Collecting Isn't About Stuff... It's About Memory

There’s an object you wouldn’t throw away even if nobody else wanted it. Not because it’s valuable, but because it’s loaded with time. We dig into why collecting hits so deep, starting with a simple idea: the things we keep aren’t really “things” at all. They’re touchable memories, anchors to who we were, and proof that a moment happened.

We walk through the progression many collectors recognize, even if they’ve never named it. Star Wars action figures start as pure world building, then G.I. Joe turns a bedroom into an engineered battlefield, and a sibling turns the story into a negotiated campaign that can last for days. Transformers adds a new layer when Optimus Prime becomes more than a toy and starts to shape identity, pride, and belonging. From there, music flips the script. Vinyl 45s and cassette tapes teach focus, ritual, and emotional connection, leading to album collecting, deep listening, and the pull of completion when you start tracking an artist like Madonna across releases and formats.

Then comes the hard question every hobby runs into: “What is it worth?” Baseball cards reveal the split between collecting for value and collecting for meaning, and once you feel that difference, you can’t unfeel it. We take that insight into fandom and community through Firefly, the Browncoat identity, Serenity models, and a seven-year autograph mission that proves the point in the most human way possible. Finally, we talk about adult collecting as curation: fewer pieces, better pieces, and sometimes screen-used props and wardrobe that feel like a physical continuation of the worlds that shaped you.

