I’ve never even logged on to eBay, I thought as I dusted the sports room.

I’ve never sought out a Flea Market (willingly), I realized as I picked up the kid’s coins from the floor.

I’ve never subscribed to a magazine or purchased a book enlightening me on the values of antiques, I pondered as I grabbed a coke from the garage refrigerator covered in Wacky Packages.

These disturbing omissions in my resume made me wonder how on earth I could intelligently contribute to a collectibles site.

In my boxed little mind, I pictured a collector as one who meticulously scans garage sales in search of an unburied treasure. Someone who can rattle off recent auction sales and the current value of a Fiestaware teapot. Some dedicated soul with eyestrain and glue-laden fingers from applying stamps to a leather-bound book.

Continuing my reluctant housecleaning, muttering over the amount of stuff there was to dust; it occurred to me that I had many collections around my home that were of value; even though there was no dollar amount applied to them in a journal somewhere. I have no idea of their net worth, but it never crossed my mind to assign them any because these items were not things we actively sought, just happened along as souvenirs of our life.

At that moment came the Oh-I-Get-It-Now forehead slap. It dawned on me then that perhaps I was looking at the pursuit of collecting in the entirely wrong way. “Collecting,” is just a impressive word for surrounding yourself with the personal things that make you happy. The worth of that is priceless. Maybe there are many less obvious, but just as valuable assortments of the everyday out there to discuss.

Polishing off that ice-cold soda, I felt much better. I now felt qualified to contribute to this site as I, like all of us, collect souvenirs of life.