Giving: So Easy, Yet So Hard (plus a trade with Tom)

*Apologies for the gap between posts. A big part of the reason why I only write on recreational basis rather than professionally is the tendency for energy and focus issues to disrupt the flow that allows me to write about topics at length. There will likely be other periodic gaps in the future, so I thank you in advance for your patience on those occasions.*

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The dynamic of giving vs. receiving has always been one that I have found intriguing. When we are young, it is drilled in with great frequency that the former is better than the latter and for good reason. While, speaking from a psychological perspective, young children typically initially have a worldview that is very self-oriented in nature, these still lessons tend to take hold at a good rate and a spirit of generosity is fostered as individuals develop. When I was younger and still celebrated holidays such as Christmas, the concept of giving often caused me issues. I wanted to come up with and provide tremendous gifts for those about whom I cared, but was often vexed by theory of mind issues when it came to what others would like/want. I reckon that simply asking what my loved ones would like might have solved those problems, yet that removed the surprise aspect of gift-giving and sort of killed the premise for me, in turn making me feel like I was failing in some regard.

1992 Topps - Frank Thomas

Of course, giving has additional meanings besides simply doling out gifts or making financial donations. Giving of oneself is another prime manner of offering something of benefit to others in an effort to provide aid, one that has largely defined a great deal of my adult life. While I am technically a professional coach, teacher, and tutor, it still feels odd - bordering on wrong - to be receiving money for helping other people. This is particularly true when it comes to families that I consider friends, as the notion that friends simply help out their friends without the expectation of compensation is one that has always made sense to me. After all, I have provided instruction on a volunteer basis for decades, so why should now be different? Of course, society does not solely function via people helping people, as nice as that it would be to see a far greater focus be placed on giving and helping rather than taking. The idea of taking - even if framed in a softer manner such as the initial idea of "receiving" - is still largely unappealing and one that I am reticent to do. Giving of myself takes much more energy, mentally and physically, but is far more rewarding, to the point that I have often thought that my "destiny" is to give of myself until everything is exhausted. Does that sound healthy? Probably not, but those thoughts remain from time to time.

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While giving as a concept has always come very easily to me, it interesting to look back at the instances in which it proved to be vexing. The aforementioned theory of mind issues with regard to bestowing gifts still exists, to the point that I have to be extremely sure as to someone's likely reaction before giving a surprise present of any kind. Oddly enough, another area of giving in which I really struggled while growing up was when it came to trading baseball cards. Growing up in the 1990s, baseball card collecting was still popular enough that I could find plenty of kids with whom to prospectively swap cards in my neighborhood, at camp, and at school. Although we lived in the height of the Beckett price guide era that helped contribute to cards being defined by monetary value rather than emotional impact, it was not until my short foray into online trading in which the tedium of balancing deals by perceived financial worth emerged. As an aside, this dynamic largely killed my interest in doing anything with my card collection other than keeping it locked away, which is a little depressing.

1992 Pinnacle
Mackey Sasser

No, my issue with trading cards was not financial in nature, but rather that I simply found it extremely hard to part with any cards, no matter what I would be getting in return. There are many psychological reasons as to why decision-making and willingness to part with things can be extremely difficult, concepts that I do think applied (and still apply) to me when it came both to being willing to give away pretty much anything in which I placed any measure of value. It is also inherently illogical to overvalue one's property over that of others, yet it is a common psychological process on display whenever someone says that their favorite team should be willing to take calls about trading its replacement level #5 starter - but only if the other team is willing to trade its five best prospects in return.

As such, I was not a very good trading partner when I was a kid. Not due to being a haggler for value or anything of the like (driving a hard bargain takes levels of energy and aggressiveness that I really do not possess), but more out of decision paralysis. 'Sure, I would like those cards of various Mets, but if I trade this Frank Thomas card, then I will no longer have this Frank Thomas card. That would be bad, right? Not sure that I can do this.' That general dialogue played out in my head so many times, that bothering to try to work out swaps were often fruitless ventures. Therefore, I usually ended up keeping that Frank Thomas card and others like it. Maybe they are still in boxes or pages, maybe they were long since discarded. Either way, they did not benefit those who would have enjoyed them more than I did and a collection became more of an accumulation.

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Shortly after starting up this blog, I came across a post by Tom at Waiting 'til Next Year in which he noted the view on the card collecting hobby that had turned me off in the past. In contrast, Tom extolled the virtues of individuals collecting their own way and enjoying the experience, backing up that notion by offering cards from select sets from the 1980s/1990s to those who would like them. In return, Tom merely asked for what one thought to be a fair return, whether it be help for sets that he is building, cards from his favorite team (Chicago Cubs), or anything else.

As is my wont, it took me multiple days to work up the nerve to make a reply on the post. While I have a strong attachment to the 1991 season (which will surely be noted in future posts) and had great interest in building multiple sets from 1992 that I greatly enjoyed when I was younger, my negative trading experiences popped back up in my head. Now it was much less about any unwillingness to part with what I had, but rather whether I merited such generosity or if what I could deliver in return would be good enough. After much hesitation, I opted to take a shot and reach out. I am very happy that I did.

2014 Panini Prizm
Rusty Greer (autograph)

Tom, a fellow, high school baseball coach, could not have been a more welcoming or generous person with whom to communicate. I had the 1992 Topps set in mini form when younger as well as most of the regular cards from that time period that were worn out, yet now have nearly the entire set thanks to Tom's package alone. I have always loved the photography and clear design of 1992 Topps, while 1992 Pinnacle (the other half of the package) had an intriguing front design complete with black borders with a nice headshot photo on clean backs. Tom also took time out of his vacation to think of me, some random individual that he had barely interacted, as he acquired and sent separately an autographed card of Rusty Greer, one of my long-time favorite players. Such generosity was mind-blowing to me and is much appreciated, one that made it all the easier to give in return to the best of my ability. Finding cards that mean something to other people gives me the same kind of positive sentiment that comes from other types of largesse or volunteering of time/services, which was a nice bonus and a feeling that will hopefully recur as I try to turn my accumulation into a collection.