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Going once . . . going twice . . . gone!! Sold to bidder number 80. The date was Saturday, April 29, 1995. My wife Patsy and I were attending a household auction in Cashton, Wisconsin. Auctions had become one of our favorite pastimes, and we especially enjoyed collecting antiques to display in our folk Victorian home. At that auction, we were not intending to buy anything in particular but were willing, nevertheless, to bid if the right object caught our attention. Earlier in the day, we had executed our pre-auction ritual. We arrived about an hour before the sale and methodically inspected the items to be sold. We had learned from experience that once the selling started, there was little time to look things over. As I explored inside the garage of the residence, I spotted an old cardboard box. Upon examining its contents, I found a large quantity of envelopes. Most of the envelopes were blank, but on a few I noticed some printing along their top. I looked closer and read the words U.S. Sanitary Commission; on others, I read U.S. Christian Commission . Being a U.S. history teacher, I knew that during the Civil War both organizations had made significant contributions to the Union cause. None of the envelopes were sealed, so I picked one up and carefully peeked inside. I discovered a letter dated 1864. I thought to myself, “These are not just any old letters. They are, or at least I believe they are, Civil War letters.” I was excited, to say the least, but I was also an auction veteran. So I tried not to bring too much attention to myself. I made every e¤ort to act normal , at least normal for me. I quietly shared the news of my discovery with Patsy. She humored me and, at least on the surface, seemed to validate my xi Preface excitement with her own. Her enthusiasm was, however, somewhat more tempered than mine, and she quickly helped me arrive at my bidding limit. Then I waited . . . and waited . . . and waited some more. Often thousands of items are sold at auctions, and I knew I needed to maintain my focus on the proceedings. I tried to be sociable and not be rude, but I also made every e¤ort to keep from being distracted. After what seemed like an eternity, I began to panic. Had the letters already sold? Did I somehow miss them? Where were they? I shared my concerns with Patsy. She advised that I should exhibit more patience. Finally, I saw the box! The time for the sale of the letters had come. The bidding began. In our experience, auctioneers usually start by seeking a high bid before bringing the price down to secure a first bid. Sometimes auction rookies, being overzealous, bite at the high price. When that happens, the opening bid is often higher than my limit, and I end up getting in no bid at all. This time, however, the price came down. I bid early, but not too early. I did not want to appear too interested in buying the box. I also waited to see if family members of the auction household were bidding. I had made it a practice not to compete against a family trying to maintain ownership of one of its heirlooms. But I was relieved and surprised to find that no family descendants were bidding. As the price increased, prospective buyers gradually weeded themselves out. Then, only a local antique dealer and I remained. The price was rapidly approaching my limit. I glanced at Patsy and saw a somewhat troubled look on her face. I knew that my participation would soon need to end. I thought I would have to accept the old adage: you can’t always have what you want. Suddenly my competitor stopped bidding. At least for the moment, I held the high bid. I waited. I knew that a late bidder or some crafty auction attendant might still get into the action and push the price beyond my reach. Meanwhile, the auctioneer worked the crowd in an attempt to get one last o¤er. I waited some more. After what seemed to be a long pause, it was over. The box and its contents were mine. Applause arose from the crowd, and I stepped forward to claim my prize. I gripped that box of letters like a running back grips a football at the goal line: tight! Very tight!! For $95...

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