Junk Collectors

Junk Collectors School

 

We are all junk collectors.  Even those who don’t outright admit it will testify to their ubiquitous junk drawer choc-a-bloc with rubber bands, pencils, straws, outdated coupons, Chinese takeout sauce packages, matches, candles, or any one of another million of modern society’s objects.  Some, like Jake, in the book above, are experts. And his junktiquing protege, Andy, wants to be just like him.  There’s so much in this world that others have cast off, and oftentimes it takes a special set of eyes to see the beauty in things left unloved and unwanted.  Repurposing and recycling happens to all of us ultimately, whether it starts off as an intended activity or the reusing of an item happens simply by chance.  How many of us have truly bought a new car? Most of us in this economy can only afford used, or as the dealers prefer to call them, “preowned.” 

Isn’t much of what we touch preowned?  Was the first house we bought a pre-fab McMansion in a nice suburb?  I think not.  Life evolves for us in Western society, and we are in a continual state of upgrading and improving our lot in life, sometimes to please ourselves, sometimes to impress others, and sometimes for reasons we don’t yet truly comprehend.  Aren’t the nicest  homes we’ve visited filled not with beautiful new drapes, priceless rugs, or costly fixtures but rather possessing instead the qualities of what we value inherently as a human being? I am talking about basic niceties like a warm hearth, a handknitted shawl, a steaming mug of cocoa, a careworn sofa, familiar books or vintage LPs, a collection of old cards and photographs, comfy slippers, and the quiet familiarity of our oldest friends and closest family.  I daresay most of these things’ value lie not in the pricetag but rather in the warmth and attachment we all feel when sharing them? 

If I am a junk collector because I save some pennies and display an antique photograph of my great-great grandmother, within a thrift-store frame, then so be it.  If I am a purveyor of secondhand and have no compunction in scouring the yards and garages of my neighbors looking for the perfect jelly jar, then I guess I am guilty as charged. 

But like Andy, I would be honored to graduate from Junk Collector School, to share in the wit and wisdom of those traveling life’s path before me, and hopefully gather some beauty along the way.