Friday Flashback

Starting sometime after I was in third grade, we had a travelling salesman visit us every year or so. He said his name was Mr. Singh ("you can sing it!") and he peddled hand carved, inlaid wood items from, I assume, India. How it is that my mother agreed to let hin in the house, to spread his wares all over the living room floor, let alone bought anything from him is beyond me. But she did, and she did. I have two trivets that were among her first purchases. She still has an incredibly intricate side table, trivets of her own, and probably more.

I'm pretty sure Mr. Singh's gig was a scam. I'll bet mom paid more than this stuff was worth, but she liked it, and was probably a little starved for company. I remember on more than one occasion coming home to find the Rainbow or Kirby guy vacuuming the front room. She bought one of those too. And encyclopedias now that I think of it. In fact, my little sister just about got herself signed up for accordion lessons when someone came to the door looking for untapped musical talent.