Steer clear of collector envy!

Comedian Steven Wright famously deadpanned, “You can’t have everything. Where would you put it?” That is a fact that anyone who is a serious collector needs to remember. Likewise, even those who aren’t particularly religious should heed the commandment: “You shall not covet your neighbor’s house. You shall not covet your neighbor’s wife, or his male or female servant, his ox or donkey, or anything that belongs to your neighbor.”

Moving past the fact that it could be read to approve of slavery and that few of us like have pack animals, the fact remains, that we shouldn’t covet those things that belong to our friends and neighbors. It’s probably still OK to rush a dealer’s table at the next military show when you see an item you can’t live without, but we shouldn’t lust over the collections of others.

Collectors are indeed a unique breed. Those of us born after WWII, notably later Baby Boomers, Gen-X (like your author), and Millennials all grew up in the era of being told to “collect them all!” That was true of action figures, baseball, and Pokémon cards, and just about any other products of modern consumerism. Add to the fact that faux collectibles – “Limited Edition” collector coins, plates, living room artwork, and even firearms – are released ad nauseam; it is no wonder that the desire to have everything is so ingrained in our psyche and culture.

I’m hardly one to cast stones, and I’ll admit I’ve uttered those words, “If you ever sell it…” on more than a few occasions. But I’ll add, I never realized how annoying it sounds, and only in recent years, I’ve come to have it said to me a bit too often. Comparing it to rusty nails on a chalkboard doesn’t do it justice, and it is also really insulting if I’m completely honest.

We all end up selling things at various times. Perhaps it is to purchase another item for the collection, or perhaps it is because money is needed for medical expenses, to buy a house, or other reasons. As I’ve seen too many friends depart from this world, I know they couldn’t bring it with them and none of us can. Ancient pharaohs may have tried, but all they did was store their collections in their tombs!

Yet, when it comes to selling, am I going to remember to honor every request? None of us should expect even our closest collecting friends to remember to call us when an item comes up for sale. I’m certainly not about to put index cards under my helmets and other pieces that note who to call should I sell it. I have a really good memory and I’ll do my best, but my apologies in advance if you asked me in the past “if you ever sell it…” and someone else ends up with that item.

To be honest, when I opt to sell anything, it’s likely to go on a table at the Ohio Valley Military Society’s Show of Shows. I may alert some collector friends in advance, but when it comes to selling I don’t need to add a layer of work, especially when I know I can get cash handed to me in Louisville!

I also have come to understand that my collector friends will sell items that I would have loved to have had, and I may miss them. This is part of my effort to move past the “Fear of Missing Out” (FOMO), and that includes having collector envy.

It should be added too, that there have been times when I have said, “Yes, if I decide to sell it, I’ll let you know.” Boy, was that a mistake, and not one I’ll ever make again.

On one occasion, I was hounded for years for a particular item – and perhaps it worked out for the other guy as he did end up with a helmet when I needed cash for a larger purchase. However, I didn’t appreciate the constant pressure. More importantly, I felt he showed his true colors once he obtained that item, and I feel now that he wasn’t really a “friend.” While I used to receive “friendly” emails asking how I was doing, and how my father’s cancer treatment was progressing, once he bought the item, I stopped hearing from the guy, and when I requested to use a photo of a piece from his collection for a book I was bluntly told no.

The sting was made worse, because perhaps I could have gotten more for the item, but gave him a “friend’s price.”

Another individual responded to my “Sure, I’ll let you know,” with a follow-up that perhaps we should “negotiate the price.” That was truly frustrating as I had no intention of selling the item and I had initially made that point clear. I only agreed if someday – and to quote Vito Corleone “that day may never come” – I’d let him know if I opted to sell it. When I refused to move forward with “negotiating,” he didn’t take it well and accused me of somehow “backing out of a deal.”

What deal? My agreeing I might sell the item at some point in the future wasn’t my offering it to him, but again collectors are a strange breed.

In the past, I’ve mentioned the questions I’ve heard from non-collectors over the years – and as I’ve noted, most are about the crazy prices, how I could own controversial pieces, etc. But I’ve also heard, “Is there anything you’re missing?”

That question comes back to how engrained we are to “collect them all.” Those who collect baseball cards will never have every card produced, and honestly, even the richest collectors in the world likely couldn’t afford it – not to mention some cards never come up for sale. Yet, even modest collectors like my father can complete the teams of particular years. Likewise, with toys and action figures it may be possible to complete a collection. The modern comic book industry makes it all too easy to have every issue – which in turn will likely limit the collector’s value in years to come if we’re being honest.

And those aforementioned “faux” collectibles are marketed to encourage collections to be completed (which doesn’t increase the value, however).

With militaria, we can never have it all. It is simply impossible.

My late friends like Dave Powers and Joe Godfrey had thousands of helmets each, many not seen in museums, but their respective collections were hardly close to “complete.” They didn’t own some of the helmets I have, and I know I don’t have some pieces I’ve seen on Facebook Groups, collector forums, on friends’ shelves, and of course museums.

Once it gave me collector’s envy. But perhaps as Dave, Joe, and too many other friends are no longer here, I’ve come to realize I am happy with the items I own. As I write this, I’m sitting in my home office and I know all too well, that I can’t have everything. And even if I could, where would I put it?