Why Some People Do Not Collect | Maine Antique Digest

Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.
(from “The Road Not Taken” by Robert Frost)

In the May 2018 Maine Antique Digest, I explored why people collect. Many motivations came to the fore—curiosity, passion, and anticipation among them. I concluded that collecting is a proper and sensible thing to do although many collectors have no ready answer as to why they do so. Collecting is a quest. It gives people purpose and meaning. It embodies love, joy, and romance, and also the intellect, connecting collectors to others. It can be competitive. Those who collect Americana can avoid, for the moment, the present as they enjoy their treasures. Most importantly collecting gives collectors stories to tell, an identity, adventures now and then, and it is fun.

But learning about why collectors collect leaves some questions unanswered. I thought it would be useful to look at folks who do not collect to see what insights we might gain. After all, those of us who collect American antiques know many folks who do not collect at all. Focusing on the latter may shed light on why it is we cherish our collecting and may perhaps even be thought-provoking. I let them speak in their own voices, adding only a light editorial hand. By no means do these odes to non-collecting exhaust the Pantheon, but they are a start.

Non-collector #1: “Russians have ‘collectives,’ garbage men ‘collect’ my waste, Catholics speak of the ‘collect’ of the Mass. So much collection. So common. So extensive. So why don’t I collect?

“Let me be honest. I tried. I thought I would collect model trains. For a while, I spent time and money buying them. Boxes piled up. Ads came in the mail, on the Internet, from folks who knew of my interest.

“Then I came to a core realization: I am cheap. I enjoy accumulating something, but that is not trains. It is money. There is a fundamental conflict inherent in my condition: to have trains I must lose dollars, and those numbers are incredibly meaningful as far as society and I are concerned. Billionaires take those numbers and buy estates, private jets, or supermodel wives. I just sit and watch and think, ‘I could do something with that stuff.’ But I don’t.

“I think people don’t collect not because they scorn our history, lack aesthetic sense, or fail to appreciate the skill and intensity that went into the creation of that Windsor chair, the sheer luck that allowed the survival of that unique $50 gold piece in perfect condition over 150 years, or the insights preserved in a Hebraic manuscript from the tenth century. When they read of these things in books, look at the pictures, watch the documentaries, they are profoundly impressed. They do not doubt that saving such treasures is worthwhile. Except that is not their job. ‘Not on my dollar,’ they mutter.

“So, collectors, do your thing. I will stand back and praise you, admire your temerity, respect your expertise. And I’ll do my thing: Be cheap.”

Non-collector #2 joins the choir. “It is difficult to prove a negative. Why don’t you do a lot of things? Listen to opera? Have a dog? Bake bread? Collecting never occurred to me. Don’t have a hole to fill. I don’t feel passionately about things.

“I had a high-powered career that was left-brain and sedentary. Collecting seems like more work—research, detail. I left that behind and am interested now in activities that use right brain, not more left brain––physical activities; emotional activities; restful activities. I’m not enamored of stuff for the sake of stuff. I traveled, but it never occurred to me to ‘collect,’ i.e., get the same thing from each place. I bought reminders of each place, but not the same thing (matchbooks or whatever).

“I had limited time for most of my life. Chose to spend it otherwise. I find that experiences are more important to me than things. Concerts, opera, plays, and then dogs, gardening, golf, walking, cooking, baking bread, hosting friends on the porch. I seek out social activities. Collecting seems a lonely endeavor. One might say that my philosophical beliefs discourage attachment to material possessions. I find fulfillment in other ways.”

Non-collector #3, and the chorale is now a trio. “I hunt and fish and have done so my entire life. The year’s passing is marked by opening days. The walls at home are adorned by deer I have shot, by bow and by gun. I love the outdoors and live for hunting and fishing season. My rods and reels and my guns are tools to be cared for and used wisely. I see no reason to collect older versions of them. I have no time for such nonsense. My hobbies fulfill me, and I have no room for another.”

Non-collector #4, as a quartet serenades us. “I grew up in a cluttered home. Those memories are not kind ones, and as an adult I detest clutter and identify myself as a minimalist. Material possessions begin to add up and must be cared for. The fewer things in my life the happier I am. In my life, less is more. I stay in my lane and probably contribute little to the American economy. I own only essential items and avoid accumulating possessions. I find value in simplicity and decluttering my living spaces. I am the perfect candidate for a tiny house someday. Possessions seem like a burden, an unwelcome reminder of less than sterling days gone by.”

With Non-collector #5, we are now a quintet, a small strong group. “I have never thought of collecting. I have school loans, as does my spouse. We have started a family. Childcare is about the same cost as college tuition. Despite being a two-income family, we struggle to make ends meet. Everything seems so expensive. Will we ever be able to afford a home of our own? The car needs a repair. Every penny we have goes to necessities. Perhaps someday, but collecting looks like a luxury, one we cannot afford. Financial constraints force me to prioritize other needs and experiences over collecting objects.”

And with Non-collector #6, our band has reached six. “Mine is a nomadic lifestyle after the pandemic and COVID. I work remotely and roam the country. Moving frequently, the challenges of transporting and maintaining any semblance of a collection is out of the question. I have a few cherished possessions I put out in whatever living unit I find myself, but a collection, no. Were I ever to settle in somewhere? Perhaps. I do not know.”

Non-collector #7 is a voice that gives more depth of timbre. “I have a strong environmental conscience and thus avoid collecting to reduce my ecological footprint. I prefer to limit consumption and waste and applaud efforts to recycle plastics, limit harmful emissions, and be a caretaker for mother earth. Many of my friends—we are younger—feel the same way. Society produces too much consumable goods of all types. My passions lie in the environmental sphere. I have heard the arguments for buying used goods of all shapes and sizes, but I am not yet convinced.”

Non-collector #8 has joined the choir. “I have found throughout my life that I move from one set of tastes to another; one set of interests evolves into another. I have been hesitant to commit to a particular collection or genre, knowing I would lose interest or outgrow it. Friends make fun of my home, never quite knowing what new interest has led me to acquire. I do not know why the new and fresh attract me, but they do. Then I tire of them. Living with the same objects year after year seems like not living at all.”

And yet another, Non-collector #9. “My life is full of work, friends, commuting, church, and the minutia of making it through a day or week. I simply do not have the time or energy required to collect something. The task seems overwhelming, a big undertaking I am not up for. Stacks of books beckon to me that I never find the time to read. Recipes clipped from here and there have dishes that go unmade. I find myself part of what is called the ‘sandwich generation,’ with responsibilities to those both younger and older than me. And when I collapse and find some time for myself, it never seems to last for long before I must rouse myself once again.”

One might say these folks who do not collect have never been bitten by the bug. They might argue that those of us who collect are lucky or could accomplish greater things if we did not. Even if one was raised in a collecting family it is impossible to argue with those who lack the means or time to carry on the collecting tradition. The world is different than it used to be, more expensive for many than it used to be.

Lifestyles are different for many as well—be they $5 cups of coffee to get going in the day, the myriad of lessons and other child requirements, or health care, to name just a few. And time constraints cannot be minimized. Those of us who collect consider ourselves lucky, and perhaps we are. Or perhaps there are other ways to live and find meaning that we have not yet explored.