Much of stuff I thought I could not live without is locked up in a storage locker on the other side of town. When I moved into a studio apartment, many treasures were left with no place in my new home. I could not part with them...so like many of us, I STORED THEM.
I never see them, I don't go near that locker for which I pay yearly. I know they are there, and perhaps that is some comfort. Would Linus be happy if his security blanket was locked up and not handy?
What is there that I have no room for? A short-wave radio. I am (was) a Ham radio operator. There are couple of rigs there, with the wires needed for an antenna. I should part with them. My license has expired, I will never send out another CQ. There are receivers there too. I get hungry for the sound of Morse code.
I struggled to learn Morse code in the Army. But once I had it, it stuck with me. I would love to sit down and copy more. The news sounds newsyier when you take it down from dots and dashes. (Dits and dahs, we say now)
And records... 45's and LP's. I would probably have to go to an antique store to get a player for them. But I would like to hear Time is Tight, Hot Toddy, The In Crowd, and Night Train again. I have half a dozen different versions of Night Train. I would love to compare them again. I even have Harry James' Trumpet Blues on 78 rpm, and, get this, Glen Miller's In the Mood.
There are books I loved, and books I never got around too. Can't throw them away.
There are home movies of the kids growing up, and then the same movies on video-tape. Time to get 'em on DVD. And boxes and boxes of photos. Somewhere in the locker are the collected negatives of all those snapshots. I bought a scanner that takes 35mm negatives, just so I could see them all again...but never got the scanner and the negatives together.
I have a stamp collection, started by my MOTHER a generation ago, that ought to be worth something...someday, to some of my heirs, I seem to have lost interest in collecting more The same with coins. I havecomplete sets of coins -- up to the time I locked them up-- and no interest in continuing...yet no inclination to get rid of them.
I won't go into the psychological term for people who collect, collect, and cannot stop. The kindest part of the term is "retentive". That's me, I am afraid.
And now my compulsions drive me to write a journal, and I will, until I find a way to lock them all up in a locker.