I’m a cookbook collector. I’ve amassed far too many for condo living. As I pondered my plight, I thought of my other collections over the years. As a kid, I had the distinction of having the largest tinfoil ball in the neighborhood–about the size of a grapefruit. During WWII, I collected military insignias and ribbons that I kept in a little cedar box that said Luray Caverns, Virginia, in one corner.
But my stamp collecting got me in big trouble. I was in bed with some variety of the measles. During my recovery, I cut the French stamps off some very old envelopes in my mother’s collection to put in my stamp book. Being sick, I played the “poor little me” card and was able to fend off much of her wrath.
Today, looking in my refrig, you might say I collect Asian condiments. If I added a jolt to a dish from just half of those bottles, I’d have a flavor tsunami in the kitchen. I might even find a cure for COVID.
I’m not the only one who has unique collections. A farmer in Rolla had one of the largest barbed wire collections in the country. The various wire snippets were bits of rural history. A good friend collects telephone pole insulators, the often colorful, cup-like glass, that once sat atop telephone poles. More history.
I still decorate with some of my many Don Quixote figures. As you remember, he was the crazy guy, who tilted with windmills and chased “impossible dreams.” We have a kinship.
I also have a collection of magnets plastered on my refrigerator door, denoting the places I’ve travelled in the 21st century, which range from Cuba to Uzbekistan. I know it’s tacky to overload the refrigerator door with odds and ends, but they each bring back such fond travel memories. I need one for 2020 to commemorate my no-travel COVID confinement. Perhaps a tiny mask with a magnet attached.
As of now, I’m just collecting dust bunnies under the bed and behind the washer and dryer. They’re cost free and require no display.