Flea Market

My sister sets up a booth at the flea market every once in a while, and today, she convinced me to come visit.  As soon as I walked through the gates of the Expo Building of the fairgrounds, I was reminded why I hate the flea market and love it all at the same time.  The people always trip me out at flea markets.  Usually the flea market is paired with a gun show, and today there was fishing show, too, so there was a good mix of old people, men in camouflage, smokers, and people with physical ailments--mainly missing legs, missing hands, and missing eyes.

I didn't stay very long, as I had other plans, but I stayed long enough to find this:

It is a black and white print of a portrait of Franklin Roosevelt by Elizabeth Shoumatoff, which originally was unfinished because as Roosevelt sat for the painting on April 12, 1945 at Warm Springs, GA, he suffered a cerebral hemorrhage that killed him.  I have yet to figure out if this is an original print--it has an original stamp from the Warm Springs Memorial Commission from The Little White House in Warm Springs, GA, and it looks really old, but I am not an expert.  I found one almost exactly like mine in an auction, appraised at 200-300 dollars, which is good for the $5.75 I borrowed from my sister to buy it.

In my adult years, I have developed a penchant for presidential memorabilia, but I am particularly fond of Franklin Roosevelt.  He was a good president, and I think in our troubled times, we can learn from him.  He had a tumultuous personal life, but he was one of few presidents that people truly respected--he was on his fourth term when he died--and he never claimed to have all the answers; however, he asked for the peoples' patience while he and Congress tried to implement measures to make the country a better place.  I found his Fireside Chats available for the Kindle.  I'm sure I'll write more about them once I start reading them.