I will be out again at the Met. tomorrow (Fri.)
I know that I haven't written anything interesting in the blog lately, or even managed to post any new photos - that is the result of being busy "making a living." I finally finished up the orders that had come through the web, and made a new batch of cards; and matted a whole bunch of new things to take out to the street.
I guess I have some pedler in my blood... certainly not my mom or dad, but go back a generation on my father's side and they are all over the place. Unfortunately, gene-wise, they were not any good at it from what I have learned. My paternal grandfather sold hats, apples, milk, and eventually opened a small grocery store that went out of business like most of his other operations.
According to my father - my grandfather (Max) was too nervous to sell and had the singular ability to drive customers away and fight with them over an extra slice of cheese. His wife (Fanny), wore coke-bottle glasses and generally added customers bills up badly because she didn't see very well.
However, the good thing, gene-wise, was that my dad, when he came back from WWII worked in the store for a while and he says that customers would always seek him out since he could tell them a joke, and was more personable.
My dad's favorite grocery story goes like this:
One day, two slick-looking salesmen came by. They were selling cans of pineapples. They convinced my grandfather that there was going to be a lack of pineapples soon and that they were the only ones in the neighborhood that could keep them in stock. Apparantly they sold him several dozen cases of these pineapples. Enough to last a decade. And they did last that long. When the store went out of business, the auditor went down into the basement and found dozens of cases of pineapples sitting there.
But - if you go back to my great grandfather's brother Isaac, you hear stories about a fantastic saleman. A man that could sell anything (this was in Poland). They say that after working as a hawker for a long while and doing very well, he bought a small rowboat and began a sort of ferry service across a small river in Poland and quickly became wealthy doing this. One boat at first and after a year, he had a fleet of small wooden rowboats and was able to retire and live in a big house. Whether this is true or not, I don't know - but I hope some of Isaac's genes have made their way down the family tree to me.