Life on the Road

How does a recovering collector get by without her collections of “stuff” when pursuing the simple life? Before we divested ourselves of our “stuff,” and went on the road, we had a large collection of shot glasses from various destinations. Now, granted, it wasn’t a collector’s collection, but we had more than we could ever use, even if we threw a whiskey-tasting party.

I’ve also been known, in my life, to collect books, yarn, lapel pins, stuffed animals, post cards, stickers, flamingo-themed items, Muppet memorabilia, and medieval manuscript recreations.

I was recently reminded by my grandmother’s birding notebook that not all collections need to cost money. Grandma was an avid birder and lifelong member of the Audubon Society. She was a pioneer in conservation in her area, heading up commissions to save important habitats from overdevelopment.

She once told me that she had stopped birding because after several decades, she became tired of it. She turned instead to butterflies, but at her age then of 80, butterflies “move around rather fast,” so she switched again to flowers.

Her method of collection was simple. See a flower. Correctly identify it, or observe it well enough to look it up. Write it in a notebook. Move on to another flower.

If you’re the kind of collector who feels an urgent need to have a record of your collection, some physical thing that serves to preserve it, then you might collect the way my father-in-law does, with a camera. Imagine his delight when, frustrated with his flower photos coming out rather fuzzy, he discovered the “flower” setting on his camera. It is, in fact, the macro setting (a common setting on many digital cameras, used for closeup work). He’s now able to take beautiful up-close photos of his beloved cove, which he then shares online with friends and family. No paper, no scrapbooks, just a digital camera and some bytes.

I have another friend whose photo collection contains a sock monkey. Like those of us with “themed” collections, like flamingos, or cardinals, hers is a digital photo series in which her favorite sock monkey always makes an appearance.

Periodically, I take out my sketch book and pencils and go out into the field. I’ve taken a few small classes on the subject of nature sketching, and I follow the blog of a great nature artist named Cathy Johnson. Still, it’s an enjoyment, and something that spends time in a creative endeavor.

As we’ve gone on our travels in the last year, I have started various collections. Pins from the National Monuments, postcards, photos (of course), videos, jams and jellies, books… but the things I cherish are the things that carry memories from one mind to the next. The jams, when eaten, make us reminisce about being in the mountains where we first discovered them. The books, after being read and handed to a friend with a strong recommendation. The postcards, flying through the postal service on their way to someone else, announcing “here! Here is news from someone far away, but not forgotten!”

I don’t know what the purpose of a collection is outside of memory. I know that, for the advertising machines of the world, a collection is a way to sell you stuff, clutter, crap. It’s a way to brand a bunch of cookie-cutter plastic ticky-tack as “Hannah Montana” and pretend it’s a genuine experience. But it’s not. I cherish the photos of me drawing at the Grand Canyon more than I value the drawing, perhaps, but the photo captures my experience better than the drawing does.

And so, I charge all you seekers and collectors to look around you. I challenge you to replace one of your physical, clutter-making collections with a virtual one. If you have a “pigs” collection, pick one pig (your favorite, or the one your kids made for you) and begin posing it in new and inventive places, then taking a photo of it. Waste no time or money or space on printing these photos– in fact, limit your simple-world collection budget to less than $8 (the cost of a used field guide and a notebook). Let the photo simply be a record that says “I was here, I did this– the pig is just standing in my place.” If you have a postcard obsession, take all your postcards out, write a single sentence on the back, and mail them to a friend. The sentence can even be “I’m getting rid of all my post cards; hope you enjoy this one!” Let fly with your post cards; you will likely get in return a hug, or a smile, or an email saying “thanks for brightening my day.”

If you take up this challenge, come tell me about it. I’d love to hear about it!

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