Who among us has not watched the "Antiques Roadshow" on PBS at least once and been thrilled by the squeals of joy or marveled at the stunned silence as selected participants were told the astronomical monetary value of the items being shown, perhaps a beat-up old side table from great Aunt Sallie's parlor or a worn quilt from between grandma's bed springs and mattress! It is as exciting as winning the lottery--and happens just about that often.

As you must know, (perhaps you were among the estimated 5000 plus people there), "Antiques Roadshow"came to the Chattanooga Convention Center, Saturday , July 19. I was there. I had not planned to be there, but earlier in the week, a friend offered me a ticket (reportedly going on eBay for up to $2000) so I went.

History will little note nor long remember this event, but I shall never forget the hours I spent in lines snaking back and forth across the Chattanooga Convention Center. Yes, it was expertly organized with scores of blue-shirted volunteers from the area shouting commands over the madding crowd; it had to be organized or the scene could have made the battle at Gettysburg look like child's play.

Much of my time in line I spent talking to the couples in front and behind me; the former from a town close to the Florida line with four framed oriental-looking prints that had been her grandmother's, the latter from Illinois with, among other items, a vase recently purchased on eBay, which I am sure I saw on sale in Family Dollar stores a few years back.... What did I have? Two easy-to-handle items: a scarab signet ring which has been bouncing around the family for a few years and for which I had paid less than $10 and three little Chinese oils on (hoped-for) ivory sheets, for which I had paid thirty cents in a charity thrift store close to twenty years back.

Space here does not allow me to draw a full picture of the slow progression of the assortment of people and transport methods: all ages and colors pulling little red wagons or homemade wheeled platforms or dragging boxes. One elderly couple were pushing something that looked like a pop-up stretcher from an ambulance with a table on it. Each person was limited to two items, but whole families were lined up with loads that looked as though they were moving house.

Eventually I got to my first appraiser, an Asian Art expert. My Chinese oils (1880-1900) were on a special kind of paper made to look like ivory sheets for the Western market, worth about $20 "as is," around $100 if re-matted, reframed, and one corner better repaired. Such a process well done would cost $150 or more so he suggested that I enjoy the trio "as is."

Another long line took me to the Jewelry appraiser, an elderly man who was wearing an original ancient Egyptian scarab signet ring, about which he had much to say. Mine, however, he said, was around eighty years old, made of silver intended to look like gold, and was worth about $50. A reasonable profit, but not enough to send me from the building exulting.

In fact, a little after 4 pm the line of humanity wandering out, whether from exhaustion or disappointment, was a sad reversal of the exuberant line still marching in! If many fortunes were made, I guess they were kept quiet for the airing of the show next year, scheduled for February if I understood correctly.

Interestingly the happiest voice I heard all day happened as I was entering the Center a bit after 11am A departing young lady was obviously happy with her appraisals; then I heard her say she was from Turtletown. I turned back quickly and tried to identify her, but the group was out of the door and I never actually saw her.

If any Polk Contains were there and are willing to share their experience (good or bad) --especially the pleasant-sounding young lady from Turtletown --, I would be happy to pass it on through this column. Just tell me about it on nowandthenbhm@msn.com or 423-752-8183 (the voicemail is now intact, but all previous messages were lost) or by mail at Apt. 4-B, 300 W. 6th St., Chattanooga 37402.