who'll buy my memories?

This time of year Uncle Chuck would have twenty different kinds of oysters for sale.  All the same species, but each with a different taste depending on the creek or cove or barrier islands where it was raised.  Instead, Chuck's family was selling off the shop furnishings.  I grabbed a few of the old sign boards Chuck used to list the seafood he had on hand, plus a rusty old pair of tongs.  Nice memories to hang in the garage.