by Sarah Peterson
Antique, vintage, retro, old-fashioned, faded, chippy, crazed, or rusted. Why does the mere mention of these words tug at our heartstrings? Well, maybe not everyone’s heart strings, but if the old saying, “one man’s trash is another man’s treasure,” is true, then call me a treasure hunter. “Old” is not for everyone, but for the right soul, “old” is everything.
If you’ve ever stopped to pick up a chippy wooden chair from the curb, ever felt a flutter when opening the door to a second-hand store, or ever excitedly scanned tables at a yard sale or flea market for that diamond in the rough, you might have a heart for “old.”
And it’s not just about old treasures found; it’s also about old treasures kept. There’s something about running your fingers through the pages of a book that was hand-inscribed to a long-gone relative, sorting through your grandmother’s handwritten recipes, or displaying trinkets, relics, or collections that have been passed through the hands before us.
A few years back, my grandparents’ Wisconsin farmhouse was cleaned out to make space for a new family to live there—a place where many of my core childhood memories of all seasons were formed. Crunching bright red apples in the orchard, riding a trailer full of freshly picked pumpkins, and roaming through fields barefoot and muddy. My aunt was gracious enough to let me come and sift through the things that had piled up through the years. I carefully chose some pieces I couldn’t let slip into the donation bins. Nothing of extreme importance or great monetary worth, but a few treasures to display in my own home as little reminders of a place I loved, filled with people I loved.
One item I kept was a slightly rusted tin from “Bremner Wafers” (circa 1960). The mint-green color and vintage graphics caught my eye and it’s nothing you can find in the stores today. I display it on a shelf, stacked atop old books, or fill it with fresh flowers. Every time I see the tin, it is a reminder of my grandparents, their farm, the gardens, my childhood, and a connection to the past—a different time—and in my mind, a simpler time.
What is it about these items that gives us a little thrill? Is it nostalgia? Is it memories of a loved one? Is it the smell, sound, or feel of a place we once were, or could only imagine?
Or, perhaps, it’s the cracks, the rust stains, the dents, and the wear that remind us of our own lives, which began shiny and new, but got a little bumped, dented, and rusted along the way. We get tattered and worn, but we remain, we persist, we grow in character, we are etched with memories in hopes that one day, we may turn into old treasures ourselves.
This article was originally published in the September 2025 issue of Appleton Monthly Magazine.
