My husband’s passions netted a heck of a lot of ‘stuff’. No, not just a few things – an entire room of them! Along with his legendary toy soldier collection, he also amassed authentic reproductions of antique planes, old tops and more marbles than the entire planet could play with. But his menagerie of little planes, soldiers and marbles kept the boy alive in the man I loved. Okay, it was a money pit but who can put a price on a passion? Or measure the innocent happiness it gave a guy who went through constant medical challenges. When Dr. Suess said said “Adults are obsolete children” he probably knew that sometimes child play is exactly that we need.
I am not wired with a collector’s brain. When I saw my guy’s glee over in yet another new soldier or collector’s marble, I confess it often hit my ‘crazy button’. In my world, especially during my time as a single mom, necessities always trumped disposable expenditures. There was no room in a home where three growing kids needed new underwear, sports fees or the million other endless expenses for the frivolous. Even as an empty nest boomer now, there still isn’t. But these days, I think more and more that maybe I just never had the yen for a passion. Like all busy mothers and wives, I never had much time to think about exploring my ‘passion’ but at my age now, it’s if not now – when?
The 64 thousand dollar question? What IS my passion? Sure my mind swirls constantly with tons of ideas. My DIY list is chock full of stuff I could, should, might be doing. Write a book? Why not? Unearth those colored pencils and illustrate again? I can do that. Take my ancestry search on the road to discover my roots? Learn to finally use my tricked-out camera? Yes, please. Every one is a passion contender, one that could easily become an obsession. Uh oh. Continue reading