The Willow Glen Resident Photograph courtesy of Cookie Curci-Wright Card Luck Story: Like other collectibles, baseball cards evoke memories of the 'good old days.' Buyers share collective case of nostalgia By Cookie Curci-Wright Like myself, many Americans seem to be caught in the grip of nostalgia fever. It's the reason hockey great Wayne Gretzky paid $451,000 for a Honus Wagner baseball card, and why collectors are paying megabucks for Barbie dolls, Howdy Doody puppets and other toys from their childhood. Nostalgia, loosely translated, is the desire to return to the roots of yesterday. The word nostalgia comes from the Greek words nostos, to return home, and algia, a painful condition--thus, a painful yearning to return home. Art Deco from the 1920s and '30s is hotly sought after these days, as is that spunky Fiestaware that moms used to set 1950s-era supper tables. Tin windup toys from the 1940s and '50s also are in demand. However, these pop-art jack-in-the-boxes are no longer for kids. Today, they're only within reach of adult pocketbooks. The Hula Hoop turned 40 last year, inspiring collectors to remember the days when kids all over America were gyrating in these plastic tubes, participating in national contests and Hula Hoop derbies. Nothing more than a plastic ring, this simple toy continues to attract the collector. During the Hula Hoop craze of the 1950s, 100 million of those plastic rings were sold. That means almost half of all Americans owned one at some time--which explains why they continue to turn up at garage sales and thrift stores all over the country. Though short-lived, one of the hottest crazes of the 1970s was the Pet Rock. Millions of people shelled out $5 apiece for the pleasure of placing this low-maintenance conversation piece atop their office desks. The "rock" still pops up at flea markets every once in a while. And in 1983 the Cabbage Patch doll came on the market, and millions of parents lined up at storefronts hoping to buy one for their kids in time for the Christmas holidays. Today these oval-faced dolls, worn and tattered, continue to pile up on thrift-store counters, where they wait for collectors who want to buy back a piece of the past. There once was a time when nostalgia was thought to be a type of mental illness. In fact, the Oxford English dictionary, in the early 1800s, defined nostalgia as a treatable disease of the mind. Today, that opinion has changed considerably, and the desire to remember things from the past is believed to be therapeutically beneficial and can even help ease life's little anxieties and transitions. Most of us eventually experience these feelings of nostalgia. As the years pass, we yearn for a less complicated society and reminisce about lost youth and innocence. Listening to a 78 rpm record played on Grandma's old Victrola or spinning a scratchy 45 rpm on a hi-fi turntable rekindles memories of a seemingly happier world. It's this desire for elusive, magical moments from yesterday that motivates collectors. In our desire to hold onto a piece of our past, we've become a country of collectors, spending our weekends looking for bits and pieces of our childhood at yard sales, thrift stores, flea markets and antique shops. Always on the lookout for that special item, collectors faithfully peruse the weekend garage sales or the local "junque" stores in hope of finding a treasured item: a Roy Rogers tin lunch pail, a rare Beatles album, a Nehru jacket, lava lamps, cathedral radios, platform shoes, Formica tabletops, rhinestone jewelry, Barbie dolls, etc., etc. My first experience as a baseball card collector made for a bad start. I was browsing in a card shop some years ago when a Nolan Ryan rookie card caught my eye. The price read 999. Not knowing much about rookie cards, I assumed the price was nine dollars and ninety-nine cents. I casually instructed the clerk to ring up the sale. A moment later he turned to me and said, "That will be nine hundred and ninety-nine dollars plus tax, Ma'am." I almost fell through the floor. My red face and shocked expression told him it was "no sale." From that day on, I made sure to read up on my baseball memorabilia before attempting to purchase another rookie card. On feelings of nostalgia, I'm inclined to agree with Oscar Levant, who issued this insightful quote: "Happiness is not experienced, it's remembered." [ Back to Contents Page | Willow Glen Resident Home Page | Archives ] This article appeared in the Willow Glen Resident, November 11, 1998. ©1998 Metro Publishing, Inc. All rights reserved.