T’s Antiques


Let’s fall in love with Holly Hobby all over again, except this time we’ll call her Theresa Pollock.

Her colorful outfit reflects her personality

The first day I ever walked into T’s Antiques in Downtown Newberg, I thought I had just stepped in front of a mirror. There stood this spunky gal wearing denim overalls and her hair up in a ‘We Can Do It” bandana twist. Low and behold, I am wearing the same thing, my typical summer garb. We looked up and down and laughed for a moment, already knowing we could spin an easy convo. I was immediately honored to meet the owner of this new storefront and felt right at home.

Theresa’s enthusiasm for life in general permeates the walls and that deep cosmic sparkle in her Black Beauty eyes is beyond welcoming.

Sender and Theresa share a giggle about Gumby

Today, I am visiting to showcase the incredible masterpiece of a shop that Theresa and her workmanship-genius husband Donnie have created. It’s a got an industrial-hip vibe quilted in small-town cozy, with all the goodies of the past neatly tucked, stowed, and displayed in an easy-breathe fashion.

The low corrugated metal pony walls and cattle fence hangers bring a distinct order to the usually expectant world of antique chaos. It’s a brilliant design.

Every time I venture through “The Neverending Story” front door of T’s Antiques, I find just what it was I needed with batteries for a friendly smile included.

A Pinball Machine

I wander the main market floor corridor physically noting plenty of room while losing myself in vintage value.

Coordinated colors splash off the walls.


Famous faces of long ago gaze among patina patterns.

This museum quality experience certainly sets a true pedestal for the “Queen Anne’s” of the auction.

This gorgeous room is changed in it’s entirety every month!


The Vintage Curator herself. Keep an eye out for her branded bread truck as she scours the grape strewn hills and flats of the  Willamette Valley Wine Country for these time capturing treasures…

Have no fear gents, the doilies are completely balanced out by an industrial buffet of masculinity setting the overall tone of this retro-revival renaissance of a shop. Tools, nautical metal, and snuffboxes abound in the sailor’s ocean of the modern “Man-Cave”.

“Blair Witchy” Steamer Trunk

My Grandfather had this set

Donnie has made steady contributions of classic, ornamental car-hood art, vintage male-motif signs, and incredibly purposeful industrial style light fixtures, with all parts authentically up-cycled. His cultivated background in auto-body repair and welding, poignantly add depth to his art. Here lies a true sampling of the American Breadbasket, a slice of something for everyone.

The Cubby Hall to the right of the entrance leaves everything to the imagination. I become a 5-year-old, enveloped in the wonder of the odd and the unique.

Gumby now lives in Sender’s room

Here I immerse for an hour, in the quiet, taking in the smallest details of artistry from hands that lived during a different perspective of life. One I can only read about in a first edition or in that happenstance of an old wrinkled man with a story to tell, and I do stop for those cherished moments of real history, no media involved.

These shelves hold stories I can create in my mind’s eye. They glitter with a child’s memories, a grandmother’s craft.

The handle of an incredibly long shoehorn.

Each piece carries the vibration of its significant use from some household long ago, some nostalgic farm.

A place to weigh your dozen donuts or steaks!

Who enjoyed the breeze of that General Electric fan? Who opened that Barbie for Christmas in a lifetime since forgotten?

Who will be the next worthy keeper of these obscurities to pass them on to our young ones as living history?

Sender looks as if to say “Will it be you?”

I believe it’s all of us, I believe in the Jacobean* magic.


* The characteristics of Jacobean furniture was that the furniture was usually large in sizing, was made to be sturdy and was certainly made to last a long time.

The Crystal Crossroads

A tumbled stone does it not lack. Dressed in black, to the right of my palm, I hear the steady shuffle of the Tarot, as I traverse the glass gate of The Crystal Crossroads. This is yet another precious stone of a storefront that Downtown Newberg has to offer the careful wanderer, the dweller, and the steadfast seeker.

De the owner and adornment artisan of the abundant wall of wrapped and gathered stones lining the shop, greets me warmly. She stands in calm grace and humble pride of her majestic boutique, as I move toward her engaged already in pleasant conversation.

She tells me of her days in the open-air markets and of the interesting folk she met during those journeys. Her dream of a storefront is now reality. Her creative passion is seen in aura around her many hand-crafted works of gorgeous jewelry made of earths bounty, of man’s glass, of crystal and copper. I dwell in awe of these ornamental works of art that at the flick of a will, I could own and adorn.

