90 Pounds of Childhood Baggage

My childhood collection of baseball, basketball, Olympics, football, and Yo MTVRraps cards took up a big blue plastic tub and weighed about 90 pounds. I started collecting in the late 80s and stopped in the mid 90s. In the bin some cards were loose, but many were carefully tucked away into plastic folders and protective boxes. From Michael Jordan to Bo Jackson, these cards represented a childhood endeavor to invest my hard earned money not in candy and Doritos, but in items that I thought were investments that would accrue in value over time. I imagined selling a full set of 1991 baseball cards for a few hundred dollars so that I could buy something really cool. I would eventually be able to see a single card and buy a car. Who knows what my dreams were, but I felt at the time that what I was doing was responsible. I was investing and saving, like an adult. Even though I was collecting cards, I could care less about professional sports. I would rather play than watch, so I knew very little about the players, rivalries, or trades. It was a kid business.

Yesterday I took my 90 pound tub to a local card shop and laid out all the folders and boxes on a couple long tables. With a quiet spoken, young, sports card expert, we looked through what I had. I didn’t have high expectations, but I knew there were some great cards in there. 1970s Rod Carew and Reggie Jackson were there, a full 1992 USA Olympic Basketball team set, or maybe something I didn’t know about. He looked through it all.

So, why did I know how much this plastic bin weighed? Over the years since I left home at 18, my mom and grandparents would discover a box of cards that I collected and added them to the bin. It was moved from my side of the duplex to my grandparents small storage shed in their backyard. It got heavier and heavier over the years as we added more cards, magazines, and random collectables. With my mom gone and grandparents deceased, it was one of the last things of my childhood in the shed so this latest trip was partly a reconnaissance mission. Identify the cards, pack up the cards, bring the cards back with me. I knew how much it weighed because my plan was to put this giant tub on the plane, so I had to know how to distribute the weight. I stepped on the scale first, figured out my weight, stepped off lugged up the bin and stepped back on the scale. The difference between me and the blue bin was about 90 pounds. In order to fly home with the treasure trove of cards, I needed to separate and lighten the load.

Lightening the load included figuring out what cards i had and bring them to a local card shop and sell them. Laura found a card shop that specializes in sports card so we sorted and scanned cards in our hotel room for a couple hours. At the end, I had a baseline understanding of what I had and figured, I could take her out to a nice dinner and maybe get myself something fancy as well.

How does a child buy 90 pounds of sports cards? Back in the day, I mowed laws and collected recyclable stuff. I had a routine for my grandfather mowing his yard and our duplex’s yard almost weekly. I enjoyed this work and it paid well. I also took care of their pool. In my neighborhood, I learned that I could gather cans and bottles from neighbors and on the weekend, I could get someone to take me to the local recycle to get my load weighed. Usually it was my.mom taking me and she would allow me to work directly with the scrap metal recyclers. The pay fluctuates based on the price of aluminum or glass at the time. I don’t remember passing a sale and always walked away with a nice chunk of bills and change. All the money I would gather went into a blue lockable safe that I had in my room. I would roll the coins, take them to the bank, I would gather dollar bills and exchange them for larger bills too. These sports cards were paid by cut crass and recycled Coca-Cola cola cans. It’s my estimate that I spend under two thousand dollars on all my cards…wait, no, I had invested under two grand.

With all the cards on the tables he quickly rifled through them. With care and precision, he checked out what I had. I couldn’t.tell what had piqued his interest until the end when he attacked a small pile of cards in plastic cases. Of the 50 or so cards in that small pile he set 3 aside. He went back to the few folders left and thumbed through them rapidly and quietly. When he was done with every pile, stack, folder, and box of cards he came back to the three cards he separated out, took them to the side and pulled out his phone. He researched these three cards much like what I did back in my hotel room.

After a few..minutes of research, he look up at me and said that “these cards still hold some value.” I heard two things, these 3 cards from the 90 pounds have value AND the other thousands of cards are practically worthless. He went on to say that one card was maybe 20 dollars, another was 5 and the other was also 5. He didn’t want to buy them or anything I laid out in front of him. He explained, much like the owner did to us in an earlier conversation that practically nothing from the late 80s and 90s had any value. I had a full set of baseball cards and he pointed out that they also had a few full sets of the same cards, seals, and they were only $15. I didn’t expect much, but I really didn’t expect this. He suggested we put them on eBay and see what we could get. I was disappointed and sad. I thanked him for helping us and for being nice about what I had collected. He thanked me in return and shared that most men flip out when they hear that their childhood collection amounted to little to nothing monetarily. It agreed, it was hard to hear.

