When I was a kid I collected comic books, and was a fan of Marvel back into the 80’s. I guess every kid that buys them hopes that one day some of them would be worth something. I held on to them until recently and take them to a comic shop only to find them not worth anything. I kinda figured that they might not be worth it, so I gave them away.
My late father was a hoarder and we could never have a car in the garage because of the junk he accumulated. I would joke about it being my inheritance, and it was. The line he always used was, “It could be worth something, someday.” I hated when he said that. Some of the things were like the scrap metal, but most of it was junk.
What little I know of my dad growing up and the events that would cause it. He was in an iron lung for polio when he was a kid. Couldn’t see his family or his friends from school. Next traumatic was serving in the army during the Vietnam war and saw friends and squad mates die. He did his tour and came back home. Then his parents died: first his mom and then his dad.
What I have to say it I didn’t follow him. I didn’t hoard things.