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Transcript

Objects As Anchors For Memory

The First Thing You Loved

World Building With G.I. Joe

When Toys Become Identity

Music Changes The Collecting Instinct

Chasing Completion From Madonna To CDs

Baseball Cards And The Value Trap

Firefly Turns Fandom Into Belonging

Adult Money And The Shift To Curation

The Real Point And Your Story

SPEAKER_00 0:02

There's something in your life that you wouldn't throw away. Not because it's valuable, not because anyone else wouldn't want it, but because of what it is to you. Maybe it's something small, something worn down, something that doesn't even make sense anymore. But every time you pick it up, you're not just holding that thing. You're holding where you were. You're holding what you were. And what life felt like at that moment. And I don't think we talk about that enough. We talk about collecting like it's about stuff, like it's about value, like it's about having more than someone else, but it's not. Because the things we keep aren't really things at all. They're anchors, they're they're memories we can touch. And if you really think about it, you don't collect objects, you collect moments. And the question isn't what do you have? The question is what are you holding on to and why. There's something different about the first thing you have ever loved, and the first things you've ever loved. Not liked, not enjoyed, loved. Because when you're a kid, you don't separate things the way you do as an adult. You don't say this is entertainment, you don't say this is a product, you don't say this is something I own. You just feel it. And for me, that started with Star Wars. But more specifically, it started the moment I held it in my hand. Luke Skywalker, X-Wing pilot. That bright orange suit, and I can still see it. Not just the figure, but the room, the light, the feeling of being small in that moment. And somehow holding something that felt bigger than me. And what's interesting is at that age, I didn't think this is a collectible. I didn't think I need to keep this in good condition. I didn't think, what is it worth? I thought, what can I do with this? And there's such an important difference because what I was doing wasn't collecting, it was world building. And that's the thing I think that gets lost when people talk about collecting. They skip over that part. They skip over the phase where the object isn't just an object yet. It's a tool, a gateway, a starting point. Because when I had that figure, my room stopped being my room. It became something else. It became a battlefield, a galaxy, a place where anything could happen. And I didn't just play for a few minutes. I built things. I constructed scenarios, I created rules, and then broke them and then rebuilt them again. There was no structure, no limitation, no concern about whether something made sense, and that freedom is something you don't fully appreciate until it's gone. Because as an adult, everything has rules, everything has context, everything has logic. But as a kid, you can have Luke Skywalker fighting someone he never met in a in a place that doesn't exist for reasons that don't matter, and somehow it's perfect. And it didn't stay in that room. That's the part that really sticks with me. I took those figures everywhere with me. And I mean everywhere. Car rides, stores, restaurants. And if you really think about that, that's not normal behavior for an object. That's not how you treat something that's just a toy. That's how you treat something that feels important and comforting, familiar. It's like carrying a piece of your world with you into places that aren't yours. And looking back now, it's probably the first time I was collecting. I just didn't know it yet. And then something happens that expands everything. Not not replaces it, expands it. Because one thing is never enough when you're a kid. One becomes two, two becomes ten, and for me, that next expansion was G.I. Joe. Now this is where things got bigger. Not just more figures, more structure, more organization, more scale, because Star Wars felt like stories I was stepping into. G.I. Joe felt like stories I was creating, and that's the difference there. With Star Wars, you're borrowing something. You're playing inside something that already exists. You know the characters, you know the world, you know what's supposed to happen. But with G.I. Joe, you start becoming the one in charge. You're not just recreating, you're inventing. And sure there was a cartoon and whatnot, but that didn't come along until a little later, you know, and so it was still fluid. The characters weren't as well defined, you know, and that's when the room changes again. It's no longer just a galaxy like it was in Star Wars. Now it's a battlefield. And not just a small one, I mean a full-scale operation. Uh the floor isn't enough anymore. Now you need height, you need terrain, you need obstacles, and suddenly you're using everything around you. Chairs become structures, tables become bases, bed sheets become entire environments. Draped over furniture to create cover, shadows, elevation, and you don't think about how it looks, you think about how it functions. That's something I don't think we talk about enough. As kids, we weren't decorating, we were engineering. Everything had a purpose. The chair wasn't a chair anymore, it was a lookout point. That stack of books wasn't random, it was terrain. And once everything had a role, you start building systems. And then something even more important happens. You're not alone anymore. My brother comes into the picture, and this is where it shifts from imagination to interaction. Because now it's not just you deciding what happens, now there's someone else, someone with their own ideas and their own rules, their own collection. And that's where things got interesting because I had G.I. Joe and he had He-Man and the Masters of the Universe. Now, logically, this makes absolutely no sense. These worlds aren't connected, these characters don't belong together, the rules don't align, the scale doesn't match, none of it works. But none of that mattered at all. Because when you're a kid, you don't care about canon. You care about continuity. You care about what feels exciting, what feels fun, what feels like a good story, and suddenly you've got G.I. Joe fighting He-Man. Military strategy colliding with fantasy power, completely different tones, merged into one shared world. And that's where something really important happens because now the story isn't just yours, it's negotiated. You want something to happen, he wants something else, you have to figure it out, argue it out, adjust, compromise, or just completely change the