Venturing Outside “The Box”

June 28, 2013 | Julie Hall

There’s a place we all retreat to that is as comfortable as our favorite pair of old blue jeans. We have a tendency to stay inside our box so we feel we are in a protected territory, comforted and safe from the world out there. It is a place that, while not very adventurous, virtually assures us an existence of simplicity and familiarity; there is nothing wrong with that if it’s what we choose.

This was my year to go outside of my nice, comfy box and I knew it would take much self-talk to get it done. Deep down, I love the idea of adventure, but end up being a weenie … kind of like the canary who dreams of being an eagle. Numerous internal conversations between the many Julies that exist inside me said it was time to do things I had never done before … to go beyond my comfort zone.

I decided it was time for a little adventure. Maybe it’s time to feel alive again. Maybe it’s just a mid-life crisis. Maybe it’s because I had a lovely, but very cautious upbringing and felt the need to break out of the mold just a little bit. So here’s what I did:

I kayaked among Orcas in 1,200 feet of pristine water, admiring ancient forests from the ice age and bald eagles soaring overhead, as my paddles gently cut through the water. Not a sound to be heard except me and nature. Even seals popped up in curiosity. I should have worn a diaper, but I was so awestruck, I didn’t even feel nervous.

Always afraid of heights, I encouraged myself to get on a tiny “bubble” helicopter and see glaciers and mountains from a different point of view. Even though the pilot didn’t look old enough to drive, I really pushed myself to enjoy the adventure and it was exhilarating! Truth be told, I was happy to have my feet on the ground again, but would have denied myself this beauty had I not gone high in the sky. Here are some images of that flight.

Look at the gorgeous blue glacier lake on the white snow from 5,000 feet up. It looks like Tide detergent on a white sheet!

I trekked the top of a glacier, hearing crunches and crackling of ice with every step I took. Some steps looked as if I was walking on water as you could see running water under the clear icy surface. They say some of these pockets are several hundred feet deep and I certainly didn’t want to end up in one of them. But, how many times will I ever get to walk on a glacier? That is what fueled my feet to go further.

To see a gathering of humpback whales working together to feed was an incredible and incomparable experience. They say it is rare to see this, but we saw it several times. I was lucky enough to catch a photo, with my husband holding onto me in the back of a rocky boat and me hanging over the edge to get the photo. I was the only one to get it too, because I was willing to go over the edge, with a little help from hubby. How awesome is this?

We ventured farther into Denali than most. To see this vast, protected land with wild animals and ecosystems that work in sync with each other was really a sight to behold. Thank God for the people who conserve such places. Mt. McKinley (Denali) is breathtaking!

I did not go on the world’s biggest zip line. OK, so I chickened out on that one, but I figured, “Why tempt fate with a dinky metal cable?” No matter how much self-talk I engaged in, the answer was always “NO way!”

I am blessed! Blessed that I was able to have these experiences, blessed with wonderful family and friends, blessed in many aspects. Ultimately, the ability to go outside our comfort zone is a very personal decision. All I kept asking myself during this trip was, “What if I hadn’t done these things?” Look at what I would have missed!

So here I sit in the comfort of my office sharing this with you. I can honestly say I didn’t miss riding the biggest zip line in the world. Now that I can live with!

Julie Hall, The Estate Lady®, is the foremost national expert on personal property in estates, including liquidating, advising, and appraising. http://www.TheEstateLady.com She is also the Director of American Society of Estate Liquidators®, the national educational and resource organization for estate liquidation. http://www.aselonline.com

Voice of an Angel

May 10, 2013 | Julie Hall

Sometimes life surprises you with a pleasant experience you never saw coming. If you’re a deep thinker like me, you might wonder why it happened to you and what possible purpose this experience could have on your life.

I was coming home from an estate clean out. These are fast-paced, energy zapping days that involve selling items which can be sold, packing up the rest of the entire estate for donation, and leaving the home empty for the heirs so the house can be sold — and it all takes place within a few short days. I was very tired and ready to return home to a hot shower.

