We have updated our website due to bad weather Thursday we will be opening this sale early and selling from 12noon-6pm on Wednesday December 2nd.
Jere Bashinski; Father, Criminal Investigator, Computer wizard….and One Helluva Guy

[address removed for privacy]

Wednesday December 2nd 12noon-6pm fair pricing

Thursday December 3rd 9am-12noon fair pricing 12noon-6pm 20% discount
Friday December 4th 9am-6pm all items 30% discount
Saturday 8am-12noon 50% discount and box-lot 12noon-2pm
Free and donation going from driveway and garage on Saturday
Be sure to bring plenty of boxes and your own wrapping paper if need be.

We just found tons of ephemera dating back to the 1800s, some 78s, 33s, lots and lots of lps and movies, toys, games, vintage kid’s books, loads of early sewing and linens and crochet, hankies, purses, belts and belt buckles, very old beads and notions, plenty of unopened vitamins (think in the 1000s) and anything else you may want or need for your own home.

Expect a Martin acoustic guitar, fantastic vintage and antique furniture, vintage and antique books, records, sheet music, artwork, jewelry, pottery, ceramics, vintage toys and clothing, lots and lots and lots of Hotwheels and matchbox cars, tin collection, tools galore, patio and pool furniture, pots and plants, commercial metal shelving, camping and outdoor equipment, office and computer supplies, electronics, stairway electric lift chair, appliances, mens and ladies clothing, teak furniture, various collectibles and great household offerings.

We are also proud to announce our annual fundraiser for the cats and dogs at Kitty Wits and Precious Dens Charity this year co-hosted by the fabulous SacValleyAuction house in Woodland. We are delighted they will be assisting us by selling all items at public online auction so you can get exactly what you want and buy it with no pressure to wait in line, show up in the dark, or fight the crowds. Instead just simply sit comfortably at your computer and bid away and get exactly what your heart desires. We hope to break our record for the amount of money we are able to raise for these lonely cats and dogs and with your help we know we can. Every penny of the sale’s event this year will go directly to the charities since we will not have rent, labor or expenses to pay to make this happen. Scott and Debbie Mansell at SacValley Auction have been so kind to offer their services as well so we are in good hands!

Your donations are welcomed at Sac Valley Auction house in Woodland if you will simply bring them there to add to the sale from Monday the 7th on. Please make sure to call Scott or Debbie first to make certain when they will be around to accept items. Also please remember we are only selling quality, useful items this year and hope you will only bring great things to sell to help save the cats and dogs.
We’ve had several generous clients offer buyouts of our last few sales at the end of the day on the jewelry, silver, smalls and collectibles. They will all be offered back for sale at this charity event so be sure to stop by next week when we will have photos available for you to view of all the great items that will be for sale plus more added each day from December 7th until the auction date of December 14th-17th when the bidding will commence.

Scroll to the bottom of the photos to read a REALLY great story shared with me by my friend Barry up in Reno. You’ll be glad you did and I dare you not to tear up!

This true story is of the 1967 experience of a young 12 year old lad in Kingston, Ontario, Canada. It is about the vivid memory of a privately rebuilt P-51 from WWII, and its famous owner/pilot.       

“In the morning sun, I could not believe my eyes. There, in our little airport, sat a majestic P-51.  They said it had flown in during the night from some U.S. airport, on its way to an air show. The pilot had been tired, so he just happened to choose Kingston for his stopover.  It was to take to the air again very soon.  I marveled at the size of the plane, dwarfing the Pipers and Canucks tied down near her. It was much larger than in the movies.  She glistened in the sun like a bulwark of security from days gone by.

The pilot arrived by cab, paid the driver, and then stepped into the pilot’s lounge.  He was an older man; his wavy hair was gray and tossed. It looked like it might have been combed, say, around the turn of the century.  His flight jacket was checked, creased and worn – it smelled old and genuine. Old Glory was prominently sewn to its shoulders.  He projected a quiet air of proficiency and pride, devoid of arrogance.  He filed a quick flight plan to Montreal (“Expo-67 Air Show”) then walked across the tarmac.

