Sitting on a street corner at the fringe of the main square in Georgetown, TX, the Rough and Ready antique store appears dilap

Sitting on a street corner at the fringe of the main square in Georgetown, Texas, the Rough and Ready antique store appears dilapidated from the outside. The outside of the building is surrounded by the examples of the store's wares that are more resistant to the elements. Old, rusted patio furniture in a variety of faded colors with multiple chips in the paint are the most common item. Settled among these are old, rusted watering cans and gas cans. An occasional lawn ornament and bird feeder is included in the mix, along with a few items that effects of time have concealed their original form and purpose to all but the untrained eye by the. The entire collection is speckled with flowers and plants in pots on the ground and hanging from the awning. It is at the same time both a monument to the decaying and yet strangely colorful and picturesque.

Walking inside proves that you can't judge a book by its cover. Much larger than it appears from outside, the store is initially overwhelming.. The ceiling of the front room stretches to warehouse height. Walking the roughly circular layout of the store is reminiscent of a scene from Alice in Wonderland. Ceilings rise and fall so that some areas are spacious while others feel cramped. Antiques fill almost every space.

Some items are familiar and easy to understand. Wooden furniture from days past is everywhere. Tabletops and shelves are filled with dishes, cups, glassware, delicate porcelain statuettes and ornaments. Others contain sets of old books with simple, monochrome covers, some of which appear so old that they seem as though they would crumble into dust in your hand if you were to try to pick them up.

Elsewhere there are cameras so old that it is difficult to imagine ever functioned. Here and there are the colorful packages and stylized letters of old consumer good containers like Durkee's curry powder and Blend No. 2 tobacco. The walls are lined with decorative mirrors; pictures of old ladies, old men, and Jesus; and an occasional old copy of The Last Supper. The only lighting (aside from that provided by the windows that are not blocked by a chest of drawers of wall hanging) comes from what seem like hundreds of antique lamps, all scattered among the items.

It is a seemingly endless supply of old junk, a massive collection of hand-me-downs and garage sale finds and for many people it is only that. But for some, it is a treasure trove.

On a Sunday, beginning very early in the day and continuing until the stores close, these people flock to Rough and Ready and other antique shops like it in search of the perfect piece of Americana.

Some are only decorators. They're on the lookout for a certain table or chair for their new living room, or perhaps some random article that will look good hanging from their wall. But the true fanatics are the collectors. They have very specific tastes in antiques and are looking for more items to match their desires and bolster their collections. One man is looking for oak furniture from the eighteenth century. A woman nearby is trying to find shelf clocks made by Ingraham. Another woman is looking for glassware made of Depression glass, cheap glass made only during the Great Depression.

They come in all shapes and sizes: men and women, young and old, married and single, black and white (and any color in between). When they need help locating something or when they just want to talk antiques, they talk to Cindy.

Cindy mans the counter at Rough and Ready on Sundays. When she is working at the store, she is at home. “I don't think of it as, `oh man, I have to go to work,' I love coming here.”

Like many of her customers, Cindy is also a collector. She loves glassware of all types, as well as anything with roses or birds on it. She also buys fancy hand and basic wall mirrors and old quirky kitchen utensils. One of the high roofed areas of the store near the back contains pieces of her collection that she is selling so that she can work at the store and so that she can finance further antique purchases.

On Saturdays and Sundays that she has off, Cindy is just like many of the collectors that are in her store today. She can be found searching other stores for some perfect piece for her collection, conversing with others like her, and wheeling and dealing with shopkeepers. “I'm a hopeless addict,” she laughingly admits.

Sitting behind the counter at Rough and Ready, Cindy looks perfectly at home. She is a short woman, forty-nine years old and going strong. She has been collecting antiques for twenty years and shows no sign of tiring or getting bored. “Can you come down on the price of this lamp?” calls a customer from across the store.

She slides a small pair of glasses up her nose to consult a three-ringed binder on the counter in front of her. “I have to check, but normally I can come down ten percent,” she answers as she flips a page or two before she raises her head again and concludes, “Yeah, it's ten percent.”

