Dylan Brogan
Bikes for sale at the Tenney-Lapham Yard Sale.
A ‘better organized, more curated version’ of Hippie Chistmas: the annual Tenney-Lapham Yard Sale.
The Tenney-Lapham Yard Sale is underway and treasure hunters from all over Madison are scouring the neighborhood looking for deals. The annual event covers households from the Yahara River to Blair Street north of East Washington Avenue. The 400 block of Few Street is particularly active, with front lawns transformed into open air marketplaces.
Most are selling furniture, small household appliances, exercise equipment, maybe a few items of clothing. Everyone seems to have a crockpot they are looking to unload. Some neighbors are just giving away houseplants. The scene looks like a better organized, curated version of Hippie Christmas with more haggling and higher prices.
For decades, my parents Joe and Kathy have participated in the event outside their Few Street home. Kathy lovingly describes what they’re selling as “crap we don’t need.” Joe has a different take.
“Once again, your mother is getting rid of all my prized possessions,” he says. “All my stuff keeps disappearing.”
Chali Pittman
Joe Brogan with a ukulele.
Destined for the closet? Joe falls for a ukelele.
It’s an annual dance. In late summer, Kathy gathers under-utilized items from the attic, basement and garage. This hodgepodge is assembled on folding tables set up in the driveway on the day of the sale. Every year, Joe unsuccessfully makes a fuss about this exercise in decluttering.
“Objects should be used, not stored,” Kathy responds. “You didn’t even know this stuff existed.”
“I know it’s all good stuff. That’s all anyone needs to know,” says Joe, shifting his attention to me. “Can you believe she’s getting rid of my bike? My bike! How will I tool around town?”
“I found that bike in the trash and you’ve never ridden it,” says Kathy.
Joe can only laugh at this statement of fact. Bested but undeterred, he’s aghast when my mom asks that I haul up a stuffed chair from the basement.
“It’s a beautiful chair that’s perfect for my reading nook,” explains Joe, who has no such nook. He does confess he’s only sat in it once “to get a feel for it.”
When someone purchases a heavy cast iron pan that’s been collecting dust, Joe declares, “There goes one helluva pan.”
Despite his grumblings and sneaking a few things back into the house when Kathy isn’t looking, Joe genuinely enjoys the Tenney-Lapham yard sale. He loves to catch up with neighbors, chit- chat with strangers, and encourage small children to abscond with whatever captures their attention. Kathy is all business.
“My goal for the yard sale is to get rid of stuff,” she says. “He complains a lot but your dad, in general, is usually helpful.”
Some of that help includes acquiring new items for future yard sales. While we walk around the block to see what the neighbors are selling, Joe tells me about his big find last year.
“A gorgeous looking, miniature guitar. After I master the harmonica, I can’t wait to strum it,” says Joe about a child-size six-string which lives in his closet.
Joe’s ambition to learn an instrument through osmosis is admirable. He doesn’t see his lack of musical talent or follow-through as a problem. A few beats later, he spots a ukulele at a neighbor’s sale on Sidney Street.
“It only has four strings — 20% less complicated!” says Joe, before promptly shelling out 10 bucks for the instrument.
“What about the guitar?” I ask.
“Are you interested? I’ll give it to you if you promise to play me a song,” he says.
By noon it was unpleasantly hot and we start to pack up the remaining inventory. Kathy isn’t sure whether they’ll carry on the yard sale tradition next summer. “We might. I could change my mind,” she says.
“What about my stuff disappearing?” asks Joe.
Kathy answers, “More of it will disappear.”
Kathy’s 2025 yard sale profit: $41
Yard sale selling prices:
Joe’s bike: $10
Heavy cast iron pan: $10
Stuffed chair: Free to a neighbor
Ukulele: $10
The most notable Brogan family yard sale purchase:
A late ‘70s model, 15-foot Sea Sprite motorboat that made just two memorable journeys on Lake Mendota, but served as a beloved play fort for son Lucas.
