Private Collections

artwork by Danny, Age 8

Ronald MacDonald House

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A beautiful coincidence. I had decided to write about people's collecting habits when I came across a book by Durham, NC writer Haven Kimmel called The Used World. I wondered about the title and soon discovered its setting is the Used World Emporium full of furniture, vintage clothes and best of all, a writer's eye for catching me by the throat with just a sentence. Anyone who has ever watched the hoarders program on A&E knows there is a big difference between collecting and accumulating. The darling figurines in the Red Rose tea bag boxes are collector's items. The plastic wrap is not. What people choose to collect is fascinating. I had a rich friend who only collected statuary that was no more than one of five on the planet. She had documentation to prove it. My maternal grandfather collected wooden elephants. He wasn't a Republican; he just liked elephants. He hadn't see one in real life and there were none around to purchase so he whittled them himself. I'm like him with my collection of small wooden camels and giraffes. I haven't tried whittling yet but wouldn't be surprised if that gene popped up should I try. I think I was programmed to collect teddy bears and practice Liszt for hours on end as my first and only childhood teddy had a music box inside him which cheerfully cranked out Liszt's Mephisto Waltz #3. In subsequent years, I was given several music boxes; my favorite had a poignant version of "Deep in December...follow, follow," when it wound down, slowly dwindling like September itself. There was a waterwheel music box I took to kindergarten music days and made up words for the children to sing along, "Oh, this is the tune that the waterwheel sings, tra la. The wheel goes around and the doors open wide. The little man smiles at his dear little bride. Tra la la la la la." Then came a description of the couple venturing out, returning by a back door. Given the chance I would have collected cuckoo clocks. One day at school, I took all the boxes and started them to hear all together. Enchantment. Over the years, all the boxes were given away and only one teddy remains. I sewed an angel scarf for her (with a ruffle, of course). She came with a tee, "Someone in San Francisco loves me." I call her, "The Greeter" as she sits at the entrance to the Shire. A friend at the Eureka senior center liked frogs so much, they became part of her e-mail address. Another friend found a love of angels when someone slipped an angel pin into a birthday card and now she has around 350. Perhaps constructing a wayside chapel is in her future. Some friends have extensive libraries; others are partial to orchids in greenhouses, antique cars, and harmonicas. The tender loving care expended is a tribute to the appeal of inanimate objects and natural world companions. I particularly like collections which reflect an owner's taste rather than the urge to impress. I knew a man who worked all his life on a train set in his garage, a good blend of passion and desire to share. The origin of our obsession would be good research material, would it not? I think we collect to remind ourselves that we were here on this earth; we mattered. It's a need for a past.

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...may the blessings of good things and the pleasant surroundings therein be yours...