It's a common question among antique dealers and collectors and an equally common answer. This exchange has taken place several times before the store is open for more than an hour. Cindy is used to it and after the brief change of words she returns her attention to the two women on the other side of the counter.

“…It's a great little spot, we just love it,” says one of the woman who never entirely stopped talking while Cindy dealt with the customer.

“Wow,” says Cindy, “That sounds great. My friend and I will have to check that out next week. Do they have Redwing pottery?”

“Oh yes, definitely,” aggress the second woman, “You know, we have an online newsletter that we send out once a week. It tells you what sort of things we've been finding and what the dealers and stores in the area are offering.”

“You know,” says Cindy, “Let me give you the addresses of the other dealers that work here. They'll want to know about this too.”

Exchanges like this are also common. Antique collectors, while fanatical, are extremely friendly, especially to other collectors. They love to share stories of their finds and to help each other find that certain piece that they need for their collection. It's a shared bond. They know how it feels to find that coveted item and if they can help someone else get that feeling then all the better. “I love to talk about what antiques I've found,” says the first woman, “it's a nice feeling. Plus,” she laughs after a moment of thought, “you may help someone who knows where to find that thing that you're after.”

Cindy was born into a military family. For most of her childhood she and her family followed her father to whatever base he was assigned to whenever he was assigned to it. With her surroundings constantly changing, it was difficult to feel like she had a home.

But there was one place that never changed. A place that was always familiar. A place where she felt at home: her grandmother's house.

The family would often take vacations to see her grandmother. When Cindy's father couldn't pull himself away from life in the Army, her mother would take them. Cindy always looked forward to these trips.

During their visits, the family would play games in the yard, help their grandmother knit and sew, help feed her two enormous Labradors, bake cookies, and just sit and pass the hours in her big, cozy house. Cindy loved these times.

When she was left alone with her grandmother from time to time, the old woman would sometimes fall asleep. When this happened, instead of disturbing her, Cindy would look around the old house and examine the seeming multitude of things that her grandmother owned.

Furniture, mirrors, fancy plates lining a hutch, old woolen blankets with fancy patterns, paintings, statuettes of animals and angels, all these and more decorated the old house. Years later, Cindy would come to associate such old items from the turn of the century with her grandmother and the fond memories that she had of the times she spent with her.

This story is not an uncommon explanation for collector's desire to surround themselves with old things. “It's deep seat,” says one customer, “If you were nurtured and comfortable in a place with old things, you want to return to it.”

“When you're out hunting for antiques, you look for things that are familiar to you,” agrees Cindy, “It brings back the good memories.”

It is a Monday after a long weekend of antique shopping and working the counter at Rough and Ready. Cindy is hard at work now at her full-time job as a legal clerk at a law office in Round Rock, Texas where she lives.

There is little of the antique collector showing in Cindy now. She has exchanged her jeans and plain-colored shirt for a navy blue business suit. Her hair, once hanging unkempt from her head, is now nicely arranged. Her jolly collector air has been left behind at home, changed out for a professional legal one.

Sitting at a desk near hers is Cindy's best friend Rebecca. Rebecca is also an avid collector and the two make a good pair in and out of the office. The two of them manage incoming phone calls and files that need to be updated with precision and speed. If not for the occasional discussion of last weekend's finds and planning for next weekend's shopping that they engage in on breaks and when there is a lull in the work, one would never imagine them to be such avid collectors.

After work the two women work out together and then go to Cindy's house to eat dinner. If there are no other errands to run they spend the rest of the night reading or watching television. They, of course, never miss the Antiques Roadshow on PBS. If they have the necessary supplies they sometimes work to restore certain pieces of their collections that are showing signs of their age.

They are happy women. There is an inescapable feeling that they love their lives. Through their mutual interests they have bonded in a way that seems unbreakable.

“This looks like the place, turn here,” says Rebecca to Cindy as they drive along a back road that they have reached by following Interstate 35 south from Round Rock for about three hours.

