Redwood Country Flea Market

I've been hitting this little gem since I was a little gem myself. Located just about two miles from my mother's house in Connecticut, Redwood should be filled with antiques and treasures, but each year it seems to be in steady decline from the days of my childhood in the 1980s (think of the old Dick and Ellie's in Mashpee, which is now a shopping plaza, or Elephant Trunk's in New Milford). Back then, I think I was shopping for jelly bracelets and plastic charms. Now Redwood seems to be filled with knock-off Sharpies from China (who needs that?), potted plants, and boxes of cheap shampoo. I don't even think there are any fake designer purses to be had anymore since the raid. I knew not even to bother to wake my husband up when my sister, her boyfriend, my brother, and I decided to head down the road to look for records.

I didn't even bring money.

And it was exactly what I expected, but the more I think about it, the more I think I am starting to love the junk as much as the gems. I won't even bother to tell you much about the legitimately cool stuff that one might consider buying, like Fat Albert comics; a hook rug picturing Bobby Kennedy, JFK, and MLK; Star Wars figures; Match Box Cars; Garbage Pail Kids; record albums; matchbooks and swizzle sticks; and UFO and Citizens' Band (CB Radio) magazines from the '60s! Instead, feast your eyes on these goodies, and try to tell me you don't love it:

The nostalgia for things really not that great, in the form of trading cards (gum, anyone?):




The mundane (until you realize that somebody must buy these things at a hot, dusty summer flea market, and then they become incredible):



The toys that I never had:



The soft, supple, and strange:


I did make one purchase, however, and I had to borrow a dollar from my sister to do so. Unfortunately, I think I forgot it at my mom's house in Connecticut.


One dollar! What a deal!