When to Stop Collecting Things

Many years ago, so long ago that I've forgotten his name, so long ago that he called all the women in the office his "girls," though we ranged in age from thirty-something to sixty-something, I had a boss who collected tape cassettes of old radio shows. He was interesting in other ways, too. His five-minute rant on why he never ate chicken was breathtaking, and if I could remember it I would repeat it to you; it had to do with the quantity and toxicity of the chemicals the poor birds were stuffed with before they were offered for human consumption. The radio shows were particularly interesting to me, as a nostalgic child of the forties. They were harder to find in those days than they are now.

So when I came upon a source of them somehow—it might have been in Yankee Magazine, there was no internet—I naturally offered to pass on the information to Mr. Whatzisname. He smilingly declined. "Last year I turned fifty," he said. "I don't collect things anymore."

At the time I was not yet fifty, not even forty, and I collected things very happily whenever I had the money and the space. Sweaters. Dishes. Puppets. Musical instruments that I hadn't time to learn to play. The idea that collecting must come to an end in every life went over me like a bucket of ice water. It seemed tragic. I felt sorry for him.

Now I am no longer thirty, nor yet forty, nor even fifty or sixty, and I look at all the stuff I have collected over the years and think, not only is it time to stop, but it's time to get rid of a lot of it. Not the sweaters, of course. The moths take care of that. I can scarcely keep up with replacing what they spoil. Or the dishes. We have to eat off of something, and who wants to use the same old dishes day after day? But maybe the puppets. I haven't performed with puppets in almost thirty years.

My sister once bought me a set of Pelham puppets depicting Henry the Eighth and all his wives, collectible puppets whose strings are too short to make them good performers. At one time I was going to fit them up with longer strings and put on a show. I will not do that now. First of all I don't feel like it, and secondly it would ruin their monetary value. I can just hear the dealers on Antiques Road Show telling one of my descendants how much they would be worth, if only Great-Granny hadn't boogered up the strings.

In fact I would sell them today if I had a buyer. I have their boxes and certificates and everything. Furthermore I no longer think it's tragic to stop collecting what fascinated you once, not even tragic to lose interest in the passions of your youth. Not as long as you have new passions. I might have a passion for a stark and tidy living space, one where everything has a place and occupies it, preferably out of sight. I might go clean the kitchen now. Or I might put my feet up and listen to something from my record collection, which I will never weed, no matter how old I get.

© 2015 Kate Gallison

Irony: Folks Don't Always Get It

Robin's post on Monday about the uses of puppets made me aware of the Cleveland Action News 19 dramatization of the Jimmy Dimora corruption trial, which, being an easterner, I had never heard of before. I quickly looked up this phenomenon on YouTube, where many episodes of the puppet-reenacted trial can be seen. Here's another one:

I was struck by some of the comments from people who wrote in expressing disapproval of News 19's facetious approach to reporting the trial. They are horrified and outraged that this guy is so corrupt, and they can't understand why you're laughing.

Well, shoot, you might as well laugh. Yes, the guy is evidently totally corrupt, the lowest worm that crawls, like some people in my town, like some people in yours. It's an intolerable outrage. That's what art is for, one of the things anyway, to transform unbearable experiences into things trivial enough to digest without going crazy. That's what irony is for. That's what black humor is for. If we couldn't laugh we would have to succumb to despair.

I suspect it's a very Czech way to deal with things. The Czechs with their puppet shows and their impertinent attitude are the master ironists of Europe, I like to think. I should go there someday and see their puppets for myself. Cleveland, maybe not so much.

Kate Gallison

Puppets and Dolls: Not Always Playthings

In the Czech Republic there is a custom among many families to keep a set of handmade puppets from generation to generation. This custom began as far back as the Middle Ages when stone cutters who worked on the cathedrals would come home and, for recreation, carve puppets from wood that resembled the figures they created in stone. Many of the puppets had extra large noses and bulging eyes, because such exaggeration of features was necessary for them to be seen perched in the soaring ceilings of the churches. Through the years puppet shows became a staple entertainment in Czechoslovakia.

But during the German occupation these shows took on a new role. The Germans ruthlessly censored all forms of theater, but they overlooked the puppet show, thinking it too insignificant for their attention. How wrong they were. The Czechs used these shows to boost morale, nationalism, and patriotism among their people. The shows were even used as vehicles for transmitting important messages to members of the resistance which was very active during the German occupation.

Another example of dolls being put to a serious purpose, took place in New Hampshire in the 1940’s. A woman, Frances Glessner Lee, from a wealthy and prominent family, had time on her hands and she became an accomplished miniaturist. But she was not an ordinary miniaturist. Fascinated by crime, she reproduced crime scenes from homicides reported in the newspapers. The corpse was always a doll rendered in realistic detail. Somehow the New Hampshire State Police heard of her work and decided to hire her. They used her reproductions of crime scenes to train rookie policemen in the art of observation — a skill of great importance to policemen and detectives. She was made an honorary Captain of Police for her contribution.

Finally, just recently I read about a new use for puppets in this country. There was a court case that was closed to the press and all media coverage was forbidden. The usual custom in these cases is to hire a court artist to record the events for the public. In this case the news media tried something different. They had puppets made of all the major characters involved — defendant, lawyers, judge, jury, etc. — and performed scenes from the trial on television. The program was an instant hit, drawing a large audience. Maybe this will set a precedent for future trials.

Robin Hathaway