On the way home in the car, I grumbled to myself having noticed the gas tank was on “E” and had to stop for gas. Upon getting out of my car at the pump, every muscle let me know they were most displeased. It seemed like it took forever to accomplish such a mundane task. There I was, going through the motions of swiping the credit card, unscrewing the gas cap, squeezing the trigger. If anyone could fall asleep standing up, it would be me at that moment. Unaware of much, I just wanted to get back into the car and go home.

Then I heard something that pulled my attention away from the pain. Over the loud music the gas station was blasting above my head, I heard a very faint, melodic sound. I had to strain to hear it at first; it was so soft. High pitched and perfectly in tune, I blocked out the loud music above to hone in on what apparently only I had heard. No one else seemed to notice. If anyone had a video camera on me, they would have thought I was nuts. Moving my body to the left and right, going around in circles to identify where this gorgeous sound was coming from, I abandoned my car and the pumping gas to find out.

Walking a few steps to my left, there he was … a character few would ever really notice. A young man no older than his mid-20s stood pumping gas not far from me. He was definitely from the country, based on his clothing, but his beard was shaped rather gothic and he had earrings. There he was just pumping gas into his car and he was singing to himself. Never would you think this sound could come out of him. It was an unnaturally high voice to be coming from a man, and it was other-worldly. That’s the only way I can describe it. having studied music for 15 years, I had never heard this sound before.

I listened for several minutes, and whatever he was singing (because it was not English), sounded like what I envisioned angels to sound like.

Sometimes I think life, in its infinite wisdom, knows when we are weary and offers us snippets of unexpected grandeur. Was he just a young man with a special gift, or was he sent to instill a moment of joy to this tired lady and anyone else who might be listening?

I’m afraid we’ll never know. Just one of life’s many mysteries!

A Heartfelt Thank You

December 31, 2012 | Julie Hall

They say time heals all wounds. In the last few weeks of losing dad and mourning the loss of both my parents in the last year, I have asked myself how I will get back up and move forward. For me, it is about staying active and busy. A frequent thought visits me; what can I do to help others, and how can I serve them best? I just assume, since we all grieve in different ways, I will eventually be okay with the passage of time, bending God’s ear a lot, and relying on the support of family and close friends.

What caught me by surprise, however, were all the wonderful comments and emails I received from you. I had no idea so many people who I don’t know personally genuinely cared, or that my blogs or writings had somehow touched you or your family. I had no idea that sharing my thoughts made a positive impact.

I am deeply honored that you reached out to comfort me. Little did I know that a good dose of healing took place over the holidays because of your kind comments and heartfelt words.

You have re-instilled my faith in humankind — people are by nature “good” even though all we ever hear about in our media is the bad. Your comments and sincere emails were deeply touching at a time when I needed them most. I am reminded of a line from a classic movie, “The Sound of Music.” Fräulein Maria says, “Reverend Mother always says when the Lord closes a door, somewhere He opens a window.”

Thank you for opening a window for me. Happy New Year!

There is Much to be Grateful For

November 21, 2012 | Julie Hall

I’m thankful for things I never thought about before. It could be the economy that has us more thankful for what we do have, or in my case, losing one beloved parent and in the process of losing the other that makes me see things differently than I used to.

I walk outside for a fresh breath and see a perfect sky and the gorgeous leaves this time of year. How could anything be wrong when you see something that beautiful? I don’t yell at my teen as much as I used to. She supported me during a time of tremendous loss and has spoken words of wisdom when she sees me folded over in tears, due to my father’s illness. How could anything be wrong when you’re surrounded by something so beautiful?

I’m not as impatient as I used to be, and I’m thankful for that too. And even though I have always thought of myself as a kind person, I am even more so now, because the world needs as much light and kindness as possible.

