My friend Nancy has over 300 Santa decorations.  I’m not sure the exact number, and I don’t think she knows either.

Growing up in a Jewish home, I had a great fascination with Christmas decorations.  Our neighbors seemed to put amazing efforts into stringing lights in their front yards and decking out fragrant pines or faux fir trees, to occupy half of their living rooms.

Every year, some of my girlfriends get together for a Christmas party at Nancy’s. Everyone brings appetizers and wine. Nancy makes a main dish and takes out her crystal.

We eat in the dining room.

After dinner, we’ll indulge in cookies and banter and participate in our yearly grab bag. 

This year, we had trouble figuring out how we would handle our grab bag.

We had a wine exchange for years, then we tried re-gifting; each person wrapping something they received as a gift and never used. To the best of my knowledge, I don’t think anyone re-gifted anything received during our annual holiday grab bag.

We discussed the idea of exchanging consumables like chocolates or nuts.

We didn’t reach a consensus this year and were all incredibly cool about going home with whatever was brought by a friend and chosen according to a picking order decided by drawing numbers printed on tiny green paper Christmas trees.

Some of us still brought wine to exchange.  I combined two themes used in past years.  I brought fancy candies that were gifted to me and sweetened the deal with extra cozy chenille socks.

When it was her turn and Nancy pulled an interesting bottle of red wine from a colorful, handled bag, she knew immediately who brought it.  She asked our friend, Anju, if the bottle came from her husband’s collection.

Anju smiled at being identified correctly then went on a short rant about her husband’s history of collecting wine, a habit that brought him joy for many years. Under recent doctor’s orders to limit wine intake, it seems that his collecting pastime was being replaced by thoughtful gifting.

“I don’t understand men liking to collect things” she confessed, as if it was only a male problem.

I considered how common it was that people didn’t understand someone else’s passion for collecting a certain type of thing. Classic guitars or vinyl record albums or dolls or Delft plates or stamps or coins or cars or shoes – it can be hard for some to understand why someone else would spend so much time and money to make collecting a focus of their lives.

Collectors often don’t use and enjoy what they collect.

And besides…They’re just things!

It was funny that I found myself thinking about this.  Here I was, hanging out with friends for an annual event that started because of the expanse and whimsy of Nancy’s Christmas collection and came to mean so much more to me.

I almost didn’t make it to the party.  My car was leaking oil, and I was afraid to drive it from the city to the ‘burb where Nancy lives.

After a tearful conversation with her from my car, ready to give up on making the trip entirely, my famous cocktail meatballs and spinach squares in a tote bag next to me, she promised to COLLECT me from the commuter station nearest her house.

I decided to take a series of trains to make it out to Riverside. It took about 90 minutes to the end of the line.

I called her from two stops before the Forest Park Station.  She had the seat warmer for the passenger seat on.  Two friends, also guests at the party, offered to drive me all the way home even though I lived out of their way.

I experienced collecting in a different sense. In the company of my friends, when I was unsure of myself and scattered in my thoughts, they assured me that my presence was important to them and that I would be taken care of.  They helped me collect myself.

Appreciating being gathered by the force of friendship is no small thing.