‘Needful Things for Soccer Moms’: The Lowly Garage Sale Comes of Age

Working gals and stay-at-home moms do it regularly and with the same wild-eyed passion, in side-yards, driveways and even on street-corners, hoping to pick up a few extra bucks.

Dads and firefighters and policemen do it, usually with less fervor, but with the same motivation. In most small towns, church groups do it in their halls and basements, luring non-believers to them in droves.

And, across the country, whole communities are doing it together now, border to border, sharing proceeds forked over by excited outsiders.

Fueled by the adage that one’s man’s trash is another man’s treasure, the once-lowly “garage sale” has come of age.

Like “must-see TV” and “must-read” political blogs, garage sales — and their brethren flea markets, moving sales, estate sales and yard sales — are rapidly rising to the top of “must-do” lists all over the country.

Each weekend all spring, summer and fall — and more often in warmer-clime states — thousands of garage sale sites will offer everything from socks to sewing machines, Bibles to baskets to baby clothes, comic books to computers, housewares to holiday decorations. Some folks even sell their vehicles, appliances, boats, time-shares and homes at a garage sale.

The lure of the One Great Find will clog usually quiet streets with out-of-towners bearing canvas bags for their goodies and a burning desire to find that one fabulous deal. The hard-core garage salers aren’t hard to spot. They’re out early-early, flinty-eyed and on a mission, usually toting a newspaper or a hand-scrawled map.

They’re there waiting for you when you open your sale, and they’re usually all business. They don’t want coffee, they don’t want breakfast, they want to peruse the merchandise, make their purchases and be on their way.

There are ups and downs, advantages and aggravations in every human enterprise, and the garage sale is no exception. But most of the time, hosting a garage sale “is a win-win for everyone,” says one director of a midwestern Chamber of Commerce.

Local governments often regulate the sales, and sell permits for a small fee — anywhere from $3 to $12 each. In many civic and community-wide garage sales, local officials turn the permit proceeds over to the local Chamber or some other targeted not-for-profit organization.

Even if they’re not on the receiving end of permit proceeds, small non-profit groups, such as library boards, fire departments, senior citizens centers, homeless shelters and churches, use the garage sale event as a way of “spring cleaning,” garnering local-based publicity and hosting a fund-raiser all in the same process.

So what drives the hard-core garage saler to rise at dawn and drive to the homes of strangers to buy used items that many of them never dreamed of owning?

“You could call it ‘Needful Things for Soccer Moms,'” said Beth Bryson, 28, a suburban Chicago mom who summers in southwestern Michigan, and who was one of the first on the scene of the community garage sale in Bridgman, Michigan this year.

“I see a sign that says ‘garage sale,’ and I can’t resist it.

“Finding a whole town full of sales all within walking distance? This is like Heaven to someone like me!”

Bryson’s comments aren’t uncommon among hard-core garage salers, and they’re music to the ears of families, schools, churches, communities and non-profit groups that have seized the garage sale as a sure-fire source of quick cash.

And the money raised often goes to worthy causes. Bridgman’s city-wide sale, where Bryson was spotted, is an annual fundraiser, where sellers pay $12 for a sale permit to help fund activities in support of Bridgman Public Library.

In another town, a local church sold hot dogs and pop along with its parishioners’ cast-off items, pledging to donate all sale proceeds to a local ministry. A group of middle-aged former sorority sisters set up garage-sale shop in one of the members’ yards, and raised more than $1,000 for college scholarships.

And there were other causes to support: an auto repair shop was donating proceeds to cancer research; a local Lions Club was raising money to help the family of a terminally ill child.

Whatever the seller’s motivation, there’s no doubt that the love of a bargain drives many buyers into church basements, side-yards and strangers’ garages. Every weekend, sellers and buyers do find each other with one dedicated shared goal: to make a good deal on nearly-new or well-used merchandise.

Jesse Smith of rural Howard Township, Michigan, was flagged down as she was loading her large, red “faux plastic” tote bag — last year’s garage sale find — with children’s clothing during a sale. Smith goes “sale-ing” every weekend, she says, in various towns across southwestern Michigan and northern Indiana.

Where’s the best place to shop? She confided her belief that “those folks in the cities don’t know the value of things. You can count on city sales to have some really good stuff, and cheap.”

Smith said even with high gasoline prices, the trips are worth the savings: she routinely buys clothing for her three youngsters at garage sales, much of it “like new,” priced at “25 cents to three dollars.”

For seller Dave Zars, the spirit of competition — and the chance to recycle myriad odds and ends — drives him to spend the better part of the year on the look-out for “sellable” items that other people overstocked, don’t want or plan to discard.

This year, he posted signs at his sale, promoting his claim to fame: “Almost everything under $1.00.”

Like-new soccer shoes for a quarter a pair, boxes of unused coffee mugs, also a quarter each, and 30 “great chairs for one dollar each” were among the bargains drawing folks to the neighborhood.

“I look forward to it all year,” says Zars. “It’s great. People know where to come if they want a great deal. They pretty much cleaned me out this morning.”

For buyer Bill Guekes, the art of barter and bargaining is alive and well and “a necessary part” of the garage sale process. “What’ll you really take for this?” he asked Zars, holding out a like-new insulated drink sleeve priced at a quarter.

The men agreed on a dime, and Guekes moved on to the next yard.

Bryson, the mom from suburban Chicago, said the weekend sales have her “addicted.” Crowded side streets and congested parking lots don’t trouble her at all, she said. She parked in a church parking lot, dashed to the church basement for a sampling from their bake sale, picked up some festive holiday ornaments and was back on the street in minutes.

“Crowds? Are you kidding? Ever tried to shop in Chicago?” she asked. “I’ll probably be here all day. There’s food, drinks … and how can you beat these prices?”