In the heart of downtown Kidron, on any day except Sunday, there will be an odd mixture people from all over. Amish and English, locals and tourists, young and old. Many folks visit Kidron to see the Amish and spend some time in the main attraction - Lehman’s - a hardware store (but much, much more) that is known far and wide for selling non-electric products. The store parking lot will often have cars and trucks with license plates from several different states of the union, and sometimes from Canadian Provinces.
Today was exceptional though. Three days a year we have special auctions that bring hoards of people to the Kidron Auction grounds just across the street from Lehman’s. If you were here today, you experienced Kidron during one of it’s busiest times. In fact, you may have been surprised by the near impossibility of navigating the two roads leading into-and-out-of our small town.
In addition to the sale traffic, we had some excitement this morning when a fire broke out in Gerber Lumber’s mill building. It seemed like every fire department in the county was there. Sort of reminded me of a parade. At one point, there were thirteen fire trucks lined up, prepared for the worst. There was potential for the mill to go up in flames, and along with it, the nearby buildings. It could have been a catastrophe. But thanks to the good work of the firemen, the fire was contained, and the building was saved.
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| They cut a hole in the roof. |
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| A line of firetrucks from many local departments, standing by. |
Today was the first of three annual Machinery sales at the Kidron Auction grounds in downtown Kidron. On the first Saturday of March, first Saturday of April, and again in August (20th of August this year) there are machinery auctions where local folks (and not-so-local) can bring farm machinery, lawn mowers, cars, trucks, canoes, four-wheelers, bicycles, rabbit hutches, washing machines, lumber, building supplies, well...just about anything, to be auctioned off. Anything but junk - and that is left up to the discretion of those who are checking in and tagging the offerings.
Over the years, I’ve sold a number of items there myself. You take a chance, selling at an auction like this. You may get a good price, or you may not.
An old farm trailer that I had labored many hours over, rebuilding and repainting, brought fifteen dollars. You read that right. Some sellers will be there to bid their item up to the dollar amount that they want. I suppose that’s wise in one sense, but it always seemed almost unethical to me. Bidding up your own item just never seemed to me to be a completely honest policy.
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| Checking out a two-row horse-drawn John Deere planter. |
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| A sea of buggies. |
Another time I sold an item that I wasn’t even sure what it was. When we moved to our mini-farm twenty-five years ago, there was a large contraption left there by the former owner. It appeared to be some sort of round-bale carrier, but perhaps a design that was used in the infancy of round bales. It was a gangly beast, all rusty and missing a wheel on one side. Not being sure what it was, or what to do with it, I made up my mind to locate another wheel for it, de-rust it, paint it bright yellow, and send it to the Kidron machinery sale. To me it was junk to dispose of, and this was the way to do it. Amazingly, it brought one-hundred-and-fifty dollars! Again, you just never know.
Here’s another anecdote from my machinery sale experiences. I took some brand new sections of rain gutters there to sell one day. Four lengths of it glimmered in the sun as the crowd moved down the line. Now picture this. The crowd is standing shoulder-to-shoulder, surrounding the auctioneer who is describing and selling each item. He chants rapidly as he plies his trade and works the crowd to get the most bucks. His mouth is moving a mile-a-minute, and his eyes are darting around looking for the bidders. He doesn’t hesitate long. Bidders must jump in or get left behind. “Sold!” he says, and moves to the next thing.
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| Packed in tight around the auctioneer. |
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| Moving down the line of farm equipment. And then I saw him. See the guy with the bright orange cap, and carhart coat. He looked just like Uncle Si of Duck Dynasty. |
From one item to the next, the auctioneer and the pack of people moved down the line, ever closer to my rain gutters, and I moved along with them. I wanted to see what my gutters and downspouts would bring. To my dismay, when the auctioneer got to my spouting, it had been trampled to death by the pack of people who didn’t watch where they were stepping, and it now laid flat and crumpled. The auctioneer looked sadly at the forlorn rain gutters, and commented that this was perhaps an item that shouldn’t have been brought here. He couldn’t get a bid, and I don’t blame anyone. The mistake was mine. I should have known.
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| What do you think? Is this Uncle Si? I don't think it was, but he was a good doppelganger. |
Okay, one more auction story. Way back when my oldest son was a little guy, I wanted to buy him a tricycle. There we’re several at the machinery sale. I followed the crowd as it worked it’s way down the line, but it was impossible to see when the auctioneer was selling the trike that I wanted. The crowd was noisy, and packed in tight. I was too far back, and it was all over before I knew it. That was a bit frustrating, so I made up my mind what I had to do. I moved ahead of the pack to another trike, and literally straddled it, planting my feet firmly on either side. As the crowd moved nearer, and then surrounded me, I refused to budge. It took some doing to remain standing, but I managed. As the auctioneer pronounced the offering of a trike, his eyes were level with mine, staring me in the face from about two feet away. It was unnerving, but I got the trike, and my little boy was a happy camper. This experience almost took on biblical proportions when I think of the crowds that often pressed around Jesus, just wanting His touch - His words of hope, and His hand of healing. I can (in a small way) sympathize with those who were desperate enough to cut a hole in a roof and let a paralyzed man down right in front of Jesus. Sometimes in a tight crowd you just have to do what you have to do.
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| A few well-used items. |
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| Father and son checking out a planter ahead of the pack. |
Aw shucks, can’t stop yet. One last story. Many years ago my young son and I were at the Kidron livestock auction on a Thursday afternoon, in hopes of buying our first goat. At that time, there was no “ring” for selling goats and sheep, and the auctioneer moved from pen to pen. The old feller doing the auction-cry had likely been okay in his hey-day, but at this point in life his speech had become rather slurred and garbled. It was next to impossible for me to understand what he was saying. Some auctioneers have a chant that is loud and clear - pronouncing each vowel and consonant in a way that is completely remarkable for the speed in which they speak. But not this gentleman. It was frustrating to me, and my little boy kept pounding my leg and asking, “What is he saying?” I didn’t know. Then out of the blue, someone shouted, “I can’t understand you!” At that, the startled auctioneer glared straight at me, and I realized those words had flown from my own mouth. I looked at the ground, and then I looked behind me, as if someone back there had said it. Nope. It was me, and we ended up going home goatless. It was not my finest hour.
On auction days like today, there are also vendors around at different places, hoping to make some sales. Our church has a food trailer which serves the needs of the hungry masses, and at the same time, makes some money to support our mission projects.
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| A couple happy noodle eaters. |
Okay, enough rambling. Thought you might enjoy a few pictures taken today at the “Amish Reunion.” (Didn’t mention that before, but that’s what the local people call these events.) Take a look, you’ll see what I mean. Read the captions for additional thoughts and observations.
From Kidron, Ohio, the little town in the country, where the men are homely but hopeful, the women are beautiful, and the much-loved children are full of energy and potential. Let’s remember to treat these little ones with patience and kindness, folks. Some day they will be our doctor or nurse, paramedic or fireman. They might be our pastor or tax adviser - even our undertaker. These little ones thrive on our attention and approval. They need instruction with patience, sometimes correction with love; a Mommy’s warm hug, and a gentle Daddy holding their hand or wrestling with them on the living room floor.
Until next time, so long.
