What Do You Collect?

I’m a collector.  I refuse to call it ‘hoarding’.  It isn’t ‘hoarding’, is it, if you only keep things that have meaning?  Is it?  I don’t think so.  I mean, I don’t keep gum wrappers, or worn-out sheets, or broken appliances…

I think the collecting began when my husband’s grandmother gave him her Jewel Tea coffee percolator and four matching mugs.  They were all wrapped up in precious memories for him and we were soon scouring flea markets and farm and estate sales for Jewel Tea dishes.  We found all sorts of things and it wasn’t long before the collecting bug bit me, as well!

I began my collections after I realized that some of the dishes my grandmother had given me were, in fact, depression glass.  I researched and picked out a pattern I liked.  It wasn’t until after I had fallen in love with the chosen one that I realized how expensive some of the pieces are.  Some are incredibly rare and, therefore, fetch a premium price.  There is a reason some depression pieces are rare.  Firstly, the companies didn’t make very many ‘specialty’ pieces.  Secondly, depression glass was cheaply made and not of a very high quality.  Therefore, it broke easily with daily use.  

Over the years, I branched out to other treasures and became quite obsessive with my collecting.  My youngest son, who I could always count on to be brutally honest, once said to me (as I was unpacking my loot!), “Mom, don’t you think you have enough baskets?”  He gave me that look that told me an intervention might be coming…

When I downsized to a much smaller house, I took a deep breath and began doling out to my kids some of the things that they had always told me they wanted.  Certain pieces of furniture, my husband’s collection of shot glasses, the bedroom furniture they had grown up with.  

I stopped collecting years ago.  I am surrounded by things I love, and which remind me of all the good times I had collecting them.  They don’t mean much to anyone but me, now.  And that’s okay.  They bring me pleasure. I realize that most of my things – things I cannot yet bear to part with and that only I know the value of– will someday be boxed up and sent to a resale shop.  Or sold in a garage sale.  Or thrown into the landfill.  That’s okay, too.  I don’t expect my children or grandchildren to set up memorials to me and live with things just because they were mine.  I expect them to live their own lives, collect their own things, and make their own memories.  Hopefully, I will be a pleasant memory.

Nor do I wander about my house reliving past experiences.  I do things, I go places, I enjoy my life and my friends and my family.  There are still so many things on my bucket list that are yet to be experienced.  I can’t wait for the next adventure!  But, as I go, I will probably have something from one of my collections with me:  a bracelet given by a good friend, the first earrings my husband gave me after we were married, or a hat to shade my eyes or cover my messy hair.  And when I wear them, I’ll smile and remember…

In retrospect, perhaps I was wrong.  I am still a collector.  Maybe I’m a hoarder as well.  Mostly what I collect now are new memories!  And I hoard them up like there is no tomorrow.

Are you a collector?  What do you collect and what makes that thing special to you?