Some people are lucky in love, others lucky with cards. I can find almost anything I want secondhand. Over the years, with patience, I have saved a bundle and had a lot of fun doing it.

I only wish I had been less shy when I was young because I would have started going to garage sales sooner. Garage sales are where the oddest things speak to you, things you had no idea you wanted until they grab you, and you are walking out of the yard with them.

If it turns out later you made a mistake, such as with the $5 porcelain sink that didn’t sit correctly on your bathroom pedestal or the glass tabletop that got too dirty on the patio, sell them at your own garage sale.

By the time I moved from Austin to Fort Worth in the 1990s, I had not only conquered garage sales but was also confident enough to brave the exotic world of estate sales.

Estate sales were one of Fort Worth’s favorite pastimes in those days. Can’t vouch for now. The sales would start Friday evening, and many were so popular you had to take a ticket and wait until your entry number was called. Some even had valet parking.

Generally speaking, estate sale prices are highest Friday and a little lower on Saturday. On Sunday, many remaining items are half price, and that’s how I got my beautiful hand-thrown pottery lamp with the linen shade and a couple of oil paintings.

Some people shy away from used merchandise. To me, it makes sense to use and reuse good things until they wear out. And the background of a cherished purchase, even if I don’t know the particulars, adds richness to its history.

I also have cultivated the charity shops in large and small towns. I prefer shops run by well-to-do ladies or big churches. The day I realized the depth of the current recession was when the Junior League of Austin Resale Shop (I moved back here in 2000) closed its doors. The Leaguers, many of whom wore the same tiny sizes as I did, apparently had to keep their clothes for more than a season or take them to for-profit consignment shops to turn a few bucks. Whatever happened, there was no longer enough good stock for the store. No more Albert Nipon for me.

Meanwhile, as I aged, I had all the household goods and clothes that I wanted. I had no excuse to go thrifting, but I still had the urge. Now that I’ve retired, I volunteer one afternoon a week at the Next-to-New Shop, run by volunteers of St. David’s Episcopal Church in Austin. We “upstairs ladies” price and tag consignments—clothes, wall hangings, antiques, crystal, china and other goodies. Then the goods go downstairs via a very slow elevator to be displayed and sold by other volunteers. Half the proceeds of sales go to the donors, and the other half is divided between local charities and the church’s building fund.

At a staff meeting, people were asked why they contribute their time to the effort, and everybody but me had noble reasons. I explained I just want to be able to recognize nice old stuff and handle it. I no longer need to buy it. Seeing so much merchandise cured me of the urge to acquire unless it’s something I really, really need.

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Kaye Northcott is a retired editor of Texas Co-op Power.