A Plague of Collections

Like many children of my generation, I was encouraged to start collecting something, preferably coins or stamps. Since my sister collected stamps, I leaned towards coins. My aunt and uncle obligingly started me off with a set of foreign coins, including a mint set of South African ones. But other than amassing a large set of pennies and saving a handful of change from my travels (prior to the Euro)), that hobby never took off. 

At some point in adulthood, the same aunt gave me a Victorian bell, and since my name is Belle, that one object prompted me to collect bells made from different materials and from different places. But I didn’t have shelves of antique dolls or expensive porcelain figurines that I sought out and bought or asked to be given as presents, so I never thought of myself as a collector per se. 

Until I started downsizing….. 

In childhood, my real passion was miniatures—I both bought and made small versions of things, including producing some books with the tiniest print you’ve ever seen! One year, I made replicas of all my bedroom furniture in balsa wood. Of course, the good thing about miniatures is that they don’t take up much room….unless you have a lot of them. 

Around that time, I picked up shells from a vacation to the Jersey shore, and with each successive beach trip, I added to my stash.   

As a teenager, I started my record collection, in the days when only vinyl prevailed. Over the years, as my tastes changed, I dutifully added to this collection. And now, vinyl is once again king, even though I rarely take the time to put a record on the turntable. 

When I traveled around the world in my late 20s, I found Coke bottles with the lettering in different alphabets. A small collection, to be sure, but a collection, nevertheless. 

For awhile as an adult, I was a hound for books signed by their authors (or people associated with the book, such as through a film), and I waited in many a line to personally gather these autographs. So many hours of time devoted to this activity. It’s hard to part with them, even though I haven’t read at least half. Gloria Steinem, Buckminster Fuller, Jimmy Carter, John Travolta, Goldie Hawn, Lauren Bacall, John Lewis—and those are just the well-known ones! 

Before my sister passed away, we both began collections of those small stuffed beany babies that were so popular 20 years ago. Mine started with a flamingo, the symbol of my current home. They are not the “collector items” they were touted to be, but for me, they are laden with sentiment. 

Over a lifetime, I kept all the birthday cards ever given to me, all the postcards, and all the letters. I kept all the papers I ever wrote in school, college, and graduate school. I kept all the report cards, all the programs from events I’d attended, all the maps and memorabilia from all the places I’d ever traveled, and all the artwork I produced in every adult ed class I’d taken (except for more recent work that I’ve managed to sell). I also kept newspapers and magazines that covered headline events, from the first American space flight, to the various assassinations of the 1960s, to the change of the millennium. So, if that’s not the definition of a collector, I don’t know what is. 

What does one do with one’s personally curated collections? Here are some questions to ask yourself and some possible approaches: 

• Do you care about the collection the way you once did? Is your sentiment attached more to how the collection came about (e.g. someone you care about started it for you) than to the items themselves? If it doesn’t currently bring you joy, release yourself! Although my coins represent my travels, I have other representations of my travels that mean more.
• Will one or two items from the collection satisfy you? Sometimes when a collection isn’t intentional (my collection of small containers), I am ready to say goodbye to most of my beany babies, except for a few of the monkeys.
• Can the needs that the collection represents be met in some other way? Obviously, the music of my vinyl collection is available through other sources that take up less or no room, like streaming.
• Will it be enough to save representations of the items in your collection, through photos or scans, or composite means (like memory collages/scrapbook pages)? As I’ve discussed in detail in other posts, most meaningful paper items can be saved in other ways.
• Will telling the stories of the collections satisfy the emotional need behind hanging onto them? I’ve talked about the importance of stories behind objects—the same goes for the stories behind the collections. How did it come about? Where did the various pieces come from? What is special about each one?
• Can you make any money by selling your collection, or if not, will someone else want it? Personally, I always find it easier to let go of something if I think it will go to a good home. However, do not expect that the collection that may have cost you a lot over time will be worth anything today. But there are exceptions, and it’s always worth the research. That being said, if you are willing to give your collection away, there is probably someone out there who will want it. Several boxes of shells, anyone?

After my own deliberations, I’ve decided to hang onto my bell collection in its entirety, as it does bring me joy!