Long-time readers will have probably already heard this story before, but for the rest of you, sit back and prepare yourself for a truly somber story about one boy’s collection and how he came to lose it…
When I was nine years old, I had a pretty decent collection of Star Wars action figures. Having a brother who was just two years older, meant we pretty much shared all our toys, so my Star Wars collection was his Star Wars collection too. It was a hot summer day in Kansas, and we were riding our bikes on the way back from the pool. The ice cream man passed us, ringing his bell, with a swarm of kids in tow. We pedaled even faster, to get home and try to pry a few quarters from our mom, for a sno-cone.
Mom wasn’t home, so no sno-cones for us. That’s when my brother had the brilliant idea of selling stuff to make money. Of course, the closest items at hand were our Star Wars toys. We threw them in a box and headed to the curb. Using a big red crayon, I scrawled “For Sale: Star Wars Toys” on the side of the box. I swear, it didn’t take more than three minutes for a car to pull up to the curb. A lady got out of her car wanting to see the toys, and we showed her the goods. She asked, “how much?” Of course neither my brother nor I had any clue how much the figures cost in the store, let alone how much we should sell them for, so we asked her what she was willing to pay. She offered a quarter per figure. We sold the entire box in under five minutes.
We just gave away almost 40 of our beloved action figures for under ten bucks.
At the time it seemed like a kingly sum. We ate son-cones every day for a week, but over time, the bitterness of that transaction took hold, and it has only festered for the last 30-plus years. I doubt my brother has any recollection of that day whatsoever, but to this day, I can’t look at a Kenner Star Wars action figure without that bitter memory floating in from the recesses of my memory banks.
I’m not the only one with a collecting regret. Check out these doozies: