Reflections: A Conversation With Hannah
The other day I had the opportunity to spend some time with my daughter Hannah. Gotta say that it was a great day and I wished we had done that a lot more over the years and a lot more in the future. I can’t say that we solved any world problems, but we covered a lot of ground from politics to religion, values and integrity, love and marriage, children, work, and careers. I’m sure there were other subjects like food and music, too. Let’s just say we covered it all, even some detailed logistics about what happens after I die.
Before I get into the details of the discussion, I have to tell you that I’m a collector. It all started years ago with my late wife and I collecting antique furniture. The collection wasn’t born from a passion for antiques, but it was born out of poverty. It all started with what we needed and what we could afford. What we needed was everything, and what we could afford was nothing. What we needed the most at the time was a bed, and that led us to a brass bed, and then a Victorian table, a panel glass lamp and then it mushroomed into a houseful of antiques from art to clocks and lamps and glassware, musical instruments, toys, and just about anything you can think of. That collecting streak lasted 35 years until her death.
Shortly thereafter, I met Teri. One of my first dates with Teri included some antiquing and I was blown away by the fact that she loved to collect as much as I did. Teri and I have been collecting together for over 20 years and have amassed a very large collection of Native American art, artifacts, beadwork, and jewelry. The complication is that we’ve never thrown anything away, or sold a piece that we collected. I once read that the difference between hoarding and collecting is that the collector has cool stuff. I identified with and adopted that phrase and it’s become my mantra ever since.
So, what does all of this have to do with Hannah and me? Well, Hannah looked at me very seriously and said, “I don’t want to be morbid, but when you die, what do you want done with all your stuff?” I thought, what a great question! I explained to her that the entire collection would pass to her mother and that she and her sisters were welcome to anything they want. She pressed on and said what if Mom is gone and we don’t want it? That’s easy, sell it I declared. She was shocked, “Wouldn’t you want to donate it to a museum,” she asked. “Absolutely not,” I replied. “The museum is the last place I would want to see it go to. It may be displayed for a time, but then it will be boxed-up, put in the archives, and if they run short of money, it might even be sold.
I could see she was perplexed by my attitude and she said, “You’ve spent your life collecting it.” And that’s the heart of my message.
The fun and joy of collecting to me is not possessing an object, it’s in the finding or the hunt. It’s about the story of where the item came from, the interesting people we met along the way, the cities we visited, and farm auctions and antique stores, and art galleries and lawn and garage sales along the way.
Some of the items I’ve collected fascinated me enough to buy them, house it, display it, move it dozens of times from one house to another, and if I’m gone, I would want another collector to experience the same joy and exhilaration as I have over the years. I would want the girls to meet collectors and enthusiast and build their own stories and memories.
There’s a thrill in collecting. Maybe it appeases our inner nature to be hunters and gatherers. Maybe it’s the thrill of the chase that has been elevating Dopamine levels in humans for centuries. Maybe it’s the satisfaction of surrounding yourself with the things that give you the most pleasure. I can’t say for sure, but I know for me it’s all of the above.
