Sometimes It Really Is Just Junk

I did something yesterday that I have not done in a long, long time.  I went into an "antique" store.  I write "antique" because when I was a kid these places would have been called second-hand shops or flea markets.  Antique was not a word applied to old Coke cans or Smurf figurines.  Things are different in the 21st century.  In a world full of euphemisms, antique now means anything used that the seller wants to unload.
My absence from the world of flea markets, oops, my bad, antique stores had nothing to do with a dislike of shopping.  I actually enjoy looking through stacks of old CDs or books in the hopes of finding a real treasure.  To be honest, antique stores, at least the ones like I went to yesterday, just freak me out.  They give me a feeling of sensory overload.  There is simply too much stuff to look at.  Then I start thinking about where all of these items came from, and what happened to the 3.2 million other Alf dolls that used to be in peoples homes but is now priced to sell for $45, and how in the world did one culture make so much garbage, er, antiques?
There are three antique stores within a block of each other not far from where I live.  I paid a visit to all three yesterday.  Why, I don't know.  I think I was looking for something and it crossed my mind that these stores might be the place to find it.  I was wrong, or a least I never found whatever it was I started out looking for.  What I did encounter was thousands upon thousands of things - furniture, books, dishes, DVD's, family pictures from the 19th century where everyone looked absolutely miserable (which is not that different from most family photos today), cans, jewelry, and, my personal favorite, those old jelly jars that had cartoon characters on the sides.  You know, the ones you used to pay like a $1.50 for in the grocery store and now, sans jelly, will run you $5 each.
In one cabinet was an old Six Million Dollar man doll.  This particular homage to Lee Majors was not in a box nor was it in mint condition.  The previous owner appeared to have gotten at least Five Million Dollars worth of their Six Million Dollar Man.  Yet there he was, right next to his rocket ship (which looked as if it had seen more than a few trips to the moon) ready for someone to buy him up.  Provided, of course, that they chunk over $15.  When I saw the price tag I about freaked.  I had one of those dolls as a kid and brand new it cost less than that.  Why would anyone pay that kind of money for a beat up action figure?  Then again, why would people pay for most of the stuff in these stores?  Call it will you will, but sometimes junk is really just junk.
I think that what must drive the "antique" industry (besides a desire for money) is nostalgia.  People go into these stores and see things that remind them of the past, of happy feelings and memories.  They buy things in the hopes that the doll or picture or record will help reproduce something powerful that is missing in their lives.  Antique stores remind me of that scene in Field of Dreams when James Earl Jones tells Kevin Costner that if he keeps the baseball field people will come and willingly pay $20 a head because they are longing to connect with something in the past.  Of course today it would be more like $40 ($24.99 for the kids 12 and under) but it is amazing what nostalgia will make us do.
I respect the power of nostalgia and understand the role that memories play in our lives.  I just wonder if sometimes we get so caught up in recapturing a feeling that we start to do some really silly things and I don't just mean overpaying for a well worn action figure from a 1970s TV show.  Sometimes we allow the past to block out the present and future.  We ignore what is going on around us and end up turning our current life altering experiences into junk that we just throw away. 
God is at work in our lives all of our life.  Yes, let's remember the glories of the past (which is why God invented DVD's so we could watch entire seasons of The Six Million Dollar Man) and buying a trinket or two to help us do that is fine.  But also celebrate now and look forward to all of the wonderful blessings that God has lined up for you in the days ahead.  They may not produce the same emotions as I felt on my 8th birthday (when I got my Six Million Dollar Man action figure) but then again Lee Majors has nothing on what I experienced when I met my wife or when my three kids were born.
I have no idea what it will feel like when my children graduate from high school and college (though my wallet will feel much lighter) or when I retire or get to be a grandparent (which better not happen anytime soon!) Will I find something in an antique store that will remind me of how I felt on those days?  Perhaps...oh, who am I kidding, most likely not.  I will indulge my feelings of nostalgia in different, less costly ways. 
Give thanks to God for the past.  Just don't get lost in it...and try not to get overcharged when you want to remember the good old days!