We all have worries, fears, and thoughts we shouldn’t have. It is a sign of the times. I walked to the backyard and was greeted by a family of 9 deer who did not run when I got within 15 feet of them. Instead, the timid deer allowed me to slowly approach, and I crouched down only to observe how graceful they all were. How they all remained together to stay safe, warm, and graze. Their big eyes and ears were always on the alert, but they were inquisitive as well. The mother had an injured leg (not life threatening), and she was slower than the rest, but they never left her behind. They stayed together like family should.

It was a “God” moment. Just me and God and his incredible creatures. In that snippet of time, all my worries and troubles were gone. All was right and my mind was “in the moment.” So that’s what it feels like not to have any worries, I thought to myself. I need to do this more often. And so I shall.

My mom used to say you can see things from any angle you choose; you can be mad or glad, happy or sad. It’s all in how you look at things. I’ll start thinking more like that too.

I’m finally beginning to get the picture. Fifty years into this thing called life, I finally get it. Be appreciative. Tell people how you feel. Fix your wrongs. Treat others well. Do the right thing. It all goes back to everything we learned in kindergarten; only somewhere along the way, life got in the way and we may have forgotten.

Let this be a reminder to us all to be more “in the moment” with an appreciative heart, as we enter this holiday season and a new year.

The Antique Show

November 6, 2012 | Julie Hall

I am known to frequent antique and collectibles shows. Curiosity always gets the best of me and I just have to go and visit with dealers from different markets to get their take on how the market and economy are doing.

Yesterday, I went to a large show in my area. In 2010, it had shrunken with fewer big tents and dealers than usual, and 2011 was no different. This year, it appeared a bit larger, but what the producers of the show had done was allowed flea marketers in with items of lesser quality. So you had very high-end antiques mixed in with yard sale items. Some people enjoyed the varied selection, but most of the dealers did not.

There was a quiet murmur among the dealers of the show, and with my ability to bounce from dealer to dealer, I got to hear most of the “scoop” that was going around. They blamed the producer of the show who allowed the “cheap” goods in. Attendees were buying the cheap goods but not the high-end antiques. Some of the dealers who knew me shared that while they had sold some items. the public in general has become more difficult to deal with.

“They want to negotiate from the get-go, knowing the economic situation. They don’t care what something is worth. If we have $100 on something, they want it for less than half of that. They also behave as if we (dealers) are taking advantage of them, and we’re not … we’re all struggling.”

This was the basis of what I was seeing and hearing. Some dealers who refused to negotiate will be left with a truckload of stuff to bring back home and not much to show for it in their pockets. Others who are willing to negotiate will at least make something. Still there were others that shocked me a bit when I picked up one of their items; it was an immediate “I can do better on the price.” One lady pretty much dragged me into her booth and kept showing me things I had absolutely no interest in, and I thought that was pretty strange behavior … like she was desperate. No one likes to be pushed, but I remained polite and said, “No, thank you.”

As I soaked in the local color and all the buzz around me, a thought occurred to me that probably wouldn’t mean anything to anyone else. If all this stuff is left behind and the piles only get bigger with time, because they are not selling, what will become of all these items and who will purchase them as we continue to age and pass away?

If I were a dealer, I would think the art of negotiation and letting things go for a modest profit would be the key to being more successful in this challenging economy.

An Estate Find Tells the Tale of a Bittersweet Love

October 3, 2012 | Julie Hall

The colors of the WWI era postcard were the first to catch my attention. Postmarked 1918, the picture depicts a soldier in uniform holding the hand of a girl he was leaving behind as he heads off to war. When I flipped the postcard over to read it, their lives suddenly sprung to life.

Her name was Viola and she lived in Virginia. The only writing on the addressee side is her first name, last name, and the city and state she lived in. Your first thought, when looking at the simplicity of the card, was how complicated life is now in the 21st century, compared to a time when postmen knew you and where you lived. But after reading the postcard, perhaps their lives weren’t that simple after all. It leaves a lot to the imagination.

