David and I went to an estate sale last week. We went on Saturday, which was the second day of the sale, at about 10 am, so it was busy, but not frantic.

For those of you who have never been to an estate sale in Metrowest Boston, (I'm not sure if they differ around the country), an estate sale is held right in the home. Most are held because the owner of the home has passed away or has gone into a nursing home. The family hires a company, often an antiques dealer, to hold the estate sale and try to get rid of EVERYTHING in the house. (Family members go through and take the items they want before the sale is held.)

On the day of the sale, numbers are given out early, sometimes hours before the sale starts. This is because of the professional early-birds who line up, hoping to get first dibs at the treasures inside. They can grab a number at 6 am and go hit a few yard sales before the sale is scheduled to start at 9 am. This way, they don't lose their turn. It also allows the holders of the estate sale to keep order. They allow a few people in at a time so the house isn't overrun when the sale begins. Once it gets to be around 10 am, there is no need for numbers. The early birds are quick and efficient and are eager to on to other estate sales or yard sales.

Note that estate sale etiquette varies widely; some estate holders may not allow you to leave once you've gotten a number. Some will put numbers in a basket, others stand watch and hand the numbers out personally.

Once inside, you are allowed to wander throughout the house. There is usually staff on every floor with whom you negotiate, and who write up sales slips for you. It's a little strange the first few estate sales you attend, because you are free to roam through someone's house, and it feels a bit impolite. But once you are an experienced hand, you find yourself rummaging through the most intimate articles of the owner: shoes, clothing, jewelry, books and even photographs, letters and papers.

For those of you who know that I collect and avidly read Agatha Christie mysteries, you might get an inkling as to the feeling I get poking around in someone's home. Immediately my imagination kicks in, and I begin to get a feeling for what the owners were like. Sometimes it is obvious their professions, their hobbies, and to some extent, their lifestyle. I feel like an anthropologist studying habits of mankind at the turn of the 21st century.

This feeling kicked in at last week's sale when I walked into one of the bedrooms on the second floor of the house. A small white canopy bed sat in the middle of the room, clearly a girl's room. Around the room were toys and Girl Scout paraphernalia, and everything was from the 1960s. It was as if the room had been untouched since 1968.

A brownie camera, American Girl magazines, stuffed animals, games and toys, old pocketbooks and clothes, all from the 1960s. I just knew if I had come on the previous day, there would have been some Nancy Drew books! Having been a child myself in the 1960s, nostalgia was in full force.

David and I walked away with a big box of "junk," mostly toys and parts of toys from the 1960s, including some toy train accessories. We didn't go through the box carefully at the sale, and when we got home, it was so much fun to sort through it. It was a little bit like Christmas. There were quite a few goodies we'll be able to sell online. And one thing that I am keeping (it is sitting on my computer monitor as I write): a Cherry-red tin car towing a camper.

You never know what you are going to find at an estate sale. Sometimes, it might be memories.