We were headed out to the cabin one Saturday morning, winding through the quiet roads near Sawyer, Oklahoma, when a simple green sign caught our eye. It was posted at the corner of a weathered storage lot — “Storage Sale Today.” Around here, sales like that are few and far between, so of course, we turned in for a look.
Most of the items were in rough shape, having spent too much time exposed to the humid southeastern Oklahoma air. Cardboard boxes sagged with moisture, and rust seemed to cover nearly everything metal. Still, I’ve learned to take my time — treasures sometimes hide beneath the dust and decay.
As I was sifting through one particularly grimy box, my fingers brushed against a narrow, rectangular object. I pulled it out and found myself face to face with a wall-hanging mercury thermometer. It was rusty, covered in thick dust, but I instantly loved it. At the top, printed in a bold, simple font, were the words: “Skywatchers Satellite Sales & Service – Ft. Towson, Oklahoma.”
That name alone made it worth the $2 asking price. Robert and I are both big weather fans — always keeping one eye on the sky — so the word Skywatcher just sang to me. It felt like a little wink from the past, from one skywatcherto another.
At the bottom of the thermometer, printed in smaller letters, was the name Jack Grimmett. Likely the salesman who handed these out decades ago — a practical form of advertising from a time when every home needed a good thermometer hanging on the porch.
When I got it home, I gently washed away the years of grime. I left the rust intact — its spotty presence tells part of the story. I had no intention of restoring it to look new. Some things are better left aged.
Curious about the business and its backstory, I did a quick internet search. Nothing came up for Skywatchers Satellite Sales & Service. I added Jack’s name… still no luck. But I wasn’t ready to let it go — I love finding the story behind forgotten objects. So I tried one last search: Jack Grimmett, Ft. Towson, Oklahoma.
That did it. The first result was his obituary. Jack passed away in 2015 at the age of 82.
It felt bittersweet, learning that. But then I found something more uplifting — a piece on a site called Farm Show featuring Jack and an invention he’d come up with: a mini goat-milking machine. That was all it took. A fuller picture began to form in my mind — a resourceful, creative man, clearly a business owner, and from the words shared in his obituary, a loving family man, too.
It’s funny how a rusty old thermometer picked up at a storage sale can become a window into someone’s life. Jack Grimmett may not have left much of a digital trail, but a small promotional item he created decades ago still has a story to tell.
And now it hangs proudly at our cabin, reminding us that every object, no matter how worn or forgotten, once belonged to someone with dreams, ideas, and a life worth remembering.
Blessings to the Grimmett family — and thank you, Jack, for watching the skies.
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Here’s the article I found about the mini-goat milker at Farm Show.com
Inexpensive Goat Milker Saves Aching Hands (2008) Jack Grimmett built a mini goat milker for less than $10 from off-the-shelf parts. The Ft. Towson, Okla., man says the main component is a hand-operated fuel transfer pump available at most discount stores.
“The pump comes with all the hoses needed,” Grimmett says. He connected the discharge end to the lid of a 1 1/2-gal. bleach jug, which holds the milk. Another hose connects to a 60cc syringe placed on the goat’s teat to draw the milk. “The hardest thing is to find the long- neck syringe. You need that size because it’s the perfect size for goat teats and the hose fits it,” Grimmett says.