The Collectors

I work at the Salvation Army on my day off, Friday and last Friday, I found a book, The Collectors by Robert Carter.  His earlier novel, Prints in the Valley is a favourite read and I expected The Collectors would not disappoint. So I bought it, a bargain at $1 along with some books for Seffy at only 50 cents each.  

     I also bought a spinning spice rack for Seffy, a handmade leather belt and pack of playing cards for Kibby who worked alongside me because he was not well enough to run in his school’s cross-country.  I took home at no cost because it was so old and would have been ditched, The Concise Home Doctor, circa 1960 and a collection of week-by-week 1970 editions of ‘the great new colour encyclopedia,’ Australia’s Heritage:  The Making of a Nation.  

And I kept a Thank you card written by a couple where they comment on why they love Atherton and a birthday card written by Titty to her brother, Jeffrey.  Oh, and Jeffrey’s social studies exercise book.   I can’t understand why people throw away such interesting and sentimental items.  I have this need to collect them, to keep them safe because I cannot bear for them to become landfill.

     
     Anyway, on Saturday morning I relaxed on the lounge and started to read The Collectors as I ate a leisurely breakfast of Tableland fruit and home made yoghurt.  Something wasn’t right.  One, I don’t read these days because any spare time I have is spent preparing material and writing short stories for my awesome literacy students.  Two, I don’t eat breakfast sitting down, ever.  And three, there was a ghostly silence in the house and that gave me time to think, something I rarely do.

     The reason there was a ghostly silence was Tony and the kids had gone to Cairns to help my mum, Bubu tidy her house for sale.  She’s signed a contract to buy a house at the end of our street and the purchase of that house is dependent on the sale of her Cairns house.  I really want her nearby since she hasn’t enjoyed the best of health lately and the kids really love being with her.

     And the reason Tony and the kids need to help Bubu tidy up is because Bubu is a collector. She collects many things.  Actually, she collects all things.  I have visited Bubu every six weeks or so since we moved to Atherton and each time I’ve walked in there have been many new items she’s collected.  A new sofa.  A new lounge chair. The coffee table was new, but I didn’t notice.  A new kitchen bench – bamboo!  A new set of cutlery. A new dining table and chairs.  Another new dining table without chairs.  That’s just in the lounge, dining and kitchen before I venture into the bedrooms.  Rarely am I able to venture into the bedrooms because they are full of new and interesting collectibles.  A very fetching cane day bed in one room with a gorgeous Egyptian cotton cover. Stuff concealed under piles of clothes, blankets and throws, good quality woollen or cotton, of course. A coffee table, perhaps the old one that was replaced by the new one I didn’t notice.  But sure enough, all the old items are in the carport waiting to be taken to the second hand shop (by my brother, Stephen) to enter the great household “recycle of life” and bring contentment to other collectors.  Bubu has a strong environmental commitment and saves many collectibles from becoming land fill.

     The word hoarding may come to mind, but Bubu doesn’t hoard.  Hoarding, from my lay understanding, is the inability to part with possessions, often of little value.  Commonly hoarded items are newspapers, magazines, clothes and food.  Further, hoarding behaviour often adversely affects family members and this is certainly not the case, except when Bubu lost the kneading blade to Stephen’s bread maker when she borrowed it.  I warned him against lending it to her.

     “She’ll lose it,” I said.  “And you’ll never find it in all the stuff she has.”

     After it vanished I suggested Bubu look behind the couch for the kneading blade.  But no one in my family ever listens to me.

     To be honest, the only time Bubu’s collecting has ever bothered me is when I’ve visited for the night and not been able to find the bed when I’ve planned to sleep.  But other than that, Bubu’s collecting has only benefitted me. 

     Only recently she bought me, from the second hand shop, A G2 George Gross ribbon embroidered skirt and a pair of pale, soft leather deck shoes, that don’t fit.  My favourite recent op shop purchase from Bubu was a Toulouse-Lautrec Moulin Rouge print dress by Gabriella Frattini whose designs are influenced by the fashions of Tuscany, Paris and the Medditeranean!  Every time I wear that dress people comment on how lovely it is. 

This famous artwork was so famous it was printed on the wallpaper that adorned our toilet walls in Perth in 1976!  I spent hours sitting on the toilet so I could gaze at the dancing ladies and the men in top hats. How could I not wear this dress?

      

     I’ve been the beneficiary of two pairs of Birkenstocks (that do fit) she bought for $2 each from the op shop, countless pairs of discounted undies and bras (not from the second hand shop) and a slow cooker.  She often buys the kids clothes and shoes from the second hand shops.  When Bubu collects new items, I’ll gladly accept her old ones - kitsch salad bowls, any blue crockery, tea pots, wine glasses, pots and pans, lounge suites, coffee tables, beds.  That’s not hoarding.  She's a crazy collector, but not a hoarder.  There's a saying that women grow into their mother's, but I am damned sure that won't be happening!

     If Bubu does hoard anything, it’s books, literary and coffee table books, quality books.  This is not surprising.  She has an Arts degree majoring in English literature.  I also collect books and I am proud to say two of the five metres we freighted from TI were boxes of my books.  If anything should be exempted from the definition of hoarding, it should be good books, much like The Concise Home Doctor and The Collectors by Robert Carter.

     All this I thought about in the silence left by Tony and the kids’ because they were in Cairns helping Bubu sort out her collectibles, some of which I am hoping will return with Tony.  And the silence allowed me to remember I’d forgotten to buy the small stainless steel container with the plastic lid (I am into stainless steel ware) and the collection of classics, three-in-one volume, absolute collectors’ items.  I’ll have to ring the Salvos on Monday and ask for them to be put aside.