This as-told-to essay is based on a conversation with Celina Myers. It has been edited for length and clarity.
When I was a little girl, I remember having birthday parties at my house and taking my friends down to our basement to see my mom’s huge collection of tiny figures, neatly organised in typeset trays hanging all over the walls. Our entire 1000-square-foot basement had been turned into a sort of antique warehouse.
It all started when my mom was 14, in the early 70s. Her friend had been given a typeset tray and put little items in it. My mom wanted to do the same, so she went to a garage sale and found a tray like the one her friend had.
Courtesy of Celina Myers
Each birthday, her aunts would gift her $2 to buy a charm for her charm bracelet, but instead of buying a charm, Mom would buy a miniature for her tray.
One after another, typeset trays filled. And this is still happening even today.
My friends love to see the collection
As a kid, my friends loved coming to our house because they wanted to see the collection in the basement. They all jumped from hole to hole to see what new miniature she had added most recently.
My personal favorites were the Spice Girls dolls, crazy bones, and old playing cards. I loved the nostalgic ones most, the ones I remember buying with mom.
Although mom never stopped us from looking at her special finds, she always said that we had to look with our eyes and not touch with our fingers.
Courtesy of Celina Myers
It never occurred to me that her collection was weird. In fact, I thought she was this really cool mom who everyone loved.
Every Saturday, my mom, grandma, and I would head out to the garage sales to find new additions. We called ourselves the Three Musketeers. We’d scan all the knickknacks to see what we liked, what we didn’t have, and what would fit in the typeset box compartments.
Mom also went to antique shops, and I’d add my own Happy Meal items.
It was a family adventure.
This is collecting, not hoarding
We never got rid of anything, but I wouldn’t call this hoarding. I’d call it collecting, because she displayed everything beautifully, always making sure the miniatures were dusted.
When I think about the future of clearing out this space when she’s no longer with us, I sometimes feel intimidated. But she finds so much joy in her collection, and I wouldn’t ever want to ask her to downsize what she has on display.
Courtesy Celina Myers
I’ve told her that one day, I want to open a museum or a breakfast restaurant with her collection behind Plexiglas. I’d call it Joanne’s. Everyone can enjoy it then — that’s what she wants.
Each miniature is a piece of my mom that means so much to her.
She still finds joy in her collection
In the last few years, she’s become severely disabled, and one of her greatest joys throughout has been describing exactly where and when she found a particular miniature, and the story behind it.
Since she can’t get out easily to garage sales and antique stores to find miniatures now that she is in a wheelchair, she loves using Facebook Marketplace and Craigslist. She’ll find something she wants online, and Dad will pack up the wheelchair, and off they go to collect the knickknack.
Courtesy of Celina Myers
After I posted a video of her collection on Instagram, there were 12,000 comments, and mom wanted to read each one. She loved it.
I’m planning to open a PO Box and then post a YouTube video asking people to send her collectibles, along with a note explaining the item and its story.
I know she’ll sit for hours, looking at what’s been sent to her and enjoying the letters that accompany it. It will light her up, make her so happy.
