collection

Everyone I know collects something. Comic books, movies, books, music. My mother collected teapots. She had several stoneware teapots that had been in the family since her grandmother's time. She had other collections over the years, of course: clowns, dolls, Christmas ornaments, Dr. Seuss books. Once she let us know that teapots were her new favorites, we made sure her collection was enlarged on almost every birthday or other special day. Lovely ceramic teapots, artful pieces that were absolutely too nice to ever use. By her death on January 2, 2001, she had over 25 teapots in her collection. Most graced shelving in the living room, shelving built specifically for them, with new shelves added as her collection grew.
And all of this popped into my head this morning as I was watching VH1 with my coffee. (Yeah, yeah, bad habit watching tv whilst dining.) I was enjoying the countdown of top videos, a show with a fairly obnoxious host, but great videos, and I was pretty much using that as a background for my breakfast and planning out my day. Then I stopped. A video had come on for a song I was glancingly familiar with, thinking it was about love lost. What I realized when I actually listened to ALL of the lyrics: the love was not merely out of sight, but gone from this planet, making them visible never more. I can totally relate to that. I seem to be sensitive to such songs these past few years. You could say I collect them.

The Airborne Toxic Event: Sometime Around Midnight