1. Ya Gotta Collect Something!


    It’s always interesting to me, and now you, when I find items in thrift stores that were obviously part of a collection…and then were donated all at once.


    Here we see not a big collection, but evidently a collection nonetheless.

    I consider myself fairly well-versed in the realm of tacky souvenirs, but the ceramic “I Got A Kick Out Of…” bottom-of-a-foot is a new one on me.  Thimbles, egg timers, oversized novelty pencils, salt & pepper shakers, mugs, shot glasses — I’ve seen them all as tourist trinkets.

    These things? Nope; never noticed ’em before.

    And yet, as we can see above, they exist.

    Too small for a spoon rest, not deep enough for use as an ashtray, they were maybe 3″ to 3-1/2″ long, so I don’t know if they served a purpose other than to gather dust as a knick knack.

    Why would someone decide on collecting these? Aside from the Guadalajara one, there’s very little in the way of variety — the others were probably cranked out by the same manufacturer (and “Recuerdo De Guadalajara” was likely made by some other company creating a mold from one).

    Were they just “cute” to the buyer, and purchased all by him or her?

    Or did he or she just buy one, and then — egads! — a visitor noticed it on a shelf in the den and later gave another as a gift after going on a trip…? And then someone else saw the then two of them…and gave one more and thus, the collection grew, quickly and exponentially metastasizing into something increasingly horrific with each well-meaning friend’s return from vacation…until finally, there were — dear God above! — seven of them?!

    And then what prompted someone to suddenly get rid of them?

    Seems unlikely you’re going to collect these, actively or passively, and suddenly experience a moment of clarity where you see them for the hideous things they are, and so out they go.

    Nope. Someone died. That’s my guess.

    Grandpa finally kicked the bucket and Grandma, perhaps feeling a little guilty (or perhaps not), quickly rid her home of them, the only lingering reminders of the concession she’d made to his foot fetish after she said no to letting him sniff her navy blue canvas slip-ons with the little red anchor on the top.

    Posted by on March 1, 2015, 9:08 AM.

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