I’m obsessed with knickknacks these days. I’m at a stage in my life where I’m taking stock, so it’s one of the things I’m counting. We have lots of them. Little things that sit on shelves, counters, tabletops and dressers. Ornamentals. Dust catchers. Mementos. Whatever you want to call them we have them. Sometimes they even masquerade as collectibles, a thing of value.
I realized yesterday on the way to lunch with a friend, passing a so-called “antique” store, that they have a life cycle with a supporting sub-culture. There are stores that sell new ones. There are stores that sell old ones. There are storage units for them if you don’t want them in the house but can’t bear to throw them away. You can even sell them online to other suckers. A portion of our economy is dedicated to knickknacks. It’s utility is that it supports the need for inexpensive presents and a desire to take home a piece of wherever we’ve been.
So, I can’t say it’s all bad because I’m as guilty as the next person when it comes to collecting mementos. Maybe it fills our desire to collect trophies, to count coup on our enemies, to say look where I’ve been and what I’ve seen. Or maybe it’s simply a reminder of the good times, the times of our youth, the times when we had plenty of tomorrows because even today, in my semi-twilight I buy them. They’re little footprints in the sands of time just waiting to be washed away but enjoyed until then.