direction. And those moments, they weren't small, they weren't, they weren't throwaway, they were intense. Because to you this mattered. You weren't just playing, you were invested. And these weren't quick sessions either. That's another thing people forget. This wasn't play for 20 minutes and move on. These were ongoing campaigns. You'd set something up, walk away, and come back to it later. Pick up where you left off, continue the battle, evolve the story. And that's something that's really hard to replicate as an adult. The idea of something existing, waiting for you to come back to it unchanged. Because as adults, everything resets. Everything moves. Everything demands your attention somewhere else. But back then, that battlefield stayed exactly where you left it. The story stayed exactly where you paused it. And when you came back, it was like no time had passed. And I think that's part of what made those moments feel so big, so complete, so immersive. Because you weren't splitting your attention, you weren't distracted, you weren't thinking about what was next. You were fully there. And when I look back now, that's what stands out. Not the figures, not the setups, not even the stories themselves. It's that feeling of being completely inside something without interruption, without awareness of time, without any sense that it wouldn't last forever. Because at that age, you don't think about endings. You don't think about growing out of something, you don't think about what comes next. You just assume it's always going to be there. And in a way, that's what collecting tries to hold on to. Not the object, not the thing, but that feeling. And then something happens that changes the way you see what you have. Not how you use it, but how it feels to have it. Because up until this point, everything had been internal. The stories were yours, the worlds were yours, the experience lived inside your room, but now something enters a picture that changes that. Other people. Not in the sense of playing together. You already had that. This is different. This is awareness. Because now you start to realize something. Other kids have things too, and not all things are equal. And that's where Transformers comes in. Because Transformers weren't just figures, they were something else entirely. They moved, they changed, they transformed. And that alone made them different, more complex, more impressive, more special. But then there's a specific moment, I can still feel it. Getting Optimus Prime, the original one for my birthday. And there's something about that moment that hits differently because this just isn't excitement. This just isn't I got something cool. This is I got the thing. The one everyone knows, the one everyone talks about, the one everyone wants. And in that moment, you become something else. You become the kid who has it. And that changes everything because now the object isn't just meaningful to you. It's visible, it's recognized and validated. Other kids see it, react to it, talk about it. And suddenly you have what you have says something about you. And this is where collecting shifts again, because now it's not just about the experience of having something, it's about what that thing represents. Not in a shallow way, not in a look at me way, but in a very real, very human way. Because when you're a kid, you don't have a lot of ways to define yourself. You don't have a career, you don't have a lot of accomplishments, you don't have a long history of experiences. So what do you have? You have what you love and what you have. And those things start to feel and become part of your identity. You're the kid who loves Star Wars, you're the kid with G.I. Joe, you're the kid who has Optimus Prime. And that last one, that one carried weight. Because there's a difference between liking something and having the thing that represents it. And that feeling, that mix of pride, excitement, and just a little bit of disbelief, it sticks with you. And I think this is where collecting starts to connect to something deeper. Because now it's not just about imagination. It's not just about play, it's about recognition, not just from other people, but from yourself. You start to see yourself differently, not in a dramatic way, but in small subtle ways. You walk into a room knowing you have something that matters. You feel a little more confident, a little more certain. And again, this isn't about ego, it's about belonging, because having something like that connects you to a larger group. Everyone knows who and what Optimus Prime is. Everyone understands why it matters. And now you're part of that shared understanding. And that's something collecting continues to do even as you get older. It connects you to people, to communities, to shared experiences. But at that age, when you're a kid, you don't think about it that way. You just feel it. And if you really think about it, that moment, that birthday, that feeling, that's one of the first times something you owned made you feel seen. And that's powerful because once you feel that, you don't forget it. And in a lot of ways, you keep chasing that feeling. Not consciously, not intentionally, but it becomes part of the equation. Because now when someone comes into your life, you don't just ask, Do I like this? You start to feel, what does this say about me? And that question, even in a very quite quiet, subconscious way, changes everything. And then something happens that doesn't replace what came before, but changes the direction of it. Because up until this point, everything I experienced, everything I could see, I could touch, I could move it around, control it, build with it. And then music enters the picture. And music doesn't work like that. You can't move it, you can't stage it, you can't put it on a battlefield. You can only experience it. And that's a completely different kind of connection. Because instead of building worlds outside of you, the music starts building something inside of you. And I didn't realize it at the time, but this was the biggest shift yet. This is where collecting stops being about interaction and starts becoming about absorption. The first musical things I remember collecting were 45s. And if you've never seen one, a 45 is a small vinyl record that was seven inches across, one song on each side. The A side is a main track, the one that gets played on the radio. And depending on how old you are, you remember the radio. It's the track that people recognize. And then there's the B side. That's the extra. And sometimes the B side didn't matter much, but sometimes that's where the interesting stuff lived. And what I remember most about 45s is how intentional they felt. You weren't just hitting play on a playlist, you