His name was Thomas and he was writing from Camp Meade. Apparently, Thomas was quite taken with Viola.

Dearest Viola, I guess you are somewhat surprised to hear from me. And although I am taking it upon myself to drop you a card, I hope that one day very soon I can hold your beautiful face in my hands. What a sweet and wonderful day it will be to see you again! I thought today that I had to leave for France, But I am still here for a couple of weeks before we go so please answer me. Yours, Thomas

What Thomas was really trying to do was get up the nerve to tell her how he really felt and that he wanted her in his life.

I wonder whatever happened to Thomas and Viola. During this time in 1918, WWI was drawing to a close but the men were still actively fighting. Did Thomas ever go to France, and if so, did he ever return safely to hold Viola’s face? Did he die valiantly while fighting for his country? It’s one of the myriad of mysteries we find in estates, and while it is hard to walk away without a firm answer, we simply fill in the blanks the way we would have wanted the story to end.

Thomas came back; Viola fell head over heels in love with him. They had several children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren; they lived to a ripe old age, completely devoted to one another.

In my mind, that’s the ending to this affair of the heart.

Live a Life That Matters

September 24, 2012 | Julie Hall

(Source unknown)

Ready or not, someday it will all come to an end.

There will be no more sunrises, no minutes, hours or days.

All the things you collected, whether treasures or baubles, will pass on to someone else.

Your wealth, fame, and temporal power will shrivel to irrelevance. It will not matter what you owned or what you owed.

Your grudges, resentments, frustrations and jealousies will disappear. So too, your hopes, dreams, plans, and to-do lists will expire.

The wins and losses that seemed so important will fade away. It won’t matter where you came from, or on what side of the tracks you lived.

It won’t matter if you were beautiful or brilliant, and your gender and skin color will be irrelevant.

So what will matter? How will the value of your days be measured?

What will matter is not what you bought, but what you built.

Not what you got, but what you gave.

What will matter is not your success, but your significance.

It is not what you learned, but what you taught.

What will matter is every act of integrity, compassion, or sacrifice, that empowered, enriched, and encouraged others to emulate your example.

What will matter is not your competence, but your character.

It will not matter how many people you knew, but how many people will feel a lasting loss when you’re gone.

What will matter is not your memories, but the memories that live in those that loved you.

What will matter is how long you will be remembered and for what.

Living a life that matters doesn’t happen by accident. It is a matter of choice.

Love People and Use Things, Not Love Things and Use People

August 6, 2012 | Julie Hall

I found this entry in the old journal my late mother wrote back in the 90’s. It is a small, leather, white book with gold leaves; she wrote some of her favorite quotes in it. As an expert in “things,” I really like this quote because it is directly related to what I see everyday. “Love people and use things, not love things and use people.”

People are so anchored to their things and equate themselves and their success (as well as their legacy) to these “things.” A legacy doesn’t mean leaving the kids with a large house full of collectibles. It means love them and teach them. That is ultimately what we take away with us and what means the most. Don’t misunderstand — leaving behind an heirloom or two is a lovely gesture, but I am referring to people who haven’t quite figured out that you can’t take it with you.

Turn on the TV and you will see that we are bombarded with shows about finding stuff and making money. One about finding hidden treasure in storage units and another who makes a good deal of money off other people’s lack of knowledge. Believe me when I tell you that 99% of people are going to remove from storage anything that has exceptional value, prior to them being locked out and forfeiting to public auction! Believe me when I tell you that those values are NOT accurate and not part of the real world. We’re in a recession! That’s just Hollywood.

We spend a lifetime collecting it, buying it, inheriting it, finding it, and then one day, we perish and leave this “load” for our kids.

