Despite being fascinated by history, I don’t have a particularly strong desire to own it. I can appreciate the process of finding old things for a collection, and I can appreciate seeing the things themselves, but the acquisition always makes me a little uncomfortable. How badly do I want a basement full of old stuff?
I enjoy television shows like American Pickers, where antique experts go across the country searching for good finds, but I’m always a little chagrined seeing the properties of these sellers, who are frequently hoarders. Some of them have entire warehouses full of junk, much of which they are emotionally attached to. The owners are usually old, some nearly on their deathbed, but by god, they won’t take any less for that junk than what it’s truly worth! Ain’t nobody pulling the wool over old Bob’s eyes, this here is gold!
On the one hand, God bless the hoarders. I was able to buy a much-coveted Lego set from my childhood in brand-new, unopened condition last year, all thanks, I suspect, to somebody leaving it in a closet for 22 years. It currently crowns the top of my small bookshelf, reminding me to focus on the good stuff and not take myself too seriously. I’ve also acquired a few mining catalogs for research purposes, one of which is over 120 years old. That doesn’t happen without somebody’s semi-careless storage of old crap.
But on the other hand, the thought of being one of these hoarders absolutely terrifies me. I very much prefer the quantity of my possession to be on the lean side. I’m starting to get the itch to ditch my old washer and dryer, which haven’t seen action in several years, since I moved out of my apartment and into this house, and I’m a little frustrated with the sheer quantity of tools I own, including a large shop press, the purchase of which has been 99% unnecessary. I also have 3 gaming consoles now, when the ideal number is 1, but thanks to incompatibility between games on different consoles, I can’t justify getting rid of any yet. But hey, that’s me.
I don’t think there’s anything wrong with sentimental items, but one common theme among these hoarders is an emotional over-attachment to things that no longer serve a functional role in their life. Often these are the old possessions of loved ones who have died, but the problem is that American culture, for quite a long time, has normalized the owning of a great quantity of possessions, so when somebody dies, there’s a lot to keep around if you’re going to keep it all. I think all of us can kind of understand this, but since actual, real-world hoarding is often a psychological status, I want to say, some people just become paralyzed by the feeling that they need to keep these loved ones “alive” by keeping…everything. I get that, but it’s sad and unfortunate, too.
What’s really interesting about the rationale of hoarders is that it just seems to fall at the extreme of a spectrum we are all a part of. There are times when I’ve held on to things that “are still useful”. This is often the #1 reason hoarders keep little nic-naks and thrift store finds. So it’s funny, being very much not a hoarder, seeing in myself the same rationales. But I guess for most of us, this way of thinking doesn’t dominate our lives the way it does for hoarders, and I find that really interesting.
As I get deeper into some of the historical research I’m trying to do, it’s becoming more and more tempting to go crazy and start buying old catalogs and books left and right. But the chaos is triggering the alarm bells in my head. Partly, I’d love to scan these materials and place them in the public domain, but it’s dangerous to take on responsibilities nobody ever asked you to. It’s dangerous to assume some sort of necessity or propriety toward “making the world a better place”. It is, potentially, a noble goal, and at the very least I would enjoy it, but the price is pretty steep compared to my other hobbies, and there’s a very real danger of building up a mass of old documents that sit around and don’t necessarily contribute to my research, or not as much as I might prefer.
“If not me, than who else?” I keep wondering. But this may be mistaken. I still have to think economically, to focus on those things that return the greatest value for their cost, for my sake, and not for the sake of the ephemeral “others”, who may only exist in my head. I mean, when was the last time you got curious what grocery stores sold in 1917?
I think there’s an inner hoarder within us all. It is…the human psyche. A dark and mysterious realm, subject to biological and philosophical fears, always trying to surround itself with comfort, and a den of good things. Most mysterious and most deceptive it can be!