As I work away on the living room of the New Pad, I’m doing more than painting walls. For example, art must be hung – with intent. We have too much from which to choose (an embarrassment of riches, really), so I’m trying to make solid choices and feed my soul in the process. I spend more time in this part of the house than Mister, so the art needs to appeal to me.
I’m also placing objects about. This selection process is healthy. Not only do I get to decide what means the most or is the most beautiful, I also get to decide what to pass on to another. Getting rid of stuff feels great! But again, I am being intentional in this endeavor. I don’t want to regret giving away a piece that should have been kept. It’s slow-going, but it is going.
Anyhoo – because I wanted to use some items that have been packed since the big move a few years ago, I had to dig into a box that’s been doing nothing except collecting dust. And what a fun time that was! I not only found exactly what I was looking for, but also my little collection of ruby souvenir glass.
As I unwrapped each fragile piece, I tried to remember when and where they were acquired. For the most part, I couldn’t recollect a danged thang. But then I unwrapped my favorite – a piece from the 1899 World’s Fair. As I gently cradled the glass, I remembered exactly where I found it and how excited I was. That’s the glass that started it all. And I love it still.
This is the perfect time to address what it means to be a collector – of anything really. Let’s say you and your Sugar Plum had the best vacation of your lives in, oh, Pennsylvania Dutch Country. And while you were there, the two of you decided to buy a little windmill to commemorate the occasion and to remind you of the joy you experienced. And then, let’s say you go home and place your windmill on the kitchen sill, because you know you’ll see it every day, and appreciate not only the memories it triggers, but also the windmill itself. And then, let’s say you host a family holiday. And all your relatives from far and wide see the little windmill and hear the story of its acquisition. After the holiday, everyone goes home and life continues. Then your birthday rolls around, and you receive multiple windmill trinkets from your parents, your brother, your cousin Oscar, your great aunt Lulu, your in-laws and your mee-maw. And while a couple of them are cute, you certainly don’t love them all. And you never had any intention of starting a windmill collection in the first place. Friends and loved ones will latch on to your collection (or non-collection, as the case may be) and bestow upon you items they feel you must surely want. They can’t help it. In a way, they feel you’ve just given them a road map to the perfect gift. My family have done it. Hell – I’ve done it!
So please don’t take this the wrong way, but I’d prefer to not receive any ruby souvenir glass from you in the future. I am very particular about the pieces I select and have passed on many a glass. So as much as your kind, generous spirit is appreciated, please don’t give me any souvenir glass. If you absolutely want to gift me with something, may I suggest an outing to a museum or for coffee? That’s more my social jam, um-kay? And I promise you this: I will appreciate sitting in a cafe with you and catching up more than you can possibly imagine. All that to say – no gifts! Capisce?
So now my little collection of ruby souvenir glass is out and visible. And though I don’t remember where or when the majority of the pieces were claimed, I do recall one. After all, you never forget your first.