weren't skipping around, you chose a song. You physically placed the record and lowered the needle and you listened. That's it. There was no multitasking, no background noise. You were either listening or you weren't. And that kind of focus does something. It makes the moment feel heavier, more important, more memorable. Because effort creates connection. And that's something we've almost completely lost. Then for me came cassette tapes, and this is where everything starts to feel more personal. Because now you're not just collecting songs, you're collecting albums. A complete experience, and there's a rhythm to it, a physical rhythm. You press play, you listen, you rewind, you flip the tape, and that process, that repetition, becomes part of the experience. It's not just a music you remember, it's the act of listening. The click of the button, the sound of the tape turning, and the slight delay before the song starts. All of that gets stored right alongside the music itself. And again, you don't realize it at the time. But that's memory building itself, layer by layer. I have a friend of mine at work that I talked to who is considerably younger than I am, and he is into collecting vinyl and cassette tapes, are a real big thing for him right now. And I share stories of how I had a Walkman that would go ahead. Now, Walkman was a portable cassette player, you put your cassette in and play, but I had it. It was a black GE Walkman, and it was really cool to look at. And it had earbuds instead of over-the-ear type of headphones. And it would, when the batteries got low, it would eat, quote unquote, eat the tapes. It would uh unwind them faster than it could wind them back up. And so I'd have to get a pencil out. And you guys of a certain age know that you get a pencil out and you stick it in one of the one of the gears on the tape and you turn it to go ahead and catch the tape up and avoid ruining everything. But I digress. So with cassettes, it was the first time I owned an album. And so the first album, the the first one that is like this is mine, for me, that was Thriller by Michael Jackson. And that moment feels just as big as anything that came before it, because this isn't something you play with. This is something you return to over and over and over again. And each time you hear something different, you notice something new: a sound, a lyric, a feeling you didn't pick up before. And that's when something shifts again. Because now you're not just consuming something, you're engaging with it. You're listening. I mean, really listening. And this is where music becomes something completely different from toys, because toys you control, music you respond to, it affects you. It changes your mood, your energy, your perspective. You hear something and suddenly you feel something you didn't expect. And that's powerful because now the object isn't just something you own, it's something that interacts with you. It becomes part of your emotional landscape. And that's where collecting starts to deepen in a way that's hard to explain because now you're not collecting things that represent worlds, you're collecting things that represent feelings. And that's when fascination starts. You don't just like the music, you start paying attention to it, how it sounds, why it sounds that way, what it's doing. And without realizing it, you start to listen differently, more closely, more intentionally. And that shift is going to matter later a lot. Because once you start listening that way, you can't go back. And then something shifts again. Not suddenly, not dramatically, but noticeably. Because up to this point, everything I had collected had come to me: birthday gifts, things I stumbled into, things that were available, but now I started going after things actively, intentionally. And for me, that moment showed up in a very specific way, and that way was named Madonna. Now, this wasn't just another artist. This felt different because Madonna wasn't just music. She was presence, she was image, and she was constantly changing. And that meant something, even if I didn't fully understand what it meant at the time, because suddenly this wasn't just about liking songs. It was about following something, keeping up with it, being aware of it as it evolved. And that's where collecting becomes something new. Because it's not enough to just have one album. You want all of them. Every release, every version, and you don't even think about it as obsessive. It just feels right. Like you're filling in a picture, and every piece you add makes that picture clearer because now you're not just listening to an artist, you're tracking them. And that changes your relationship to what you're collecting because now it's not about moments, it's about continuity. And this is where collecting taps into something deeper, the idea of completeness, of having everything, of not missing anything. And that feeling, it's hard to explain if you've never experienced it, because it's not about perfection, it's about closure. It's about knowing I didn't miss a part of this. And that's incredibly satisfying if you're a collector, even if you don't consciously think about it that way. At this point, everything I had from Madonna was on cassette, and cassettes still carried that same ritual, rewinding, flipping, listening through, straight through. It was tough to skip around. You experienced it almost every time as a whole. And that reinforced the idea of the album as a complete piece, not just a collection of songs, but something designed to be experienced in order. And then the format changes. Compact discs. And this is one of the most fascinating moments in collecting because suddenly everything you have feels like it belongs in the past. Not emotionally, but physically. There's a new format, a better format, cleaner sound, no rewinding, instant access, and without hesitation, you do that something that on paper makes no sense. You start over. Same album, same artist, different format. And at the time, that didn't feel strange, it felt necessary. Because collecting isn't logical, it's emotional. You're not replacing something, you're upgrading your connection to it. You're saying, this matters enough to me to experience it again in a new way, and that's a powerful idea. Because when you look back at that, it tells you something important. This was never about convenience. If it was, you would have just kept the cassettes. It wasn't about saving time, it wasn't about efficiency. It was about presence, about ownership, about holding on to something that represented something meaningful to you. And now when you step back, you start to see the pattern. Star Wars figures, G.I. Joe, Transformers, Music, Madonna, different