I have maintained, apart from baseball cards, hats, music and shoes, only two real collections I can readily think of. In the early 70s my friend Ric DelaHoussaye and I went to swap-meets nearly each Saturday. He was so cool. He was always buying exotic old tools, retro car parts, furniture knobs, intersesting denim for patches to his jeans, and such. I had so little money. I had to find inexpensive things I could look for to justify my existence amongst all the other swap-meet hippies. I landed on old, unusual bottles and cheese graters. I still have both collections. Less than a dozen graters and exactly 7 bottles. The bottles stand proudly on a shelf, part of my desk hutch. Somehow, through over thirty moves and 40 some years, they have stayed with me. As if to say, "You became a new creature. But this is all still wonderfully part of you. Your tastes didn't die at the Cross. He let you keep some of them." The cheese graters are up in the attic I imagine. One day, many years from now, a great-grand-daughter will be looking through several boxes of memorabilia of my life. She will stumble upon the rusty cheese graters and say to one of her grandparents, "He must have been a very, very odd man." And the grandparent will say, "He was indeed. You would have liked him, I think. But yes, he was a very, very odd man."