FAREWELL TO A VERY YOUNG COLLECTOR

Even though we never lived on the same continent, my young nephew Eric and I kept in touch via e-mail and got on well when our paths crossed. We had quite a few things in common, just one of which was an interest in stamps.

            We both did a lot of cycling, played drums, had an irreverent sense of humour, liked writing and words, collected rubber bands in a large ball (when very young, of course), liked camper vans, often took the path less travelled and even carried the exact same type of shoulder bag at one point.

            We also liked watching and playing sport, although he was an ice hockey player and I always opted for tennis. It is a dangerous admission to make for a writer for a Canadian publication, but I had never been to an ice hockey game until I got the chance to see Eric play.

            He taught himself how to skate to he could compete at an advanced level and was a quiet but determined and resourceful player. One of the most exciting sporting contests I ever attended was one of his Richmond, Virginia, league games in which his severely undermanned team took on a much bigger squad in terms of the number and brawn of players.

            As well as I can remember, Eric’s much more skillful team ran up an 8-1 lead, partly thanks to a goal or two from him even though he was mainly on defense. But the other team’s coach substituted his players methodically to wear down the outgunned opponents. The strategy worked, for Eric’s team only had two spare players, one of whom was a plucky but small girl, and Eric played virtually the whole game. The other team gradually ground out the goals as Eric and the other players ran out of steam, taking a 9-8 lead. Then, against all odds, Eric’s exhausted team scored to level the contest. It looked like they might pull out a draw, but then the visitors scored the winning goal with seconds left. 

            It was, of course, a moral victory and one that Eric treasured. He went on to play for the Richmond travelling team and was philosophical about the fact that it was not very successful.

            Some of our common interests just had to be the result of genetics. That he collected stamps, for instance, was a source of wonder to me, for neither of his parents had any real interest in them, and no one in any branch of the family talked much about the hobby.

            At first, like many young collectors, he accumulated stamps of the world as he could find them. Then, to my astonishment and pleasure, and with no guidance from me, he switched to collecting hockey stamps and covers. I often found items for him but he was shy about showing me his collection or discussing it.

            Once when I went to Richmond for a travelling national show he came along. He expressed satisfaction with the visit but didn’t talk much about what the acquired. We were fortunate in that a good local stamp shop was not far from where he lived, and a couple of times he accompanied me there, although mainly in search of supplies. This once gave me an ideal and welcome chance to buy him a birthday present, for which he was grateful.

            When I occasionally took material to shows for vest-pocket dealing, he would ask me how I got on and was amazed that I could sell a decent amount of covers and cards in a few hours.

            He was a good student and well informed about current affairs, attributes that I would like to think were helped by stamp collecting.

            I tried to show an interest in his collecting, yet not shape it nor go on about what he should collect and not collect and how he should go about it.

            Our long-distance relationship was an example of how a hobby such as stamp collecting can help bridge geographical and age gaps and create unlikely alliances. Stamp collectors can travel the world and, if they so desire, meet like-minded people of all ages, nationalities, personalities and depths of pockets. Stamp collecting is often seen as a solitary hobby, but stamp collectors never have to be on their own if they don’t want to be.

            Now, however, I am very sad to say that Eric’s album is closed. The news that he passed away just a few weeks after his 19^th birthday was among the heartbreaking I’ve ever received.

            Our friendship, while rarified, would have been much poorer without stamp collecting.

            I will forever miss him. I will never know which of his many interests might have taken him where.

            And I will never, ever look at a hockey stamp or envelope without thinking of him, and pausing at least for a few seconds in his memory.

            Eric Dylan Neighbor, 1997-2016