Rinker on Collectibles

RINKER ON COLLECTIBLES — Column #1558

Personal Collections Define Us

Dictionary.com provides several definitions for the word collection. The second applies directly to material assembled by collectors: “something that is collected; a group of objects or an amount of material accumulated in one location, especially for some purpose or as a result of some process.” [See: http://www.dictionary.com/browse/collection] The simple definition is more complex than it appears. It defines two specific types of collections.

The “for some purpose” section of the definition applies to collections of objects assembled by collectors. A collector identifies an object group, acquires examples, researches them, and organizes and/or sorts the objects in a meaningful order. A trade truism is that a collector’s collection(s) defines who he/she is. My observations support this.

In the past when asked what I collect, my stock response was: “This is the wrong question. The better question is what do you not collect?” My smug answer is: “I am a collector of collections.” During the time (1991 to 2010) I lived and worked at the former Vera Cruz [PA] Elementary School, my collections numbered above 500. A list of collections in my home in Kentwood, Michigan, would exceed 100. I remain a collector of collections.

Personal collections are the second type of collection implicit in the section of the definition reading “as a result of some process.” Most individuals do not identify objects that comprise personal collections as collections. Personal collections are objects that survive because they document a specific aspect of the collector’s life, for example, family memorabilia, academic awards and achievements, vacation souvenirs, and documents that derive from professional accomplishments. They occur with little planning, knowledge, and foresight. Their financial value is minimal, the assumption of the owner being that no one other than me cares about the stuff. In reality, these personal collections are as much or more a collector’s legacy than his/her antiques and/or collectibles collection(s).

Several months ago, I received a call from a listener to WHATCHA GOT?, my syndicated antiques and collectibles call-in show. Hank is a ham radio operator and has no children. In the process of disposing of his father’s estate, he has started to reflect on the fate of the things that he owns. Hank called to ask my recommendations for disposing of his collection of QSL cards.

A QSL card, usually postcard size, is an acknowledgement that one amateur radio operator sends to another to confirm their contact. During the early 1950s, I toyed with the idea of becoming a ham radio operator. I passed my novice test and became WN3MWU. At the time, the ability to take 13 words per minute of Morse code was one of the requirements to obtain a general license. I could not train my ears to do it. When my novice license expired, I moved on to other things. I have no idea what happened to my QSL cards or the examples I received. Here one day, gone the next.

In another call with Hank, I suggested I might have some interest in acquiring his QSL collection. Hank responded: “I know I accomplished good engineering skills & crafts in order to build my own radio station from top to bottom…These cards are a testament to my abilities & accomplishments as well as drive & desire / passion for this hobby which attracted me when I was only 6 or 7 years of age / Yes, I am expressing sentiment, Harry. Loads of it too! / I must have 10 lbs of QSL cards & Special Event Certificates which I put loads of effort & money into with postage and time to make the contacts as well as just the ‘office work’ to accomplish contact & acquire the items since 1978 / Let me sleep & shower on it.” Hank also indicated he wanted to discuss the possibility of sale with his sister.

After reading Hank’s email, I responded: You are so emotionally tied to the QSL cards that the only sane option is to keep them. / I did some internet research. There are large blocks of 1950s/60s QSL cards for sale on eBay for an average cost of eight to ten cents…..”

Hank’s last reply read: “As a young kid, I accomplished the tasks of building a radio station in by bedroom & talking around the world by age 17. I am very happy to have done that as a kid. Late nights, when I came home from work while in college, I got on the air and chatted with someone far away to relax. I couldn’t play my Banjo to relax at 3 am.”

Hank still has his QSL cards. Our email exchange highlighted a key concern faced by everyone. How does or does not one get rid of things that emotionally define who he/she is? Is there a point where one become so oblivious to his/her past that objects associated with it no longer have any value?

Despite some protestations, individuals have an innate desire to pass along the things that mean the most to them to future generations. In the past, future generations looked forward to this transfer. Today’s younger generation are far more callous and uncaring. They are forward rather than backward lookers. As a result, older adults are faced with few disposal options for personal collections. The landfill looms large.

In preparation for writing this column, I decided to make a list of personal collections. The list became longer each time I returned to it. General categories often had six or more subcategories. My Rinker-Prosser family material comprised bibles, books, certificates, documents, letters, photographs (framed and unframed), 35mm slides, textiles, and six file drawers of genealogical files. My personal Boy Scout material fills two archival file boxes and includes material from a visit to Philmont and attendance at the 1957 Boy Scout Jamboree at Valley Forge. Two archival file boxes marked “Hellertown” contain high school and local history memorabilia. I still own the white bucks I wore as a member of the Hellertown High School and Lehigh University marching bands. My father Paul Rinker’s shooting jacket (he participated in the Camp Perry matches of the late 1930s and early 1940s) hangs in a closet.

Personal collections fall into multiple “I” categories. I bought, created, listened to, made, photographed, played with, read, received, used, was present when, wrote, and/or wore. Memory is emotional and individual, even if the experience took place in a group environment. The individual and the object bond to a point where disposal requires relinquishing a small sliver of one’s individuality.

Personal professional memories are primarily paper supplemented by a number of three-dimensional items. Drawers of files chronicle years of hard work and devotion to a craft. In my case, eight file drawers are filled with files containing copies of my articles, blogs, books, columns, emails, manuscripts, career related photographs, and seminar materials. The books I have authored, co-authored, or edited fill two book shelves. I trust hard copy and hard objects. I have no faith in long-term digital preservation.

It is too easy to lose material in the digital age. Access is available only so long as someone pays the cost to maintain the information. I have no misconception in respect to my children’s willingness to maintain www.harryrinker.com once I am deceased. It is highly likely that an individual doing an Internet search of “Harry Rinker” in 2120 will generate no listings, the possible exception being an ancestry website.

How will digital family images be preserved? Will Facebook survive for 100 years or more? Think hard before answering yes. History suggests otherwise. At first I resolved to copy and store digital family photographic images and save them to Picture files. My good intentions lasted less than two months – too many images and separate files. My memories of individuals will die with me, not be preserved as digital documents.

Personal collections are unique to each individual. A woman saves several dresses she wore, not because they fit but because of the memories they evoke. The photographs of grandparents and great-grandparents are valued only to the owner. The owner’s children and grandchildren do not identify with them.

When advising individuals that are downsizing, my first recommendation is to preserve the things that evoke the most memories. Ignore financial considerations. It is the personal collections that count the most. They should be the last to go.

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.

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