Have you ever paused to think about the things to which you ascribe value? I think an interesting way to approach this question is to consider what we collect. In one way or another we are all collectors of some sort, often without even knowing it. There are the obvious collectables like stamps, coins, etc. I know that in my youth I collected stamps. As it turns out the stamps weren’t all that important to me and, upon reflection, I realize that I mostly enjoyed sharing the time and interest with my step dad. He would probably say the same thing because we have a lot of fond memories of buying, organizing and generally messing around with stamps. I think it was kind of a rainy Saturday pastime because, even as a distracted middle-aged adult, rainy days still make me think about sitting around the dining room table in my childhood home with my step dad. I would venture to say the best hobbies and collections are those that revolve around relationships.
To get back on task, I wonder what you collect. I love books, but only have about one shelf worth that I really care about. Some folks collect books rabidly. Books are a good thing, but they are meant to be read and many people collect them for decoration rather than their historical or intellectual value. I know someone who collects matchbooks, which at least have location names on them that can associate them with memories. Lots of folks collect pictures. Especially since the advent of digital photography in the past 10 years, there is a lot more to do with our photos. Again, I appreciate that photos are also wrapped up with memories and history. I have known a couple of people, though, for whom the obsession with the photos at times eclipsed the loved ones they represented. Garage people collect tools. Kitchen people collect the assorted appliances and utensils of their passion. Garden people, in their own way, collect plants and flowers. Art people collect various paintings and other mediums. Some have a bent towards sports memorabilia. All these are fine passions and have the potential to be finer still if we employ them for the service and encouragement of others.
Keep in mind also that, at least to mind, what qualifies one as a collector is not the quantity of objects, but their passion for, and commitment to, those objects. I’ve known families who had only two cars, yet they were so passionate and meticulous about those particular cars that I’d call them collectors. Let us also consider that there are even some people who collect other people. They are not slave owners, mind you, but they are so conscious of the number and quality of their relationships, as well as the enjoyment and pursuit thereof, that I’d definitely categorize them as collectors. So you see, there are many ways to approach this concept.
And what about me? Definitely not the cars, but maybe the people. My stamps have been in a box in the garage for a couple of decades. I do collect obscure, old, and unusual post cards. However, I do so only for the purpose of mailing them to others as part of my own correspondence. The only thing I really collect on an ongoing basis is rocks. No, I’m not a geology buff. I just pick up rocks when I travel that represent particular memories or events. They aren’t large, nor are there all that many. Nonetheless, I have bowl of rocks on my desk at work filled with my favorite rocks. I tend to pick up interesting ones that have a flat side, which allows me to write the date and the name of the place on them. What, might you ask, makes a worthy rock for my coveted bowl? Here are a few examples:
· I have a rock from climbing to the top of Mt. Whitney
· One from each of my children’s universities
· One from walking on the beach with my dear wife
· Some from several national parks of particular interest
· My dear friend brought me one from Babylon during the 2nd Gulf War
· I have a tiny sea urchin from snorkeling with my daughter (OK, not a rock)
· A strange looking rock from my son’s new back yard
· Quite a few from assorted vacations
· My wife visited Sri Lanka right after the tsunami and brought me some rubble
· A piece of a crumbling wall in a French country village
· A worthless rock from a gold mine my father-in-law visited (family joke)
· One from the central coast beach where my bride and I fell in love
· A brick from a forgotten town in Arizona named after my great, great grandfather
· Another brick from the home we lived in when we first married (now destroyed)
· A piece of petrified wood from a favorite mesa in Utah
Well, I think you get the point. And what is actual cash value of my complete rock collection? It probably tallies up at about nine cents. However, they are priceless to me because the rocks tell the story of my life, or at least the high points of my life. They show where I spent my leisure time, where we took our family vacations, and also where I generally wrote a poem to accompany the memory. These are not just stones, but touchstones that catalogue my travels. They are like the products of an archeological dig which give clues to where I went, how I lived, why those memories matter, and who I shared them with. Anyway, that’s why I collect rocks. And I’m certainly not advocating that anyone else should, but it works for me.
As you perhaps review your own tendency to collect, I hope I may have opened a window of perspective for you. Enjoy your own passion, and don’t forget to share it with others and explain to your loved ones why you collect things and what they mean to you.
