We Love Our Collections Why do we hold collections so near and dear to our hearts? Maybe Gestalt is at play: “The whole is greater than the sum of its parts.” One or two photographs might be beautiful, but an entire exhibit can create an awe-inspiring experience. This may explain why breaking up our collections feels difficult, even blasphemous, as we attempt to clear space for more essential items. It makes sense to keep the collection together in the case of Picassos or rare cars. More typically, individuals I work with have collections such as Hummel figurines, National Geographic, stuffed animals, books, records and cassette tapes, Beanie Babies, etc. Most of the value is in the emotions they elicit, not the dollars they command. I am Not Immune to the Collection Bug I have had my collections over the years. I believe it started with a sticker collection when I was a young girl, but I also had groups of stationary, stuffed animals, colorful pens and pencils, and erasers that I periodically pulled out to admire or display. I also had a collection of Life Magazines. I enjoyed looking at all the fantastic photographs, and I was not immune to that perilous thought, “These will be worth something someday!” They sat well preserved in the dark recess of my closet for many years before I realized they were a dime a dozen. Additionally, I had kept them in good condition, but they were not pristine. Even if they had been, I probably would have had to live to the ripe old age of one-hundred-fifty to potentially reap any financial reward. Why Would Anyone Break Up a Set? If collections make us happy, why break them up? Collectively, we are taught to keep sets and collections together, and if we do sell or donate, we must do it in one fell swoop. To do otherwise might later feel like a mental itch that we cannot scratch. Nevertheless, there might be times when it is in our best interest to undo the collection.
Collections can bring joy, but something has to give if we need space more than these notable groupings. It can feel challenging, but typically, we can find one item to represent the entire collection. Breaking Up a Set Take time to choose one or two items. Then, let the rest go. Nonprofits will be thankful for the incomplete set. Besides, you never know when a shopper will be overjoyed to find missing pieces to their own displayed collection. Easy for me to say, right? Well, actually, no. As a child, erasers were one of my prized collections. I loved pulling the drawstring pouch from the drawer to lay them out and admire them. There were a bunch of bananas, a mini record in its sleeve, a cute pink cat, a six-inch chocolate-scented popsicle, and two more handfuls. A Second Chance on Memories I remember purging childhood possessions in school and again before moving to California. I thought I had discarded that eraser collection and nearly everything else from my childhood. Periodically, I would remember those overly aggressive purges and wince in a moment of sadness, then move on with my day. Early in my organizing career, my parents discovered boxes tucked away in their near-empty attic. We had forgotten that they had graciously let me stash the "keepers" there since I was unsure how long my stint in California would last. As a professional organizer, I was somewhat embarrassed to discover skeletons in my closet. Still, I was ecstatic to learn that some collections had survived those downsizing efforts. Imagine my joy when I came across that little eraser collection. I felt as if I had found buried treasure. I smiled as I admired them one by one. Fortunately, there was space to temporarily store the boxes there as I whittled down the collections and ephemera at a relaxing pace. One Mighty Little Eraser Eventually, it came time to decide what to do with those erasers. I was able to take my most important items back to California, but living in a small San Francisco apartment leaves little space for nostalgia. It was clear that I should break up the eraser set because:
There was one rainbow-colored eraser, though, that erased cleanly. It reminded me of my love of the bright colors that were so popular at the time. Its clear plastic container reminded me of a mesmerizing store I adored as a child. It had the most beautiful stickers, pens, papers, and colored acrylic containers. It was a special treat to go to go there. That memory led to another memory of carefree summer walks with siblings and friends to a nearby 7-11 to peruse the nickel candy. This eraser packed a memorable punch, so I kept it and parted with the rest. I periodically pull it out to reminisce about that magical part of my childhood. I now value it as much as the entire collection and at a fraction of the space. It is a lovely little eraser: cute, practical, and easily retrieved. Only on rare occasions do I wish I had kept a second one like that fantastic yet impractical chocolate popsicle. Nevertheless, I am happy with my decision for so many reasons. I do not advocate the ruthless purging of sentimental items. I still have plenty from my childhood. A friend recently said on a Zoom call, “Hey, remember sticker books?!” I quickly retrieved mine, and we reminisced about our childhoods as I showed her my collection, complete with a great "oily" sticker and scratch-and-sniff stickers, some of which still smelled! Clearly, a small eraser collection differs vastly from a special collection passed down through generations. Still, the same concept can be applied, especially if the collection is not rare or worth a tidy sum. If you find that only some items in your collection bring joy, feel free to use my strategy to create space of your own.
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