Flitting about the room as a faery, I view the seemingly limitless cube-like wooden bowls pleasantly lain in rows. The in-house tumbled rocks of earthen power shine and glitter in a chakra rainbow of magnificent stillness. I become still. I observe. I shutter the camera at the flecks of light. Between here and there in magnetic realm, I witness their magic.

The locked powers within healing stones I cannot pretend to grasp. I do not have the education, the inherent knowledge, yet I believe and behold their beauty in tangible and material mass. I only possess books on crystals that I have yet to make the time to read.

Geodes abound and light-filtering crystals keep me in polarized suspense. The visible sacred geometry never ceases to peel back my blinded eyes. Behold creation in its minutest aspects.

The immensity of the spark of life is felt much closer when surrounded by the treasures of the macrocosm.

Tibetan singing bowls, Ganesh, and the sacred symbol of Aum dwell here in imagery to remind of us of our global human hood. The connection we all share within our own individual understanding.

Reawakening back to my photography within these clairsentient walls, I become consumer again and am thankful I can find a favorite brand of incense in sandalwood, a prescribed Ayurvedic remedy for myself.

From sage to divination tools, the wonders of the realm of terra firma and celestial possibilities always grab my innate attention.

Mortars and pestles of varying sizes for herbal remedies and many helpful reads, remind me again of the vast remedies of wellness available to our spiraling DNA bodies of supernatural origin.

I find a deep and known comfort in the abundance of natural option.

Years ago, I was wandering Venice Beach in L.A. during a summer with a good Hawaiian friend. Across the vibrating crowd of tourists and weirdo locals, this tiny women of a seemingly Southeast Asian heritage, abruptly approached me. She grabbed my wrist and started studying my opened and stunned hand. I was simply in wonder and surprise. In what seemed to be an instantaneous moment in time, she stepped back with a look of fear and mentioned my “life-line”. She clutched and looked again. She somehow whispered above the California-bazaar din some sort of mystical knowledge and stepped away.

You would think I would recall what she said. It was profound. It changed me. I’ll never forget the moment, but I cannot exactly recall what she said to this day. It was more her expressions and her sincerity that imprinted within my young being. My friend and I looked upon each other in astonishment and toddled off in wonder.

I share this story because to this day I always wondered what it was she saw. So, I picked up a little palmistry kit sitting on the shelf near the back of The Crystal Crossroads. It has a handy little quick reference book of the ancient art. I don’t intend to make a life study of it, but I will add it to my collection of esoteric considerations, and it  has a cool little hand. Fascinating.

I have a date with Elysia for a tarot reading. She is my friend that I met around town here in Newberg. A delightful young lady with an amazing sense of self, so very much “beyond her years” with a cornucopia of collected wisdom. I greatly admire her strength and confidence, yet her intuitive flare is what really draws me to friendship with her. She cordially invited to guide me through a tarot reading today, as she visits and shares in the quiet and comfortable corner of this Metaphysical Emporium.

I sit having no idea what to expect. I’ve never had a tarot reading. I joked with De about finding a place to lie down if I found myself in an uncontrollable emotional state afterwards, perhaps requiring some quiet time in the fetal position under her rock table. She sweetly giggled and assured me I would be just fine.

FaceBook Page Events /The Crystal Crossroads

Sitting with Elysia, I was a bit nervous but trying to seem chill. Allowing myself to be the least bit vulnerable in emotion is quite the challenge for me. I’m always enthusiastic for an opportunity to delve into the inner brawn of the cogs of myself for answers, I just don’t always get thrilled in finding the extent of work to be done.

Her graceful hands shuffle the deck. I shuffle. She shuffles.

The cards flip in an awesome pattern face up before me. Images of staffs and struggles and representations of subconscious battles and triumphs fill my sight. I’m intrigued. I listen. I think. I speak. I look at goals. I look at passions. I leave with a strong sense of where I have been and what I have accomplished. What I have yet to accomplish. I’m happy for validating conscious thoughts. I’m intuitively sparked in the subconscious. I have just experienced a very pleasant and non-invasive guidance in self-assessment. The experience somehow organized my many thoughts into a clearer storyboard.

Overall? Two thumbs up for lack of a better universal rating.

I say my P’s and Q’s and goodbyes. I’m inspired by the line of people waiting to chat with De about her goods and tap her gathered wisdom of her wares.

As I leave, two fashionably casual and modestly dressed ladies comment to me with a subtle sigh that they never wish to leave this new hangout.

I’ll be coming back on the regular for our own household needs in varied gifts and incense. I’m jubilant this hole of a genre has been filled within our enchanting little downtown.







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