objects, different phases, but the same behavior. Something enters your life and you decide this matters. And once something matters, you hold on to it, you build around it, you return to it, and eventually you define part of yourself through it. And this is where the next shift is coming, because now you've experienced imagination, identity, connection, completion. And what comes next is something that challenges all of it because eventually someone asks a different question. Not what is this to you, but what is it worth? And that changes everything. And then something happens. That doesn't feel like a big shift at first, but looking back, it absolutely is, because up until this point, everything I had collected was personal. It mattered because it meant something to me, but then I got into baseball cards, and on the surface, it looked exactly the same. Another thing to collect, another set to build, and another world to get pulled into, but this one was different. Not right away, but quickly. Because for the first time, the conversation about collecting wasn't just about what you had, it was about what it was worth. And that changes everything because now the questions sound different. How much is that one worth? Is that a good card? Is it rare? And those questions, they shift the focus because now it's not about your experience of the object, it's about how that object is seen by everyone else. And that's completely that's a completely different lens. Because before, if you liked something, that was enough. Now that's not the whole equation. Now it has to be valuable or recognized or approved. And even at that age, I remember something about that not sitting right. Not in a dramatic way, but in a quiet, almost in instinctive way, because suddenly not just looking at the thing anymore, you're measuring it. And that changes how you interact with it because when you measure something, you create distance from it. You stop experiencing it, you start evaluating it. And those are not the same thing. Because the moment something becomes about value, it starts to lose something else. It it loses that simple, pure enjoyment. The moment of sitting there, flipping through something, not because you're checking its worth, but because Because you like it. Because it reminds you of something, because it it feels go feels good to hold it. And I remember realizing that's what I actually liked. Not the value, not the rarity, not the idea that something might be worth more later, just the act of going through it. Because there's something about that moment that's easy to overlook. You're sitting there, maybe on the floor, maybe at a table, and you're just flipping through what you have, card by card. And every once in a while something stands out, not because it's rare, but because you remember it. You remember when you got it, you remember how it felt, and that's the part that matters. And that's when something starts to click, not fully, not in a way you could articulate at the time, but you could start to feel it. That's what you're doing. It isn't about collecting objects, it's about collecting moments. Because each one of those cards, even if nobody else cared about it, had a story attached to it. And that story is what made it valuable. Not the price, not the rarity, but the memory. Because this is the first time you see the difference between two kinds of collecting. Collecting for value and collecting for meaning. And they are not the same thing. And once you feel that difference, you can't unfeel it. Because you start to recognize it everywhere, not just baseball cards, but in everything. And this becomes important later. Because as you get older, you're going to have more access, more money, more opportunity. And that question is always going to be there. What is this worth? But now you've already felt the answer to a different question. What does this mean to me? And that's the one that actually matters. Because once you understand that, collecting changes again, it becomes more intentional and more personal. And eventually it becomes something even bigger than that. Because at some point you just stopped collecting things and you start chasing experiences. And then something enters your life that doesn't feel like anything that came before it. Because up until this point, everything had been phases. Star Wars, G.I. Joe, Transformers, Music, Baseball cards. Each one mattered. Each one shaped something, but they were still moments. Then came Firefly. And this wasn't just a moment. This was something you stepped into. What's interesting is I didn't find Firefly when it originally ran on TV. It had already been gone, canceled, and finished four, maybe five years before I ever saw it. And that changes how you experience something because you're not discovering it in real time. You're discovering it as something that already means something to people. And when you step into that, you can feel it. You can feel that this mattered, that something about this stuck with people, and then you watch it and you understand why. And that's that's when where a term comes in. Browncoat. If you don't know, that's what fans of Firefly call themselves. And it comes from the show itself, from the soldiers who fought on the losing side of a war. People who didn't win, didn't get recognized, didn't get celebrated, but didn't let go of who they were. So when someone calls themselves a brown coat, they're not just saying, I like this show. They're saying, I'm part of this. And again, that matters. Because this is the first time collecting becomes belonging. And once that connection is there, everything changes because now you're not just enjoying something, you're drawn into it. You want more. Not casually, intensely. And that's when collecting shifts again. Because now you're not picking things up when you see them, you're seeking them out. And at the center of everything was the ship, Serenity, the Firefly class transport ship. And if you've seen the show, you know that ship isn't just a vehicle. It's a home. It's the constant. It's the thing that holds everything together, and that makes it different. Because now you're not collecting an object. You're collecting something that represents a feeling. So I started collecting models of Serenity, different versions, different sizes, different levels of detail, and each one felt a step closer. Not to completion, but to a connection. Because each version, each version showed you something new, a different angle, a different detail. And that matters when you care about something deeply. And then eventually you get to something that feels different, the crown jewel. A version of serenity built by Hollywood special effects artists. Not just a