When I was little, and even when I grew to be a teenager and adult, I spent many hours at my grandparents’ house. They lived in a small town, with a railroad track across the street. As a kid, you could walk around the town without having to worry about being stolen or running into strangers. Everyone was friendly and those that weren’t, you were warned to stay away from. Golden Girls and Love Connection were favorites of my grandparents, and as a kid you watched the show with them or amused yourself with the endless supply of paper that my grandfather got from the mill or the pile of boardgames hidden behind the couch in the front room.
As a child, I always played with a wooden puzzle that was kept underneath the living room couch. This puzzle had nothing exciting about it. It was a wooden puzzle with less than fifteen pieces. The figure on the puzzle was a frog sitting on a lily pad. Now, not just any frog, but one with a hat, bowtie, and yellow suit. I loved this puzzle and once I entered my grandparents’ home for a visit, took my shoes off in the front room, I would reach my little arm underneath the living couch to feel for the puzzle. It was always there waiting for me, like a good friend.
Over the years, the frog's left hand disappeared, but I still put the pieces together nonetheless. As I grew into my teenage years, I would still look under the couch to make sure that the puzzle was there. It was a constant at my grandparents’ home, something that I felt “belonged” to me at their house. I don’t know the story of how I first came across the puzzle. I’m sure it wasn’t anything dramatic, most likely being a 5 year old sifting through the games and coloring books in the laundry room on the back porch and finding this puzzle. But, whatever the story was behind it, I loved it and loved the memory of sitting on my grandparents’ living room floor, the light brown rug that was and still is older than I am, and putting the puzzle together.
As I went off to college and graduate school, I occasionally would ask my gram if she had stumbled across the puzzle in any of her cleaning bouts. It had disappeared from its’ place under the couch, and as much as I tried I could not locate it. In my 20s, I would continue to look under the couch, thinking that magically it would appear. I checked under the furniture in the front room that we were never allowed to sit in, but to no avail. The laundry room and junk room proved futile. The frog had upped and left.
After my grandmother passed away, her home and its’ contents were left to be sifted through. There were a few things that I knew that I wanted, such as the sea captain statue, the rocking horse whose left ear had been broken off numerous times, and my favorite mug that I always used at her house. The thing that I wanted the most was that frog puzzle. I needed it. It had to be found.
Boxes of stuff had been piled in the front room for the grandchildren to look through, picking and choosing what we wanted. My eyes were on the lookout for an orange wooden board, a frog with a missing left hand. The puzzle was not found in the boxes, it was not found in the junk room, and it wasn’t found in the basement. All of the furniture had been moved and I no longer had to reach under and swipe my hand across the carpet to find that reassuring piece of wooden board. It was gone.
I was saddened. Out of all of the items, all of my grandparents’ belongings, this simple puzzle was the one thing that I associated most with. It held a time span of memories and I so wanted to be able to find it once again and bring it home.
A year after my grandmother’s death, the puzzle had not surfaced. I gave up hoping that somehow it would miraculously appear. It was gone, most likely thrown out either during the clean up or years prior. Someone probably saw this puzzle, worn over time, a frog with a missing hand, and figured it for trash. I didn’t stop thinking about it though… I thought maybe it would be one of those “it was meant to find me” finds at a flea market. I’d be walking along and look down at a $1 table and there would be the frog, sitting pretty with his tie waiting for me to take him home. Nope.
I had ventured to EBay other times looking for the puzzle. I’d use the words “frog puzzle” and “wooden frog” to try and find the exact item, but nothing close ever came up. Last week, I tried yet again to see if the puzzle would surface on EBay. I didn’t enter different search words, sticking with the frog puzzle and wooden frog puzzle phrases. Two listings appeared on the screen. There it was, my beloved frog puzzle.
I couldn’t believe my eyes. EBay had pulled through! I clicked on the listing to find that this was an auction with a Buy It Now option. The listing was for not only my frog puzzle, but another wooden puzzle of a goose. The starting auction price was $9.99 and the Buy It Now option was $15.99. The listing still was active for another five days and already had 4 watchers. With shipping, the total cost to buy the item without waiting around for auction was $23. I didn’t think twice.
This is where my re-selling skills came into play. I knew that with already four watchers and five days left in the auction that these puzzles weren’t going to be around for the full auction time span. There was no sense putting in a bid, only to be outbid, put in another bid, and then be outbid again. Bidding could end up costing me more than the Buy It Now option,
Was I overpaying? Perhaps. The auction was for two puzzles and I only wanted one. But, by doing some research, I learned that my chances of reselling the 2nd puzzle were good. This puzzle brand, Sifo, was popular. Looking into the Ebayer who listed the frog puzzle, most of their previous sales consisted of all Sifo puzzles. Apparently, these were wanted items and people were willing to pay. So, with this in mind, I knew that: 1. I had to buy this auction, and not wait to bid. 2. I could make some of my money back by reselling the 2nd puzzle. 3. I wanted to look more into this Sifo company.
I purchased the puzzles and waited anxiously for the package to arrive. When my EBay find came in the mail, I immediately opened up the box and there it was – a memory of my childhood finally returned to me. Sure, it wasn’t *the* puzzle that I had tucked away underneath my grandparents’ couch, but it was that same frog with the bow tie and yellow suit finally looking back at me. I had regained something that was lost, a returned treasure.
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| * My Returned Treasure * |
And that is the magic of EBay. My frog puzzle story is the same for millions of other people; you just have to swap out the frog for another other item. There are a million different reasons why people buy on EBay and one of the most prominent is to regain something that was lost. Why do you think that vintage toys go for ridiculous prices? You can put a price on nostalgia and people will pay it. Sure, it may seem trivial and some may view it as a waste of money, but to others regaining a piece of their history is worth the price.
That is why I think that those that view reselling as taking advantage of people/ripping people off need to look at it through a different perspective. Resellers are offering a service to the world at large – the ability to reconnect and/or find that “perfect” item. The person that I bought the puzzle from could have purchased a shed full of Sifo puzzles for a low cost. They clean, photograph, and list the puzzles. Do I know how much each puzzle roughly cost them? No idea, but I’m sure it was much, much less than what I paid. Do I not buy the puzzle because I don’t want to pay $15 for something that cost them $1? Nope. I want the puzzle, I want the memory back, and so I pay the price.
Could I have waited to see if perhaps another frog puzzle would be listed on EBay? Sure. But, one might never be listed again and I would still be on the search for a memory. Thanks to this Ebayer, I now do not have to think of the idea of having this puzzle lost. I don’t have to rely on just the memory of it. I have the item & I have the story of finding it again. That is why people collect and why people scavage: to bring back what was lost, to shake off the dust and be made new.
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