When my sisters and I were kids, Dad set each of us up with postage stamp collections of our own. He took philately – the $5.00 word for stamp collecting – seriously and hoped we would, too. He was partially right in that I enjoyed my collection, but my sisters less so. Dad would acquire his stamps by buying or trading them, or having friends save envelopes with interesting stamps, mostly foreign ones. He’d soak the stamps off later. At that time, collecting was a long standing national craze and participants abounded. I could go on about how absorbing the hobby was. Given my limited number of words for this article, I’ll spare details and focus on what I included in my attached painting.

I was fascinated by how much information was printed on the pages to which I affixed the stamps. Each country had a paragraph on its history and a picture of its flag. I learned where countries are located geographically, what their currency was and who their rulers were. I also appreciated seeing the colorful images of different sizes, shapes and themes.

When I started as a collector, a United States first class stamp for one ounce of mail was 4 cents. Imagine, only a few pennies – no more – to send a letter anywhere in the U.S. and essentially be guaranteed it would arrive about when expected. Today the price is 78 cents and rising again soon. What we call “snail mail” comes with a reduced assurance of timeliness of actual delivery. 

I’ve entitled this article and my accompanying painting “Highlights.” Parts of Dad’s trove truly impressed me. His American collection was basically missing only the highest priced stamps within sets, but then many serious collectors didn’t have those issues either, particularly the 50 cents, $1, and $5. For quite a while, Dad owned all the stamps issued by the United Nations, in mint condition (i.e. unused). Yes, you could buy the stamp and mail a letter directly from the U.N. in New York. He also had mint copies of probably all the stamps of the first Armenian Republic, 1918-1920. Dad purchased a collection that included many stamps issued by Nazi Germany, which, when combined with his own holdings, made for a tremendous cache, albeit I admit I tired of seeing Hitler’s face. At least, collecting taught me who Hitler was.

I was excited, and I’m sure Dad would have been as well had he lived longer, when William Saroyan was commemorated in 1991, ten years after his passing, with a U.S. postage stamp. Through a unique program, the Soviet Union honored Saroyan jointly at the same time. Saroyan was special to me in several respects. He had a long run writing for the Armenian Weekly. He’s also the American author I’ve probably read more than any other. And I had the pleasure of meeting him serendipitously at his home in Fresno, California. I was trying to arrange a ride to Los Angeles with a friend, when the fellow said he had something to drop off at Bill’s house. Let’s just say that when he answered the door in his booming voice, he was dressed in much less clothing than I expected. When Saroyan’s stamp officially came out, the issue priced at 29 cents, I bought perhaps 20 sheets of 50 stamps. I licked those stamps until I ran out of all but one of the sheets. Had they been Forever and self-sticking stamps, I would have saved a small fortune.

Advertisement

Alas, the bottom’s fallen out of the philatelic juggernaut, both in value and interest. I sold the collection a few years ago because I didn’t want to move to my new home, the heavy steamer trunk full of thick volumes. Dad, you must have recoiled. Sorry, but know that writing about you is infinitely more important to me than your physical collection of stamps ever could have been.