How Hawaii Helped My Stamp Journey

I had the incredible opportunity to visit Hawaii this month. I was always under the impression that Hawaii had this cliche' persona about it. (You know how Florida does? Yeah, like that.) The electric pink umbrellas in one's drink, shiny palm trees, tourists with sunburns and socks pulled up too high... I thought that was it. Hey, don't judge me, I live in San Diego. Why go somewhere tropical when the Mediterranean seaboard comes to us, you know? Anyway, I was in for a surprising enlightenment. Hawaii was not like that. At all.

One of our day trips was to a Farmer's Market in the hillside above Kailua, Kona, Hi. It was a gray and humid day and along our journey, we discovered this little place:

Discovery Antiques! It is located on one of the main roads that clings to the edge of the foothills above the sleepy little town of Kailua, Hi. I am standing in front of a hole-in-the-wall pizza place in which the proprietor yelled something about how four women parking in front of his front door was a prayer being answered... But THAT is another story. (I was told the pizza was good, though.)

We dodged some incoming traffic and walked inside. It was a cluttered and friendly place. The owner was the kind of person who knew his store. He bustled around, assisting us Hawaii gringos. A mental light bulb flickered to life over my head and then screamed at me.

"Why, I could ask to see some old postcards or envelopes... FOR STAMPS!"

Real brilliant, Marcie. Like I said, I'm new at this.

The owner brought some up right away. I flicked through and pulled out some that I thought my dad hadn't collected. As I was looking through, he brushed past the counter, stopped, look at my stack and said, "What are you looking for?"

A bit taken out of my reverie, "oh! Stamps!"

"You're a philatelist, then?"

My mind tried to register the word. I had not been called that before. It's a nice word to hear being called. "I am, actually."

He smiled and walked away. I turned back to my postcard-hunt and heard him say, "One second, let me find some more stamps for my friend..."

A few minutes later he had pulled out an old collection from what I can only assume was his attic stuffed full of goodies. The books felt humid and compressed, like they had been stacked under something heavy. I greedily pulled the book closer to me, respectfully opened the cover...

It was weird opening someone else's collection like that. My only experience is leafing through my dad's books. It felt very personal. This person had hand written each country's page with long and loopy cursive. They had taken a lot of time to collect these stamps. I wonder who they were, and why they collected stamps.

In the end, it turned out the owner collected stamps of his own: he specialized in British stamps. I settled on some stamps from a few countries I had not seen duplicates of. He placed them in a manila envelope and we sealed it with tape so they would stay protected. I walked out with the envelope hugged to my chest, smiling. My very first purchase on my own, I hoped it was a good one!

Sadly, we left Hawaii a few days later. Yes, it was that nice. And coming from a biased southern Californian this is saying something.

I am a bit surprised that I took the next step of my stamp collecting journey in a most unlikely place; on an island I never thought I would ever visit and a store I would have never walked into if it wasn't for a hungry pregnant friend. (Love you, Krista!) I am really thankful for the experience and for the owner of that store. He recollected his own stamp collecting journey as we leafed through the musty pages, the reminiscing about past lives came easily to us both. It was an immediate connection.

I have never really considered stamp clubs, or groups, or meetings, or whatever they're called, but now I think I would like to go to one and see what it's all about.

This Friday Judy, Josh and I are going to the San Diego Philatelic Library and getting some help with our own collection. Just one more step to becoming a legit philatelist.