After taking several minutes to perform his walk-around check, the tall, lanky man returned to the flight lounge to ask if  anyone would be available to stand by with fire extinguishers while he “flashed the old bird up, just to be safe.”  Though only 12 at the time I was allowed to stand by with an extinguisher after brief instruction on its use — “If you see a fire, point, then pull this lever!”, he said.  (I later became a firefighter, but that’s another story.)  The air around the exhaust manifolds shimmered like a mirror from fuel fumes as the huge prop started to rotate.  One manifold, then another, and yet another barked — I stepped back with the others.  In moments the Packard-built Merlin engine came to life with a thunderous roar. Blue flames knifed from her manifolds with an arrogant snarl.  I looked at the others’ faces; there was no concern.  I lowered the bell of my extinguisher.  One of the guys signaled to walk back to the lounge.  We did.

Several minutes later we could hear the pilot doing his preflight run-up.  He’d taxied to the end of runway 19, out of sight. All went quiet for several seconds. We ran to the second story deck to see if we could catch a glimpse of the P-51 as she started down the runway. We could not. There we stood, eyes fixed to a spot half way down 19. Then a roar ripped across the field, much louder than before. Like a furious hell spawn set loose –something mighty this way was coming. “Listen to that thing!” said the controller.

In seconds the Mustang burst into our line of sight. It’s tail was already off the runway and it was moving faster than anything I’d ever seen by that point on 19.  Two-thirds of the way down 19 the Mustang was airborne with her gear going up. The prop tips were supersonic.  We clasped our ears as the Mustang climbed hellishly fast into the circuit to be eaten up by the dog-day haze. We stood for a few moments, in stunned silence, trying to digest what we’d just seen.             

The radio controller rushed by me to the radio. “Kingston tower calling Mustang.”  He looked back to us as he waited for an acknowledgment.  The radio crackled, “Go ahead, Kingston.” “Roger, Mustang. Kingston tower would like to advise the circuit is clear for a low level pass.”  I stood in shock because the controller had just, more or less, asked the pilot to return for an impromptu air show! The controller looked at us. “Well, what?” he asked. “I can’t let that guy go without asking. I couldn’t forgive myself!              

The radio crackled once again,  “Kingston, do I have permission for a low level pass, east to west, across the field?” “Roger, Mustang, the circuit is clear for an east to west pass.” “Roger, Kingston, I’m coming out of 3,000 feet, stand by.”         

We rushed back onto the second-story deck, eyes fixed toward the eastern haze. The sound was subtle at first, a high-pitched whine, a muffled screech, a distant scream. Moments later the P-51 burst through the haze.  Her air frame straining against positive G’s and gravity. Her wing tips spilling contrails of condensed air, prop-tips again supersonic. The burnished bird blasted across the eastern margin of the field shredding and tearing the air. At about 500 mph and 150 yards from where we stood she passed with the old American pilot saluting. Imagine! A salute! I felt like laughing; I felt like crying; she glistened; she screamed; the building shook; my heart pounded.  Then the old pilot pulled her up and rolled, and rolled, and rolled out of sight into the broken clouds and indelibly into my memory.             

I’ve never wanted to be an American more than on that day!  It was a time when many nations in the world looked to America as their big brother.  A steady and even-handed beacon of security who navigated difficult political waters with grace and style; not unlike the old American pilot who’d just flown into my memory.  He was proud, not arrogant, humble, not a braggart, old and honest, projecting an aura of America at its best.            

That America will return one day! I know it will!  Until that time, I’ll just send off this story. Call it a loving reciprocal salute to a Country, and specially to that old American  pilot:  the late-JIMMY STEWART (1908-1997),  Actor, real WWII Hero  (Commander of a US Army Air Force Bomber Wing stationed in England), and a USAF Reserves Brigadier General, who wove a wonderfully fantastic memory for a young Canadian boy that’s lasted a lifetime.”

Tom Towne sent me this and it is pretty darned funny!