When I was a little girl, I presumed that everybody collected stamps. Please note that collecting is not having some sheets of Mickey Mouse from The Maldives. Even as I grew older and collected the Officials from the 1800s, it did not seem unreasonable that postal history was a common hobby. As my collection grew with used and proof sets of each department, fancy and hand cancels of all varieties, and many unique covers (that's right, nod your head and take another sip of drink), While I held a certain reserve of pride to be considered a "serious" contending exhibitor with a nice array of medals, there was still the assumption that there was a broad knowledge, even if people did not choose to read up on rare cancels at the age of 13. OK, maybe I was a /little/ odd.
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Time passed and while I realised that my exposure to stamps was a bit stronger than the Average Joe, there was something a little surreal about going into the Smithsonian's Postal History Museum and easily explaining nearly all the exhibits with a rather extensive history. You may not be able to see it well, but when I actually saw the Kicking Mule stamper on exhibit, I gasped loudly, dropped my bag and started an anxious process of getting the perfect photo with a mere iPhone. I was initially unaware of others around me, but did slightly become conscientious with my little scene. This may not be the best time to expose deeper nerdiness by owning a rather old book that expounds on the history of the Kicking Mule cancel (Yes, I'm capitalising Kicking Mule). While I have never been interested in the Crown Jewels, there may have been minor consideration on how to nick the stamper.
When I got to the stamp exhibit room, I nearly passed out when I saw the hand cancel exhibit. Having owned every single type of cancel on exhibit plus more, I felt a little smug. There was a slow realisation that my stuff WAS cool! It's in the Smithsonian after all. The video below will help you share in my rapt excitement and recognition.
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I think the moment of true smugness really hit me when I saw, under glass, the book in the photo. All I could think was, "but that's at home on my shelf." Mostly because it is. It took several seconds for me to realise that it wasn't my book, but apparently it was cool enough for the same edition to be presented here at the Postal History Museum.
Clearly I was far cooler as a teenager than I possibly had previously realised.
Some sarcasm applied.
Some relief definitely present.
An enlightenment of how much my mother knows about all kinds of stuff.
