If you collect as many things as I do, you end up with some stuff you’re not supposed to have. In this case, I’m not referring to stuff that is illegal or stuff that is unreleased. I’m talking about other people’s stuff. Personal stuff.
In a broad sense, the whole used market is a little bit bizarre when you look at it abstractly. As we live in a disposable culture, anything someone might buy has its own story. You don’t know how many hours were put into that dusty SNES with a five dollar sticker on it. How it contributed to sibling rivalries or became an item to bond over with the girl next door. We’ll usually never really know the extent of these stories.
Sometimes we accidentally inherit the stories.
In Philadelphia, there are many little second hand shops that line the grid-like streets. Tucked into corners, away from the tourist traps, these stores don’t feel like your normal thrift shops. These places lean a little more towards collectibles: antique books, crates of records, obscure (but not rare) VHS tapes- you get the idea. Some of these shops also sell photographs, but not of any famous attractions or curios of the city. They’re family photographs. Weird pictures of people posing outside their houses, sitting with their pets, or just acting goofy. Private pictures. Who would have ever thought they’d end up at a store somewhere?
So every one in a while, I buy a few. I have them scattered along the edges of my bedroom mirror. Who are these people? I’ll never know.
This concept doesn’t simply apply to pictures. From one auction, I got a lot of around thirty 7-inch tape reels. While a lot of them were simply recordings of the radio that could be played back for hours, some of them appeared to be homemade recordings. One I remember in particular appeared to be a recording of some sort of part, complete with almost unintelligible voices and faint background music. Something never meant to get out this far. A memory I own that isn’t mine.
Home movies are another area. On occasion, I’ve purchased VHS camcorders with tapes still inside. Rarely though will I find something captivating. Usually, there will be a short video of a newborn baby or the typical “I’m testing out the camera” tape where people pan around their living rooms.
Occasionally though, I’ll find something more interesting.
One flea market I frequent in Delaware usually has a lot of vendors from house clean-outs. They’re easy to spot: Giant rented truck with several dozen cardboard boxes packed full of everything imaginable. No rhyme or reason here: folded up clothes, kitchen appliances, weathered books, etc. Almost as though a family was packed away into boxes to be sold for five dollars a pop. Anyway, while most of these boxes are filled with junk, I’ve found my fair share of interesting objects from them. At one point, I came across a box of hand-labeled VHS tapes. I didn’t know what exactly they were, so I took them home and played them. I found myself with what appears to be recordings of an amateur band (or several) from the mid 1990’s.
So what did I do with them? After setting them to the side for some time, I decided it was best to transfer them and let people see them. Currently, I have one already online with more on the way. Here’s a link to go watch it. Who are these people? What’s the name of the band? I have no idea. The band might be named “Triple X” but nothing seems to enforce that. Maybe I’ll run across something as I keep going, or someone will stumble upon this video and recognize it. There’s a lot more footage to look through.
So this gives you something to think about. Be mindful of those little personal artifacts that you keep around. Those memories frozen in time. Who knows where they will end up one day.
And who knows if some 20-something punk will eventually put them on YouTube.