Weeding out doesn’t mean thinning out

There are plenty of collectors who will tell you they have a revolving collection, often selling items at a not-so-small profit to support their hobby. And there are likely just as many who will vow “never” to sell anything, as it would be a sacrilege to even consider parting with anything.

I fall under the latter group a lot more than the former. It simply never makes sense to sell a “holy grail” piece in the collection, certainly not those items that took years to find and are truly treasured. But let’s face it, anyone who has been a collector for more than a few years likely walks past some piece in their display case or sitting on a shelf and never gives it a second look. Maybe even a few pieces.

As I recently moved, a point I noted in a past “Military Musings” column, I had the chance to do a full review and audit of what I’ve acquired over the past several decades of collecting. First, it made me feel really, really old! I shouldn’t realistically have items I bought before the current crop of college students were born, yet I do!

Second, and more importantly, I’ll note that a few of those pieces weren’t really appreciated in almost as long. I made my last move in 2010, so it wasn’t exactly a lifetime ago, but it sure feels like it. I know collectors who haven’t moved in several decades, and some have admitted to me they have pieces boxed up that they haven’t seen in many, many years.

Time to do some weeding

While my plan was to acquire more space with this move, that didn’t exactly happen. My collection is better displayed and better organized, but I didn’t gain the aircraft hangar my mind had envisioned. It meant that I don’t have room for everything, and certainly not for every piece to be front and center.

Yet, as I was going through the collection, I wondered why I even had some of these items.

I know some pieces were gifts, and some were acquired back when I was a teenager, but some I just don’t know where they came from – and I’m one who claims to have a really good memory. Where did this collection of East German caps come from? But more importantly, and with no disrespect to my friends who collect East German items, do I really need these?

The answer is no.

The same is true of my Iraqi uniform collection that I bought a really long time ago. If you’re into either East German uniforms or Iraqi items, come see me at Show Of Shows. I’ll have these items on my table.

When I mentioned that fact to my father, who often mans my tables when I go off hunting for treasure, he asked, “Are you sure you want to sell those items?”

The answer was yes.

If I can’t remember where I obtained the East German hats, it means I won’t miss them. The same is true of other items that might get sold. I’m a collector, not a hoarder — although moving what felt like a literal ton of books did make me think I am a book hoarder. I simply have to buy more book shelves, and I’ll leave it at that. Books are different. I see no reason to sell books.

But a pile of U.S. Army Ike jackets that I picked up at various estate sales over the years? Yeah, those are going on the table. And don’t get me wrong, this isn’t about a lack of appreciation for any of these items. I’m selling them because I know someone will likely appreciate them far more than I do. That might be a young collector, it might be someone who specializes in those items, but the point is that I clearly don’t appreciate these items enough to justify keeping them.

Weeding doesn’t mean I’ve stopped collecting

At the same time, my weeding out a few items isn’t by any means “priming the pump” for an eventual sale of everything. There are countless items that I will absolutely never sell. They are my connection to friends who are no longer here, pieces that can put a smile on my face even when I’m having a bad day and some items that I just like having.

I’m nowhere close to even “thinning out the collection.” Perhaps that is why I’ve heard from some collectors over the years, “I never sell anything,” because to them it means an empty room in the not too distant future. Trust me, I won’t have that problem anytime soon — at least not in the new house.

And that brings me to the final point: Am I sad to see my old collecting room go? It was more than just a room; it became part of the collection. Seeing it empty didn’t make me sad. My hope is that the next owner might be a collector, too. Maybe not militaria, but whatever it is I hope that room is filled with whatever makes that owner as happy as my collection has made me.