Thirteen Symptoms That May Or May Not Mean I Am A Collector

Sometimes I don’t think I’ve a very good collector. There. I’ve said it.

While I have sagging shelves, buckling record bins, cluttered horizontal surfaces, boxes of ephemera, and general piles of stuff, I sometimes get the feeling I’m not a real collector. But maybe I’m just feeling neurotic… I tell you what; I’ll list all my symptoms, and then you tell me if I’m a collector or not. (And if I’m not a collector, maybe you can tell me what I am?)

Thirteen Symptoms That May Or May Not Mean I Am A Collector

1. As I said, I have sagging shelves, buckling record bins, cluttered horizontal surfaces, boxes of ephemera, and general piles of stuff; some of it was purchased with specific intent (i.e. on a list or at least within an actual defined category).

2. As I can (and do!) throw out lids to Cool-Whip bowls, used tinfoil, broken rubber bands, coupons that have expired, etc., I no longer worry I am a hoarder.

3. I devote most all of my free time with my “collectibles.” I read the texts, listen to the audio, & spend hours, days (weeks?) obsessively researching objects, places & people connected to them — no matter how small & obscure the tangents.

4. And then I write about it. Exhibit A: Riding a toy train into Death Valley to meet Native Americans & interred Japanese Americans being photographed by Ansel Adams.)

5. I know of and understand collectible grading systems; but, like square roots, it is meaningless math to me. This is to say that I appreciate value in terms of conditions (and therefore completely believe in inspecting items & sellers’ honest descriptions) — but, for example, when some vintage magazine tickles my fancy, I don’t care so much about a few holes in the old paper. (If you’re looking for some grading guides, see this one for vintage magazines & this one for vinyl records.)

6. I take a deliciously perverse delight in not paying the price marked on stickers and tags; I also will pay a ridiculous amount for something I’ve never seen before, just so I can look at it longer. After negotiating a score (or either variety), I brag about it. Endlessly.

7. And then I’ll write about it.

8. I am perplexed, if not actually saddened, when I hear that a person does not collect anything.

9. I fall in love with the stories about things as much as the things themselves. This includes, but is not limited to, discovering something new (especially if it’s old), the passion a collector has for their collection (or the pursuit thereof), even typos and oddly phrased stories.

1951 Elephant Collection Article

Exhibit A: This short article from the March 1951 issue of Profitable Hobbies Magazine about Mrs. Alta White of San Lorenzo, California, who collects elephants which reads, “Today her whatnot is full of them.” A lady with a whatnot full of elephants?! In 1951 yet!

10. Often, I’m so charmed by the stories, I covet am inspired to start collecting those things myself.

Exhibit A: Once I stopped laughing over Alta’s article, I briefly considered collecting elephants simply for the joy of recalling “her whatnot full of elephants.” Further fuel to that fire was considering the delight in exclaiming with each elephant acquisition, “Another elephant to squeeze into my whatnot!” (Typing that, elephants remain a collecting possibility.)

11. Sometimes, I’m so oddly charmed & amused by these things, that I’ll nearly pee my pants laughing so hard.

12. And then I write about it.

13. Due to all of the above (plus the basics, such as spending time with family, eating, buying toilet paper because I’ve been eating, etc.), I spend virtually no time dusting my collectibles. (Plus, I believe that dust is a protective patina.)

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