We packed up the blue bin, put it back on the rickity furniture dolly I borrowed from my uncle and reloaded it back into my car. Loaded and ready to go I couldn’t help but laugh…this fucking sucks. Not really for me, but for little afro wearing me, little Shai. I was responsibly collecting in the best way I knew how at the time and trusted adults and a system to return my investment. I was caught in a scheme as a child. I based a lot of my care and responsibility off of this childhood work. I look back on little me and gave him a hug, told him it’s okay, and that I would take great care of him from here on out.

“What do I do with these cards?” I thought as I drove away from the card shop. He said I could donate them to a boy’s and girls club or just throw them in the trash. I didn’t want to make this decision now so we went to a bar in Old Town orange and got me a flight of whisky. Life is silly and sad at the same time, what’s my lesson?

I wanted to trash them, pull the cards that I desired to keep and trash the rest. I didn’t want to think about this baggage I’ve been carrying and hanging hope on. It’s too heavy and I don’t want to raise my expectations. The next morning would be the final day that this baggage was in my possession.

We woke up, checked out of our hotel, and drove to my Uncles house to drop off the furniture dolly we borrowed. He asked me what happened to the cards and I responded with just a look at him. He knew and understood. We hugged, said goodbye and see you later and took off with the cards still in the back of my rental car. Laura convinced me not to throw them away at his house because he might keep them so I decided to try the local salvation army. Either they would take them or I would find a nearby dumpster.

I drove a few blocks to the local salvation army pick up and pulled up to the drop off area. No it was present and I was just going to sneakily drop the bin on them to handle. I’m sure someone would be happy to take them. A gentleman strolled out of the pick up trailer and I asked him if they took sports cards. He replied yes, I think so, but then went back and asked his manager. Upon returning he said yes they take them so I unloaded the cards into the table he had there and opened it up for him to see them. He was astonished and thanked me for my donation.

“Do you need a receipt?” He asked as I walked back to the car. “No thanks!” I replied with the immediate thought of how a thing must have a money value in order to be given a receipt. The value I take from this is deeper than money. It’s life experiences, joy in collection, and wisdom to know what to do with the baggage I’ve collected over the years. As we drove away I thanked the cards, told them I loved them, shared my sorry with them, and forgave them for not becoming a trade able treasure. It wasn’t in the cards for my cards.

We drove away slowly and I pulled over quickly, still in the parking lot but around the corner. I want a picture with my cards, like I would have with a childhood celebrity, so I ran back to find tow guys looking through the cards. When I got there one of them joked, “I found a Michael Jordan rookie card.” We laughed and I assured his, “Oh, I already took that out!”

I asked one of the guys to take a photo with me and the cards. I stood next to the box and found a random card to hold up as a sign from the past. Standing there with a Vlade Divac Skybox card I was happy to have unloaded this baggage. No should have to hurt me, now was the time to pass this basketball to someone else.

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At Empathy Lab, I’ve defined baggage, as life’s weights that we take on as we live. Baggage comes in different forms that counteract the energy we create. Energy typically comes from physical mental, emotional, and spiritual experiences and the baggage we carry manufests when we are losing energy, missing energy, or when people control/steal our energy. These basketball cards represented a type of baggage that had many forms of baggage wrapped together. When I originally purchased these cards they were energy.given because they provided me joy in the moment. Pride that I could spend my hard earned money on them. Emotional energy to see them cared for. Mental energy knowing that this was more than a silly waste of money, it was an investment. So much energy that over time disappeared and because baggage. They no longer brought me joy to have, store, or move. The work that I had to put in to brining energy back into each of these cards was not an investment that was worth me using additional energy. This was a cut my losses baggage scenario where there was only ONE person’s emotional grief to deal with, my own.

I am sad yes. I am also very relieved. Yes, I probably lost potential money, but my life is not lived to maximize money. My life is lived to maximize the experiences I can have by myself and with others. This is a me investment scenario, something I’ve realized over time that I am not good at. I tend to wait for others to invest energy in me that don’t want to while being with a few that are ready, willing, able, and happy to trade energy in me right now. These cards couldn’t give me the energy I needed or desired, so it was time to peacefully and thankfully move on.

((Written on my phone at LAX and while flying back home to Atlanta. Misspelling and bad grammar run wild my pretties!! Fucks given to your grammar policing, zero. Fucks given to your love and support, infinite.))