I had plenty of relatives that had antiques in their home.

I didn't call them antiques. I called them old crap that I was too fat for.

When I was a "growing" boy we would travel to see all the old people that were close to death. My parents wanted me to meet these people. Good idea, but at the time I was too young, dumb and full of... to care. Plus, they never had anything new in their home. Everything was old.

They would always welcome us into their home with a smile on their face.

"Sit. Sit. I'll make some coffee."

"Is this chair supposed to make cracking noises?"

"Oh dear lord Jesus! Get up! Get up! Get up! That chair was brought to this country by my father all the way from Germany."

"Was he addle minded?"

"What did you just say?"

"Sorry, I'll rephrase. Was he stupid? Why would he chose to come to a country that he thought didn't have chairs? This country makes chairs you know. Look. here's a Sears catalog. It has chairs in it."

"Why I never."

"I'm not surprised. You'd break the chair. Mom, Dad, enjoy your coffee, I'll be in the car."

Because I would break things when I sat on them, I could give two jerks about shopping for "antiques", but, like so many other things, I'm in the minority.

In Sherman Texas you'll find three stories of antiques. If you love buying stuff that fat people can't use, then you should take a road trip to Sherman.

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