In what feels like a time of long ago I used to arise early in the morning to drive across town for a meet up with my friend, Cappy. We’d share a quick cup of coffee or tea and then hit the road in search of treasures in thrift stores. Cappy was quite professional in her knowledge of the best places to find bargains. She had done much study of antiques, quality brands and methods for determining the true worth of objects languishing almost forgotten in bins. Her tools included a magnifying glass for reading small print. She had reference books in the back of her car. She kept blankets in her trunk for padding delicate items. She knew the value of things that might have been overlooked by the average shopper. She also kept track of days when things went on sale to make room for new inventory. She was a serious thrifter on a mission to decorate her home tastefully, find unusual gifts for friends, and keep her closet filled with couture clothing. 

I never knew where we would end up shopping. It was always a grand adventure that took us to the outskirts of River Oaks, the most exclusive neighborhood in Houston, or along Harrisburg Blvd. where we walked around homeless people languishing on the sidewalk. Once inside it always took a while to focus beyond the seeming piles of junk. I learned from Cappy how to concentrate like an archeologist at a dg so that I would be able to see a treasure hiding in plain view among a mountain of used items hardly worthy of notice. Nothing was too daunting for Cappy as she moved things around until she uncovered a classic high end purse hiding underneath plastic ones that were worn and torn. A quick look at the lining inside told her that she had indeed found something remarkable. So it was as we spent hours examining every aisle with the observations and patience of miners panning for gold. 

As we performed the deep examination of every inch of the store we would talk and laugh and feel as though the exercise of friendship alone was worth the trip even if we came up empty handed. There would be other places to visit and more time to search. It was in our friendship that we found our greatest joy. The objects that we lugged out to her car were lagniappe, the gravy on our time together. 

Cappy always insisted that we sanitize our hands after digging through the dust of orphaned dishes, clothing, books and furniture. She seemed able to gauge when our enthusiasm was lagging and it was time to get some lunch. She always had coupons for deals on food that determined where we would eat. Even that was part of the fun. We might enjoy two for one burgers or plates of hummus depending on what modes of saving were tucked away in her purse. 

I can’t even begin to describe the joy that I felt on those excursions when we would spend twelve hour days searching for things without any real plan. I remember one time when I purchased a very nice oversized shirt that I thought would be fun to wear with leggings. It was in almost brand new condition and best of all it was soft and comfortable. I think I paid two or three dollars for what had no doubt cost more than fifty dollars when it was brand new. I was so happy with my purchase that I took it out of the bag to inspect it one more time as soon as we got back into the car. Suddenly I noticed a bulge in one of the side pockets. When I reached inside I found a pair of lovely earrings that the previous owner might have slipped off one day and placed inside the lining of the pocket. I wondered if she had thought that her lovely earrings were lost because they had snuggled so deeply near the seam that they were hardly noticeable. The earrings were even nicer than the shirt but I felt guilty that they had become lost inside the deep hiding place. Cappy only laughed and remarked that every thrifter knows that sometimes the best part of a purchase comes as a surprise. 

Cappy moved away some time ago and I have nobody who likes to tour thrift shops with me. I’ve tried going alone but it is not nearly as much fun as having my friend by my side. I realize that it was never about the finds for me. It was always about spending time with someone who allowed me to laugh or cry or just be silent if I so desired. Special people like Cappy are difficult to find. 

We talk on the phone as often as we can. Cappy is still an inveterate thrift shopper. She finds little stores selling used items on all of her trips and reports her successes to me with commentaries and photos. She has an eye for color that allows her to put together rooms with objects from disparate places. They blend as though she had planned for them before she ever saw them. She uses and reuses things in ways that few of us would ever think of doing. She finds beauty in the discarded just as she always remains a loving and faithful friend. 

One day I hope to go visit Cappy in her new home in Florida. She tells me that she has found some wonderful thrift stores there and urges me to come explore them with her. I definitely have to find the time to travel there just be with her again. She has the most beautiful way of finding worth in people and things that others have discarded. I want to feel that love that she so generously offers in person once again. Maybe we will even find an unexpected treasure that I was not even aware that I needed.