Stella M Glasscock Ellen L Gelter Alverda T Guillermin Justin N Beach EHS dedicates ‘Kiser Court’ SBAAC awards First Team football all-stars, winning teams Sizer earns SBAAC American Division Volleyball Player of Year honors for 3rd straight year Broncos to host Blue Jays for OHSAA ‘Jimmy Young’ Foundation Game, Nov. 17 Vern W Kidd Jr Brown County Election Results – 2017 Michael D Hines Raymond W Napier Leslie E Boyle Gary L Barber RULH NHS welcomes new inductees K-9 Units and handlers visit RULH High School EMS members honored for service Road work on Ripley streets to begin Russell K Wolfer SHAC recognizes volleyball all-stars SHAC cross country all-stars take home awards Eastern girls finish runner-up in SHAC golf standings Week 10 football roundup Kathleen J Bright Sister Marjean Clement Veterans Service Office Moves RULH MS students hold first Science Club meeting Bald Eagles spotted 2017 Celebration of Lights being planned Carlos L Beck Georgetown XC teams qualify for regional championship meet Warriors advance to Div. II Regional Meet Lady Rockets reach end to successful volleyball season Week nine football roundup Lady Warriors regional bound Amy J Caudill Bertha Lindsey Bobby S Conley Ripley Council considers insurance changes, will be making repairs on Rankin Hill Road PRC Walk for Life raises $4,600 Mary E Hahn Gary R Cornette Week 8 football roundup Notable soccer season reaches end for G-Men Lady Broncos are SBAAC American Division XC champs SHAC XC title goes to Lady Warriors Arthur Smith Eugene M Jennings Jr Billy R Kilgore Sr Carol D Roberts Thelma L Gray Ripley FFA off to a busy start this year Ripley River Village Christmas adds new events Man found dead in ditch Rev Alvin B Woodruff Jackson L Russell Lady Broncos bring home 11th SBAAC American Division title in 12 years Lady Rockets wrap up regular season Warriors rally for win Broncos make it two in a row Helen L Whalen Veterans saluted at the Brown County Fair Prints available of Eagle Creek Bridge, by local artist Tommy J Stamper Sue Day Broncos move closer to SBAAC American Division title Lady G-Men working hard, showing improvement Sports complex soon to open in Mt. Orab Week 6 football roundup H Ray Warnock Ripley McDonalds robbed overnight Familiar pizzeria in Ripley has new owners Linda Taylor Rene Sizemore-Dahlheimer Eugene Snider Eric Workman Gregory Terry Edith M Moore Eileen Womacks Michael C Jennings Janice K Brunner Cheer squads compete at ‘Little State Fair’ Truck, tractor pulls draw a crowd at Brown County Fair Week 5 football roundup Lady Broncos rise to 11-6 with win over Batavia Broncos buck Clinton-Massie, Goshen James H Boyd Warren A Stanley Jane R Ernst Darrell F Anderson James W Ball Jr June R Paul Robert Kattine Tony W Ratliff Carroll G Boothby Ripley Council addresses roof replacement and paving projects Beasley Farm to remain agricultural forever Janet R Whitt Jacqualine Attinger L Mae Spencer

The forecast calls for rain

We looked ahead to the long range weather forecast, and sighed to see that the auction was going to be held on the only sunny day in the foreseeable future.

We had so many chores that needed doing, all chores that could only be done on a rain-free day when the soaked ground had dried up a bit.

But even though the auction was going to be on the only sunny day in sight, we agreed to go. I knew that I should have weeded the garden. And both the pigeon and chicken coops needed cleaning and fresh straw, but I have had this auction date marked on my calendar for weeks.

I did feel just a bit guilty as we woke up in the wee hours, to drive east through the mountains so we could arrive in the small town in time for me to peruse the lots and decide on what to bid. Yes … guilty, but excited.

Greg smiled at the thought of the long road ahead and a hot cup of coffee as we started off, heading east, across the river, and up into the hills. We arrived four hours later and it was all I could do not to run across the parking lot and into the hall to sign up for my bidder’s number.

As I walked past the parked cars, I noticed that there were license plates from quite a few different states. It was all I could do to wait patiently for Greg to walk in through the doors beside me.

As Greg found a seat in the back of the room, I got my number and went up to the table at the front. No more than 10 older fellows were bent down over neatly laid out plastic baggies, each containing anywhere from one to 50 marbles. Occasionally, one of the men would pick up a bag and turn it over slowly in his hands, peering as he shone a small flashlight across the glass within.

I carefully tucked my bidder’s card into the back pocket of my jeans, number 23, and I, too, bent down to peruse the different lots. It felt good, even lucky, to be number 23, but I reasoned that I was not here to take home marbles, I was here mostly to learn from these learned fellows. I had a strict budget, but I assuredly knew that the greatest thing I could take away from this auction was knowledge.

So, I listened to the men as they passed the lot-numbered bags from one to the other and peered deeply at the contents. Akro Agates, Peltiers, Master Marbles, Champions, Christensens, Alley Agates, and more. I took notes, and not really knowing the values, I decided how high I would bid on those that I thought the prettiest, green, blue, and amber slags, helmets, and a large modern swirl.

There were 84 lots in all, some with several individually valuable marbles, that were broken down into bids for successive choice. Once the auctioneer started calling off the bids, I was surprised to see that number 23 was the last number, and it dawned on me that Greg was not the only supportive spouse in the room.

When the auctioneer held up the fourth lot, eight beautiful slag marbles, dating to the 1930s, he asked for $40. The room was silent. He dropped to 30, and silence still reigned. Then he called for 20, 15, 10, and finally five. I held my hand high from the back of the room.

“Do I hear seven fifty, seven fifty, seven fifty?” as his eyes scanned the room. I could not believe the silence, and then finally he called, “Sold to the lady with the big smile in the back of the room”, and that was all it took. I was off and bidding.

I began to talk with the other collectors as I gathered up my five- and 10-dollar lots, and yes, some of the marbles did sell for well over $100, and I learned. One fellow had only been collecting for 10 years, but most had been in love with the small glass spheres for well over 30 or even 40 years. I felt a wonderful sense of camaraderie as I stuffed my pockets with the little glass orbs. I saw that my fellow collectors had come prepared and had various sizes of small plastic baggies into which they carefully placed their prizes.

On a break, I met a lady who had written a book on collecting marbles back in the 1990s. She showed me photos of her collection, covering a whole wall of her home, and gave me an autographed copy of her book.

I talked to the auctioneer, who was glad to see a new face in the familiar marble collecting crowd. I was amazed that I felt so instantly at home, and whenever I glanced to the back of the room I saw Greg, watching with a smile.

The drive home passed in an instant as I played with my new treasures. I could not wait to get back to the creek, and I imagined that I could have stayed awake all night, sorting through them and adding them to my collection, but by the time we got home it almost dark and we needed to do the animal chores, so I tucked the contents of my pockets into my dresser drawer.

I know that there will be time to play, on perhaps another rainy day. And, yes, the forecast calls for more rain.

Christine Tailer, a Cincinnati transplant, writes on rural living. She “lives off the grid” on a farm south of Georgetown. She may be reached at straightcreekvalleyfarm.com.

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