Some people like to collect things.
For instance, they might collect decorative salt and pepper shakers, or old license plates, or a souvenir plate from every state they have visited. I guess they like to look at them and admire them from time to time. Maybe they think their mementoes will become valuable in time—like stamps or rare coins.
I just collect dust. Or, should I say, my house collects dust. I don’t admire it and I try to get rid of it, but it keeps coming back.
I collect my Sunny Lane stories, too. In fact, I’m putting them all together into a book and you will be able to read them again soon.
Sweetheart and I have been to auctions and seen collections of people who have passed to the Other Side. I hope they got lots of pleasure from admiring them, because, if someone told them they would be valuable some day, they were wrong.
I have seen beautiful doll collections that the auctioneer could not give away, let alone sell. Some glassware was sold at a pittance of what it was worth.
My sister-in-law collected bells. She had a curio cabinet that was full of them. She must have had, at least, 50 bells. When people came to visit, they would stop and look at them as they returned from the bathroom.
If she saw them looking at them, she would come and join in. She would explain the unique qualities of each one and where and how she got it. She might even tell the person how much she paid for it, if it was expensive. Or what a bargain it might have been.
After my sister-in-law passed on and my brother went to an assisted-care living home, the family auctioned off his house and its contents. All 50 bells sold for $2.00. I’m glad she wasn’t here to see that. (Or was she?)
When my younger son was in Little League, he collected baseball cards. He kept them in a cardboard box that had once held cheese.
He would add cards of new, famous players from time to time. Sometimes, he would take them out of the box and sort them. Occasionally, he would trade with some of his buddies.
He would tell me how much certain cards were worth. He would tell me how much the whole box was worth. When he became a teenager, however, his interests changed.
One day, he came running into the house, said he needed some money, and ran out with his baseball collection. He sold it for a fraction of what he said it was worth.
So, it seems that collections only have value in a person’s imagination and only for as long as they’re in his/her possession. You either have the stuff or you have the money.
If you want to collect something that doesn’t lose its value, maybe we should concentrate on collecting friends, or fond memories, or good deeds. That is something that is priceless and doesn’t lose its value.