Previously, I stated that I didn’t have time to pontificate about the card show I recently attended. Well, I lied.
While sitting down to look through some long boxes, I overhead an interesting conversation between the seller and a little old lady. She was in search of some card from 1959 Topps. I wasn’t particularly interested in ’59 Topps, though I did think it noteworthy that a lady who appeared to be in her late 80’s was at a card show, but I was too engrossed in looking for the cards that I wanted to give it my full attention. However, I couldn’t help but hear the reason why she was looking for the card.
She told the dealer that her husband had been a professional baseball player, and though he didn’t have a long career, he did have a baseball card issued in 1959 Topps. Since his death a few years ago, this lady went to card shows and looked for his card, buying all that she could find.
I couldn’t tell if she was crying, but her voiced cracked when she said, “He looked so handsome on that card.”
Upon hearing the story, the dealer pointed to a long box and said that if he had the card, it would be in that particular box. He then took her leave and walked away. I was taken by her story. I wanted to go over to her, tell her that I had heard her story, and offer to help look, but I felt that maybe in that moment, she wanted to look by herself.
I also thought that it would be an interesting card to own. After all, the story behind it would be better than the card itself. Unfortunately, I didn’t hear the name of her husband.
As it turns out, it wouldn’t have mattered. The dealer, after leaving her to look through his box, went to all of the other tables that sold vintage cards, and returned with all of them, 11 copies of her husband’s rookie card. When he handed her the stack, she tried to resist, saying that she didn’t need all of them, but he said that when he told the other dealers, they each wanted her to have the card. This time, I did see tears in her eyes. In the sweetest little rasp of a voice, she tried to say, “Thank you.”
Now I regret not eavesdropping more carefully.