Silly Temptations At Meijer

While strolling through the aisles at Meijer the other day, I decided to locate the dark recesses of the store where they just moved their card selections. This week the section has moved to the Star Wars toy aisle. A few weeks before, they were against the back wall, near fishing supplies. A few months ago, they were found in the checkout lane of one of the thirty plus lanes. I just had to figure out which one.

Meijer certainly loves to have me search the store for where their cards are. Asking employees rarely gets me answers. Most give e the quizzical puppy dog look, like I just asked them to list all the numbers in pi. Some will say, "When did they start making baseball cards again." When I inform them that they never stopped, I get another confused puppy dog look. Maybe they'll direct me to the bakery for pi.

My second wave of card collecting began in 1990. It wasn't exactly a banner year for most card releases, except for Leaf, but Donruss was one of the more interesting subjects. The red border with black paint drippings was a unique choice that should have paid off, but never quite got there. My freshman year art teacher was unimpressed, since I hawked the design for an art project. If I remember correctly, the design landed me a "C" and a note that I could do better if I applied myself and used my imagination. The critique must have worked because art was my third major in high school.

Even with the overproduction era stigma and the less than stellar design, I have a soft spot for 1990 Donruss. It was better than the previous two years and it would be leaps and bounds better than the next year's effort. Even though Fleer takes the cake for worst card design of 1991, Donruss was not far above that nadir. 1990's design intrigued my teenage brain enough to collect a lot of it. It may have been about collecting the Yaz puzzle or finding the Grand Slammers. Who knows. Maybe it was the feel of opening a cello pack and getting a brick of cards. It was probably a combination of all of those and more.

Part of me was very tempted to pick this up and relive my youth. I came to my senses when I realized that nothing that could possibly come out of that box would be a surprise or an asset to my life. It would be rehashing a memory for ten dollars. A short burst of joy followed by some disappointment, followed by a puppy dog look when I realize that I need to find a home for cards that I already have in abundance.

The thought of breaking a box of 1990 Donruss is more exciting than actually opening it. I found that out the hard way a few years ago in a repack box. I was thrilled when I saw a pack of 1990 Donruss. I found quick, empty joy in the pack opening, then crushing failure when I realized it was a false joy. I wasn't happy opening this pack. I was happy with the memories of a teenage me opening packs before knowing 99.9% of it was overproduced garbage. I already have those memories. Memories when this was a brand new product. I can use the ten dollars to make new memories with card packs that are new to me, not ones that I've rerun more times than Gilligan's Island.

It was tempting and Meijer almost got me. I resisted the urge and I am all the better for it.