School for Burglars

My friend and kids' neighbor, Sherry, had her house broken into a couple of months ago. Sherry and I share a love of all things beaded and, coincidentally, of jewelry. Sherry has lots of beautiful beaded pieces she's collected or made, and she has a lovely collection of silver and gold jewelry that's she's acquired on various trips, both domestic and abroad. I always love seeing how she accessorizes her wardrobe. She has exquisite taste.

As the burglars were brazen enough to disable the alarm system before entering, they had plenty of time to root through the belongings in the house. They found Sherry's jewelry storage location, and carefully chose what they wanted. Silver and gold? Out the door. Beads? Colored stones? Not so much. They didn't waste their time on all the beautiful pieces that Sherry had meticulously handcrafted. They didn't bother with the wonderful artisan pieces with fabulous beads that she had collected. They only wanted the silver and gold jewelry.

That made me start wondering how burglars know what's good—what to take and what to skip. Does an entry-level burglar have to burgle 100 houses and attempt to unload his takings at several venues before he knows what will sell? Is there an apprenticeship one must complete to gain this knowledge. Is there a school for burglars in a deep, dark basement somewhere?

And where on earth does he sell it? I would think you can't exactly walk into a pawn shop and say, "Yo, Bro, I got 15 pairs of silver earrings and one gold necklace here. What'll you give me for 'em."

And what about electronics and other household furnishings. When is the aggravation of trying to get something out the door greater than the promise of income for selling it? And how does one learn to make that comparison?

If a burglar broke into my house, he would be sorely disappointed. My televisions are 15 and 20 years old. I don't own a DVD player and my VCR player is built into the television. My jewelry? All beaded pieces. I sold all the good stuff to come up with the money to sell my Tucson houses last year. Actually, for someone of my age who has traveled the roads I've traveled in life, I have surprisingly little to show for it.

But y'know what? The less you have—the simpler your life—the easier it is to dismantle things when it's time to go.

(Yeah, okay, can you tell we're again going through Mother's stuff trying to narrow down her possessions? Molly is in the mountains with her, and sorted through 400 pieces of clothing on Tuesday. 400! You wonder where I got my clothes habit? Wonder no more!)