One from the Archives.

I stopped at a junky little yard sale this morning.

When my brother Chuck was alive, he and I used to go to some of the scariest places on earth, all in the quest for old radios.

I was thinking about one time when Chuck , Glen and I went looking... and for a brief moment, I was worried we might not make it out!

So here's how it happened.

Chuck had called some number for a guy who said he had some old antiques and radios.

He asked me and Glen to go along, which we were happy to do... you never know what you're going to find.

So we pull up to the house, which was over near Gerber in Fort Smith.

It should have tipped us off when the house had a 6 foot tall privacy fence all the way around it.... but no... Chuck was SURE there could be a Catlin radio or even the coveted Spartan Nocturne just on the other side of the fence.

We walked up to the fence and knocked on it... no one answered. That was a little strange because we had JUST gotten off the phone with the guy.

So Chuck called him again and the guy said he'd meet us in the driveway.

When the guy came out, we should have slammed the car in reverse and fishtailed out of there!
He was grimier than expected... I kind of wondered whether the home had running water.

While Glen and I were ready to go, Chuck was hopping out of the car and ready to venture into this "home" to see what treasures lie within.

Just as the guy finally decided to take us inside the home... he paused. "None of y'all work for the police or anything do you?' DING DING DING wwwwWWWWWEEEEEEWWwwwwwww! Lights and sirens were going off in my head.

"I work for Wal-Mart" Chuck said... Then Glen said, "No, I work for Beverly Enterprises".... Now, I had to weigh this one carefully.... No, I did NOT work for the police... but I worked for the TV station. I knew that if I answered truthfully it might send this guy into a Meth Induced rage... "I work for Wal-Mart too!" I said.

This was good enough for the man, so he led us inside.

OK, I have been in some really junky houses... Heck, I've LIVED in some really junky houses... but nothing... NOTHING prepared me for this.

WE walked into the "living room" which was lit by a 15 Watt bulb in a lamp with a dirty lampshade... and a strand of Christmas lights that were suspended in a fishing net that was hanging from the ceiling!

The room was FILLED with old coffee cups, McDonald's Happy Meal toys and a few pieces of furniture... you know... the stuff we ALL have left over at the end of a yard sale.

As my eyes adjusted... I saw a woman sitting on the remains of a 1970's couch. She was holding something.... "Is that a dog?" I thought... NO! It was a baby!

As I began to recite the 23rd Psalm, Chuck looked around the room and made small talk with the guy... "A lot of people collect those Happy Meal Toys... do you have any radios?" Chuck asked.. He was always pretty coy about getting the topic BACK to old radios.

"Nothing really in here, I may have some in the back room" the man said.

Now at that moment, I was thinking... he is going to get us in that back room, kill us and bury us in one of these holes in the floor! but before *I* could say anything... "Can we see them?" Chuck asked.

The man lead us down the hall... to a room that had a MATTRESS over the door! "You'll have to move that mattress to get back there" he said. I feel my heart racing and my stomach churning! I made a quick mental note of all the windows I could break out if I had to make a quick exit... Of Course, Chuck walks back there, moves the mattress and goes into the room!

Glen and I stayed at the other end of the hall listening for any sounds of impacts or muffled screams.

Finally Chuck emerged with some little radio that really wasn't worth anything. He bought it anyway because I think he felt sorry for the guy.

When we got back in the car, Chuck said... that place was a little scary! YA THINK?

Chuck could always convince me to go with him into the most God Forsaken places in search of antiques.

At the time, I remember thinking "I will NEVER do this again!"... but I always did when Chuck would get a big lead.

Chuck passed away in 2003, and I really haven't been able to go "junking" too much since. That was something that he and I shared and it just feels empty without him.

For all the hovels and shacks that we went in while he was living, I am truly grateful.

Thankful for the memories that were blazen in my memory by the high adrenaline levels which come with the possibility of being killed and stuffed in the floor.