RINKER ON COLLECTIBLES — Column #1496

Copyright © Harry Rinker, LLC 2015

Creating a Personal Connection

As I continue to sort through the dozens of archival file boxes residing three rows deep along one wall of my office and in a shelved storage room built especially to hold them, I am overwhelmed by a simple thought—I do not want to throw this out, “this” being a broad term for almost everything.

The difficulty is simple.  Each file folder or object kindles a memory connection between the object and me.  A memory is critical in collecting, especially if it is personal.  Personal memories breakdown into “me,” family, career, and object memories.

The concept of discarding memories is alien to most individuals.  Memories contribute to our uniqueness.  They define who we are, perhaps more to ourselves than to others.  Discarding a memory is equivalent to destroying a part of one’s self.

I currently am in the process of filing the genealogical information I have gathered over the last 50 years.  It is a humbling experience.  First, many of these records are in my possession because no one else in the family wanted them.  Second, approximately one-third of the family photographs are unidentified.  My grandparents, aunts, uncles, great aunts and uncles, second cousins, and even some first cousins who could have identified the unknown person have passed away.  Third, many of the items only have meaning to me.  My children, my cousins, and the children of my cousins do not care.  I am the final custodian.  I am haunted by the question of what will happen to this information when I die.  Try as I might, I can find no answer.

The discovery of a copy of the will of my mother’s sister Vera Prosser Grube Fries is typical of the “what should I do with it” question.  Aunt Vera had no children.  While I have fond memories of her, my younger cousins do not.  My children have no memories.  When Aunt Verna died, her will divided her estate between her brothers and sisters.  Since my mother had passed away, her portion of the estate passed down to me.  Logic dictates that I should discard the copy of the will.  Retaining it takes up space in the file drawer.  The family and historical information it contains is minimal.  If I keep it, it will only delay the “throw it out” process.  Although I know this, I still filed it.  I naively continue to convince myself that someday when I finish filing all the family records, I will go back through the files and discard the secondary and tertiary material.  I no more believe this than you do, but…..

Me and family memories, especially for my generation (I just turned 74), are the hardest to destroy.  They are the links to a treasured and honored past.  My generation grew up when most relatives lived in close proximity to one another, an active correspondence and visits were maintained with those who moved away, and family reunions were a regular occurrence.  Decades have passed since the last Rinker and Prosser family reunions.  There was a Seiple family reunion in Washington, D.C., in 2015, but I had a schedule conflict.

A person’s legacy is measured in many ways, one of which is the records from a person’s business career.  My business files filled over a dozen four-drawer file cabinets.  I kept extensive files on everything.  My business trips, my radio and television appearances and shows, my dealings with individuals, organizations, and publishers, and more.  Since I have no plans to write an autobiography, the files are of no value to anyone, including me.  Yet, discarding them has been one of the most painful things I have done.  Every file rekindles memories.  Each discard clouds them.

Copies of the articles and columns I have written in the course of my career fill five file drawers.  I continue to add to them.  At some point, I plan to contact the Lehigh University Library and Winterthur to see if these institutions have any interest in them.  If not, they will go to the recycling center as did my other business files.

I have a personal attachment with the objects I own.  I love them.  It makes little difference if the object descended through one of my many family lines or I bought it.  The memories of how and when I acquired it and the research I did or plan to do bind me to it.  The objects are an integral part of whom I am.

In the process of sorting through the many boxes, I am making a list of the books and articles I want to write before I end my career.  I continue to be astonished by the amount of research materials and number of objects I acquired with this idea in mind.

I am certain about one thing.  I am not unique.  Collecting and memory are linked.  The stronger a person’s memory is about an object, the less likely the person is to dispose of it.  Although a strong memory bond with an object can develop immediately upon acquisition, it usually takes time for the owner and object to achieve a “this object is part of me” relationship.

Pride of ownership is a critical part of this relationship. Although collectors often house their collections in basements or private rooms, the truth is that they love to share their treasures with others.   Collectors are educators and proselytizers.  They want others to share the joy they see in an object with others.

Who is responsible for creating this personal connection?  Historically, the burden rested with the individual who acquired the object.  Today, it requires a broader community.

Once the easiest to establish, the family memory connection is among the most difficult in the twenty-first century.  The phrase “my kids do not want it” is commonplace.  Younger generations have little backward focus.  As a result, grandparents and parents who want to pass along family heirlooms have to take an active role in demonstrating the memory value of the things they own.   “That belonged to your grandmother or great grandmother” is not enough.  If these previous owners do not become living, breathing entities to the prospective recipient, the person will not care.  Further, the age of the “shelf sitting antique” is over.  Family heirlooms will have more interest if they are viewed as still functional.  Decorative value is possible; but, younger generations use far less decorative accessories than did older generations.

When a person buys an antique or collectible, the seller, especially if a dealer, is responsible for creating an ambiance and mystique about the object that allows the purchaser to feel pride in their purchase and a desire to share that pride with others.  In an age when decorating value is more important than collecting value in making a sale, the seller needs to share as much knowledge as possible about the object at the time of the sale.  At the very least, this means issuing a sales receipt that contains a solid description of the object, one with enough clues to allow the buyer to easily learn more about the object.

In the past, providing a photocopy of a page or two from a reference book was the best way to do this.  Today, the publication rate for new reference books is seriously declining.  The key reference books for many collecting categories are now more than 10 years old and out of print.  In the digital age, a reference to a website containing information about the object is far more appropriate.

Sellers also must continue to work on their sales pitch.  The concept that an object sells itself is passé.  When concluding a sale, the dealer needs to develop a phraseology that compliments the buyer.  Possibilities include: “your purchase shows you have a real appreciation for quality;” “this is an object you can take pride in sharing with others;” and, “this is a bargain price.”  If the antiques and collectibles industry is to survive, merely collecting the money at the conclusion of a sale no longer suffices.

Ideally, the seller should share with the buyer other opportunities to purchase similar material that complements the purchased object.  In an age when many purchasers do not think collection, it is imperative that sellers promote the concept.  Every major collection started with the first few purchases.

A personal connection with an object is not materialistic, a “bad” word in the 2010s.  Rather it is a connection, a commitment, and an attachment.  It creates meaning and a warm, fuzzy feeling of goodness about one’s self.

Harry L. Rinker welcomes questions from readers about collectibles, those mass-produced items from the twentieth and twenty-first centuries.  Selected letters will be answered in this column.  Harry cannot provide personal answers.  Photos and other material submitted cannot be returned.  Send your questions to: Rinker on Collectibles, 5955 Mill Point Court SE, Kentwood, MI  49512.  You also can e-mail your questions to harrylrinker@aol.com. Only e-mails containing a full name and mailing address will be considered.

You can listen and participate in WHATCHA GOT?, Harry’s antiques and collectibles radio call-in show, on Sunday mornings between 8:00 AM and 10:00 AM Eastern Time.  If you cannot find it on a station in your area, WHATCHA GOT? streams live on the Internet at www.gcnlive.com.