It\’s been almost two years since I updated the wall hanging in my card room. It\’s the one that displays 16 cards of my choosing.
The first two editions of the wall hanging have been pretty random, basically cards of the past that have some sort of meaning to me. And since cards touch a wide range of moments in my life, that is covering a lot of territory.
To be honest, I haven\’t been happy with that arrangement.
I thought I was. But with each time I entered the card room, I grew more and more tired with the cards on display. I just didn\’t feel a connection. It was much too random, I don\’t collect in a random nature. I need at least a little bit of order.
So, today, I did something about it.
It occurred to me that there is a group of cards that I possess that would be perfect to display on a wall. And, no, they\’re not shiny, they aren\’t expensive, they weren\’t scribbled on by players, but they mean more to me than any of that.
Of course, I\’m talking about the cards I saved from my first year of collecting in 1975.
This is what the wall hanging looks like now:
That is much more like it.
Each card comes from the same time period and each one is dripping with meaning, moreso than virtually any other card in my collection. I will never forget what it was like to be a 9-year-old boy, thanks to these cards.
Previously, these cards were in their own binder. I\’m not one of those people who thinks binders obscure people\’s collections, but in this case it did seem like an injustice that they weren\’t out in the open. So now they\’re out for everybody to see (because the lines to my card room are enormous).
The only problem is those aren\’t the only cards that I saved from that year. For example, it\’s really bothering me already that the Dick Ruthven card up at the top — one of my favorites in 1975 — is not in the display.
So I\’ll probably do some quick updating before it goes back on the wall.
Or, better yet, I will find 3 more of these things and hang them all up, as an ode to the cards that got me started on this journey all those years ago.
It will also come in handy if anyone says to me in that accusatory way — “why do you still collect baseball cards?”
I will proceed to march them to my house, march them to this room and point vigorously at this display.
“THIS” … I will say … “is why I collect baseball cards.”
And then they better brace for a 30-minute soliloquy.