bought mom a Christmas present. Never occurred to us. She wrapped
presents for us though which was expected. One year she got upset at this
one way gift giving. “Does no one ever buy a gift for me?” That made Eric and
I suddenly think about reciprocal giving and we tore up to the furniture store
and bought her an electric table lamp with a base full of curves. She was touched.
Put the lamp on the little table beside her bed couch in the living room. Rather garish
but she treasured it. We felt justified in taking her gifts after that. I think it cost
Eric and I about $7….all our spare cash from the Toronto Star paper route which
paid us half a cent per 3 cent paper.
No one really felt bad about this one way gift giving. Even mom was not disturbed except that one time. Our big Christmas presents
for a couple of years was the TTC lost goods auction sale at a run down store on Queen Street West. All year long
the TTC conductors turned in lost articles to the transport officials. Piles of them. Then, sometime around
mid December, the unclaimed articles were dumped into huge cardboard boxes and auctioned off to whoever
attended the auction.
Dad, Eric and I were enthusiastic bidders. Limited funds though. But eventually we were able to get a big box
of things nobody wanted. We kept the box closed until Christmas Eve or near that day. Then dad sat on the
couch that mom slept on…adjusted his glasses…and opened the box. The box was so big that it would fit
a kitchen sink. This was no tiny box holding a pair of socks. This was an immense box of lost articles.
A Treasure trove.
What do you suppose people forget on the streetcar? Take a guess. You are right. There were usually a
few umbrellas…some working, others bent so badly they would not unfurl. The umbrellas were the first
thing pulled from the box. Dad looked up…amused with each treasure. Then there were gloves…lots
of gloves. Most of them female. Some in pairs…others singles. “These are for you Methusalum.” And mom
began to collect a pile of gloves. Next were the scarves. Again most of them were women’s apparel but
a few were suitable for Dad. He wrapped them around his neck.
In this picture, however, Dad had reached the near bottom of the box and he pulled out a pair of
pants. How could anyone lose their pants in the street car? “Someone got off the street with his
bare ass to the wind,” said Dad with his amused expression. Deadpan expression. Not laughing out loud but an expression
that made the rest of us howl.
There were other things…empty purses, wallets, hats…but that pair of pants took the cake that
one year.
A lot of Christmases have gone by now. Lots of presents have been exchanged. Sometimes
the pile of presents make the Christmas tree seem small. Some great presents.
But to my mind this Christmas of the year 2020 could never compare with the Christmas
of 1953 or 1954 when Dad, Eric and I hauled that huge five or ten dollar box of umbrellas
and mismatched socks home to 455 Annette Street on the TTC streetcar and trolley bus.
Mom got most of the stuff…gloves, scarves, purses. But dad got the pants which he never
wore but held up for us to see. We could imagine some poor sucker getting off the
streetcar with his “bare ass to the wind” as dad said in his usual colourful language.
alan skeoch
Dec. 24, 2020