Rocks
You never know what folks will value
And when I pause to recollect
The list is nearly endless
Of the thing that we collect
From plethora of tourist trinkets
Stuffed animals and guns
To works of art and cars, I guess
There is something for everyone
I know a fellow who saves matchbooks
Some coins or stamps or swizzle sticks
Antique, retro, modern
Really, you can take your pick
Me, I’ve got a thing for rocks
And wherever I may be
I pick up a rock along the way
Maybe even two or three
I write the date and locale on them
To recall the place to me
And each becomes a sort of bookmark
That represents a memory
I keep them in a bowl at home
Digging through them now and then
As they are tangible reminders
Which take me back again
To people and to places
Which, through the years I’ve known
And a host of moments that I
Cherish more than precious stones
These rocks have no commercial value
Yet, they’re priceless, don’t you see
For they catalogue my lifetime
And each contains a memory
By Frank Carpenter ©
To get back on task, I wonder what you collect. I love books, but only have about one shelf worth that I really care about. Some folks collect books rabidly. Books are a good thing, but they are meant to be read and many people collect them for decoration rather than their historical or intellectual value. I know someone who collects matchbooks, which at least have location names on them that can associate them with memories. Lots of folks collect pictures. Especially since the advent of digital photography in the past 10 years, there is a lot more to do with our photos. Again, I appreciate that photos are also wrapped up with memories and history. I have known a couple of people, though, for whom the obsession with the photos at times eclipsed the loved ones they represented. Garage people collect tools. Kitchen people collect the assorted appliances and utensils of their passion. Garden people, in their own way, collect plants and flowers. Art people collect various paintings and other mediums. Some have a bent towards sports memorabilia. All these are fine passions and have the potential to be finer still if we employ them for the service and encouragement of others.
Keep in mind also that, at least to mind, what qualifies one as a collector is not the quantity of objects, but their passion for, and commitment to, those objects. I’ve known families who had only two cars, yet they were so passionate and meticulous about those particular cars that I’d call them collectors. Let us also consider that there are even some people who collect other people. They are not slave owners, mind you, but they are so conscious of the number and quality of their relationships, as well as the enjoyment and pursuit thereof, that I’d definitely categorize them as collectors. So you see, there are many ways to approach this concept.
And what about me? Definitely not the cars, but maybe the people. My stamps have been in a box in the garage for a couple of decades. I do collect obscure, old, and unusual post cards. However, I do so only for the purpose of mailing them to others as part of my own correspondence. The only thing I really collect on an ongoing basis is rocks. No, I’m not a geology buff. I just pick up rocks when I travel that represent particular memories or events. They aren’t large, nor are there all that many. Nonetheless, I have bowl of rocks on my desk at work filled with my favorite rocks. I tend to pick up interesting ones that have a flat side, which allows me to write the date and the name of the place on them. What, might you ask, makes a worthy rock for my coveted bowl? Here are a few examples:
· I have a rock from climbing to the top of Mt. Whitney
· One from each of my children’s universities
· One from walking on the beach with my dear wife
· Some from several national parks of particular interest
· My dear friend brought me one from Babylon during the 2nd Gulf War
· I have a tiny sea urchin from snorkeling with my daughter (OK, not a rock)
· A strange looking rock from my son’s new back yard
· Quite a few from assorted vacations
· My wife visited Sri Lanka right after the tsunami and brought me some rubble
· A piece of a crumbling wall in a French country village
· A worthless rock from a gold mine my father-in-law visited (family joke)
· One from the central coast beach where my bride and I fell in love
· A brick from a forgotten town in Arizona named after my great, great grandfather
· Another brick from the home we lived in when we first married (now destroyed)
· A piece of petrified wood from a favorite mesa in Utah
Well, I think you get the point. And what is actual cash value of my complete rock collection? It probably tallies up at about nine cents. However, they are priceless to me because the rocks tell the story of my life, or at least the high points of my life. They show where I spent my leisure time, where we took our family vacations, and also where I generally wrote a poem to accompany the memory. These are not just stones, but touchstones that catalogue my travels. They are like the products of an archeological dig which give clues to where I went, how I lived, why those memories matter, and who I shared them with. Anyway, that’s why I collect rocks. And I’m certainly not advocating that anyone else should, but it works for me.
As you perhaps review your own tendency to collect, I hope I may have opened a window of perspective for you. Enjoy your own passion, and don’t forget to share it with others and explain to your loved ones why you collect things and what they mean to you.
Rocks
You never know what folks will value
And when I pause to recollect
The list is nearly endless
Of the thing that we collect
From plethora of tourist trinkets
Stuffed animals and guns
To works of art and cars, I guess
There is something for everyone
I know a fellow who saves matchbooks
Some coins or stamps or swizzle sticks
Antique, retro, modern
Really, you can take your pick
Me, I’ve got a thing for rocks
And wherever I may be
I pick up a rock along the way
Maybe even two or three
I write the date and locale on them
To recall the place to me
And each becomes a sort of bookmark
That represents a memory
I keep them in a bowl at home
Digging through them now and then
As they are tangible reminders
Which take me back again
To people and to places
Which, through the years I’ve known
And a host of moments that I
Cherish more than precious stones
These rocks have no commercial value
Yet, they’re priceless, don’t you see
For they catalogue my lifetime
And each contains a memory
By Frank Carpenter ©
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