Along the way they have stopped at five different antique shops, many not unlike Rough and Ready. The online newsletter that Cindy added her name to last Sunday has informed them of several stores that they have not yet explored and they have opted to spend this Saturday on an antique hunting road trip.

Not every store they stop at was planned on the itinerary or mentioned in the newsletter. The purpose of a trip like this is to discover new places to find these old collectibles. For people like Rebecca and Cindy, it is an adventure, a treasure hunt. They love road trips like this.

By the time they leave the store each woman has found several items that they deem worth purchasing. Rebecca has found an old sewing machine, which she has recently begun to collect. This is her fifth. Cindy has a stack of plates and a small painting of a yellow rose. Each woman is happy with these finds.

Their next stop is a large antiques bazaar that the two women from Rough and Ready spoke of the previous Sunday. It is the primary reason that Cindy and Rebecca decided to go on a road trip this weekend and as they arrive both of them seem quite happy to have taken the time.

Inside the warehouse-like structure are rows and rows of antique vendors. It looks like Rough and Ready on a massive scale. Collectors are everywhere. At one stand an older man cheerfully discusses the quality of present day furniture compared with that of the nineteenth century. At another, two women fight over who will take home a prized porcelain vase. At another, a husband argues with a clerk about the validity of his credit cards, three of which have now been declined, while his wife patiently fetches a forth from her purse.

The general atmosphere is upbeat, but far from relaxed. Many shoppers are like those found in Rough and Ready. They are patient and friendly, taking time to stop and converse with vendors and each other about their mutual love. But there are some who are die-hard collectors and fear that a slow pace may cause them to lose that prized piece that they seek to the guy in front of them.

Cindy recognizes the two women from the store last week and introduces them to Rebecca. They pause and discuss their finds and agree that this place has almost everything. It is a pleasant conversation until another woman notices one of them carrying a box of small glass figurines. “Where did you get those?” she interrupts.

The four of them seem used to this kind of thing. “It was at a stand a few rows down, but I don't think they had any left. I just love these.”

The invading woman is unhappy with this and an argument ensues. Eventually she is sent on her way. “I'm sorry we didn't warn you about that sort of thing. It happens around here sometimes,” apologizes one of the two women.

The next day Cindy is back behind the counter at Rough and Ready. Compared to the bazaar, the shop seems much less cluttered and far more relaxed.

“Would you be willing to come down on the price of this?” asks a young woman, holding up an ornate hand mirror. “I have to check, but normally I can come down ten percent,” she answers as she flips a page or two before she raises her head again and concludes, “Yeah, it's ten percent.”

The woman is still smiling as she leaves. “Some one loved that design on that mirror long ago,” she says, “now that woman there loves it. People think recycling is this novel thing to do, something from the last twenty years. No, recycling's been going on a while.”

On a nearby shelf, a polished slice of a tree trunk sits upright. The rings of the tree are clearly visible, showing its age, yet it is preserved under a coat of lacquer, remaining pristine over time. Into the wood is carved the words: “Happiness is like potato salad, share it with others and you'll have a picnic.”

I was extremely fortunate in my choice of topic with this assignment. Antique collectors are, by and large, extremely talkative people. They will share their life story with you, and then some, at the tip of a hat. This gave me a plethora of information to work with, but it also gave me a harder time distinguishing between a relatively meaningless story of antique hunting and something that I could actually use for the article. In the end, all kinds of interesting tidbits ended up on the cutting room floor.

When I first entered the store, I kept to myself. I walked slowly around the shop, carefully noting all of the different kinds of merchandise. I kept my ears perked for useful lines that other shoppers would drop as I walked by. In the end, it was this careful attention to detail that offered me the main idea for the article: the slice of wood with the cheesy potato salad line. It was a small detail that I might have missed if I hadn't been looking so closely and it allowed me to frame the article in a way that showed the happiness that the many antique collectors feel when they find that perfect piece they've been looking for.

“Measuring Returns on Investments in Collectibles.” Journal of Economic Perspectives, Volume 13, Number 4. Fall 1999 pp 193-212