How about we stop buying the stuff, sell the collectibles, and leave the cash to the kids, which they can really use and will hopefully truly appreciate? I know I would. This comment, while you may not agree, comes from years of listening to the children complain about this issue and why their parents never sold the things which mean nothing to them personally. The stuff becomes a huge headache to deal with; mom and dad said the items were so valuable and the kids discover in today’s market, the value is very low.

If we don’t get rid of the things, I see those children really struggle with guilt when the parents leave them. They end up filling their homes with the stuff, much to their own children’s and spouse’s chagrin.

These things are an anchor that will only bring you down, or bring down your children and heirs. Get rid of the stuff, save the cash, and love your family! Long after we are gone, our children and grandchildren will remember us by our actions, not our things.

Beware of Snowballing Family Lore

May 7, 2012 | Julie Hall

I would be a rich woman if I had a dollar for every time I heard a family member tell the story of an heirloom in which the story gets bigger and better with every telling. It’s like the old parable, “The fish that got away was THIS big …” and every time the story is told, the fish miraculously gets bigger.

So too is the challenge we professionals have with discussing and valuating family heirlooms. I visit clients in their homes and enjoy each of them and listening to their stories. However, I know what the values really are, regardless of the verbal family stories. The hard part for me, and for the client, is providing proof that the following really took place: “Did you know Abraham Lincoln sat in that chair?” “This belt buckle belonged to Robert E. Lee.” “Our grandmother told us Teddy Roosevelt took a picture with daddy, but we don’t know where that picture went.” We know what these items are worth on a monetary level, but you can’t place a value on sentimentality. Sentimentality is priceless and in the mind of the beholder.

Could some of these family stories actually be true? Perhaps they are, but without provenance, or history of the piece (proof of some kind, like a photo of Abraham Lincoln really sitting in that chair), it leaves a question mark and is difficult to valuate. Without proof, we can only appraise what we see based on its’ characteristics.

I look back into my experiences with all kinds of families and wonder why most people seem to exaggerate about old possessions. Here’s what I came up with:

It’s their version of the truth as they see it.
For attention. (I have something special.)
To accentuate the positive.
To make the mundane more exciting.

Maybe Abraham Lincoln did sit in that chair. Or maybe he sat in one just like it and that’s how the story got convoluted. Someone heard what they wanted to hear, and generations of tongues did the rest.

I don’t want you to be disappointed when you go to sell these items and the prices brought don’t match the stories behind the piece. If your items mean that much to you, hold on to them and do your best to research the history of that piece for generations to come.

What We Find Left Behind

March 12, 2012 | Julie Hall

It’s always an eye-opening experience working in estates after the children have taken what they want and allow us to handle the remainder. You just never know what you will find left behind.

Sometimes, we just find what you would expect, the items that should have been discarded 40 years ago – broken items from the attic, old appliances, clothing that needs to be donated, etc. Other times, we find items that have value and we arrange to have them sold for the family. And on occasion, we find items that leave us scratching our heads, or items that we can never speak of and promise to take that information to our graves.

We see it all: the love, the fights, the estrangements, the addictions, the sorrows, the secrets – all of which are carried through our lifetimes.

It is difficult to put into words when you find war medals of courage and valor left on the floor for disposal, or antique photos of people in the family that have been left in a pile for us to discard. But we understand that every person has a story and we are not privy to their upbringing or lives, and therefore do not understand why they made the decisions they did.

Recently we found letters dating from the Civil War period, of a soldier who wrote home to his sister. He wrote of the horrible conditions, how most of his comrades had died from dysentery, and that there wasn’t enough food to keep the soldiers strong. He spoke of having no warmth through the winter months, but described it in such a way that he was not complaining. It was fascinating to hear of life so long ago from a person who lived during those times, but the family took no interest.

Other things we find are scrapbooks, war letters between mom and dad, family Bibles with genealogy information inside the front cover, diaries, estate jewelry, guns, etc.

I guess it’s true what they say. Beauty really is in the eye of the beholder, and one cannot predict what is in a person’s heart during such difficult times.