model, but something crafted with the same level of care as the things you see on screen. And when you look at it, it doesn't feel like a replica. It feels like a piece of that world. And that's a different level of connection. And then something else returns. Autographs. But not like before, not random, not just interesting, focused. The Cast of Firefly, the Crew of Serenity, and this time it wasn't just about having them. It was about completing something. And that's when it becomes a mission, not a hobby, not a phase, a mission. To meet every member of the crew, to get an autograph, to get a photo, to create something that didn't exist yet, a complete experience. And this is where it becomes real because it didn't happen quickly. It doesn't happen easily. It takes time. Seven years. Seven years of planning, traveling, tracking appearances, going to conventions across the Midwest, waiting in lines, coming back again after you miss someone, adjusting, trying again, and every time you get one, it matters. Because it's not just the autograph, it's the moment, the interaction, the experience of being there. Because now collecting isn't passive anymore. You're not just acquiring something, you're earning it through time, through effort, through presence. And every piece of that collection has a story attached to it. Not just I bought this, but I was there. And that's powerful. And eventually, after years, it happens. You complete it. Every member of the crew, every autograph, every photo. And that moment, it's not loud, it's not dramatic, it's quiet. Because what you're feeling is something deeper than excitement. It's fulfillment. And you still have it. An autographed steel book copy of Serenity, signed by the cast. And when you look at it, you don't see signatures. You see seven years. You see where you went, who you met, what it took. And that's when it becomes undeniable that this was never about collecting things. This was about collecting experiences. And this is a moment everything connects. Because now you can see it clearly from Star Wars to G.I. Joe to Transformers to music to baseball cards to this. Again, it was never about the objects. It was always about the connection. And this is a most complete version of that idea. And then something happens that changes collecting in a way nothing else does. You grow up. And that sounds simple, but it changes everything because now you have access, not just to more things, but to different things. More importantly, you have choice, real choice, because for most of your life, collecting is limited by what you can get birthdays, holidays, luck. But now you decide, and that introduces a completely new layer. Because now you can go after something and hope, not hope to get it, not stumble into it, to choose it because you have adult money. And at first that feels like freedom, unlimited possibility. But then something interesting happens. You realize you don't actually want more. You want better. And that's a shift that doesn't get talked about enough. Because when you're younger, collecting is about accumulation, getting as much as you can. But as you get older, it becomes about intention. What stays, what goes, what matters enough to take up space in your life. And that's not just a practical decision, it's an emotional one. Because part of that process means letting things go, and that's not easy. Because those things, even the smaller ones, still carry memories. They still connect to moments. So when you decide to sell something, you're not just getting rid of an object. You're deciding this isn't the version of that memory I need to hold on to anymore. And that's a hard thing to do. But it's also necessary because it creates space, not just physically, but mentally. And this is where collecting becomes something else entirely, becomes curation. You're no longer asking, what can I add? You're asking, what deserves to stay? And that's a very different mindset. Because now every piece has to earn its place. It has to mean something and it has to represent something. And that's where the collection evolves again, because now you're not just collecting things related to something you love, you're collecting things that are directly connected to it. Screen used wardrobe pieces, artifacts, things that existed inside the thing that you experienced, and that changes everything. Because now the connection isn't symbolic, it's physical. Because there's something different about holding something that was part of something real, a piece worn in a film, a prop used in a scene, something that was there. And when you bring that into your space, it doesn't feel like a representation. It feels like a continuation. Pieces from films, wardrobe worn by Jennifer Lawrence and Silver Lining's playbook, items connected to artists like Lady Gaga and Amy Winehouse, autographs tied directly to real moments in their lives, and from the outside that that can look like status, like value, like rarity, but that's not what it is. Because the reason those pieces matter isn't because of what they're worth, it's because of what they represent. Because now you're not just remembering something, you're connected to it in a tangible way. You can see it, touch it, revisit it, and every time you do it brings something back. Not just the memory, but the feeling of that moment, and that's where everything finally aligns. Star Wars figures, G.I. Joe, Transformers, music, baseball cards, Firefly, autographs, all of it. It's not random, it's a progression. Each phase building on the last, each one teaching you something, even if you didn't realize it at the time. Because through all of it, one thing stayed exactly the same. It was never about the object, not once. It was always about the moment, the feeling, the connection. And now when I sit back and look through the things I've collected, I'm not evaluating, I'm not thinking about value. I'm not thinking about rarity, I'm remembering why I wanted it, what it meant at the time, who I was, when it became important to me. And that's when it becomes undeniable. Collecting isn't about stuff it never was. We don't collect things, we collect the moments that made those things matter. This has been this won't teach you anything. If you enjoyed this episode, leave a rating and review wherever you listen. It genuinely helps more people find the show and share it with someone who collects something or someone who used to. And don't forget, you can text the show directly from the Buzz Sprout episode page. There's a link right in the description. Tell me what you collect and what it means to you. Until next time, listen closer because sometimes the things we hold on to are really just ways of holding on to who we were.