Turtles, Turtles Everywhere
by Ellen Resnick
I’m not an obsessive neatnik, but I like things orderly: I pay bills the day I receive them, throw away unread magazine articles after a few weeks, and keep my desk relatively clear. Similarly, I like space in my home, eschew clutter, and steer clear of tchotchkes.
That was before a fateful trip to Hawaii when I decided to collect turtles. It was on a narrow, winding street in Maui that I laid eyes on the first piece of my now massive turtle collection. On that back road, my husband and I watched in wonder as a local artisan made quick, precise cuts in a wooden figure to create the boxed design of a turtle’s shell. As we admired the foot-long turtle in the making, I asked the craftsman, “Why are there so many turtles in the stores of Hawaii Hawaiian Islands (in fact, we had seen some the day before), but I had the sense that there was more to the story. The dark-skinned, middle-aged man sitting on the stool hunched over his wooden creation looked up for a moment to respond. “Turtles mean long life and health,” he said simply. It made sense that turtles symbolize longevity; they certainly look like they’ve been around since prehistoric time.
That’s when the light bulb went on and I turned to my husband to announce, “I’m going to collect turtles.” Over the years, I had admired my cousin’s collection of miniature clocks, the assortment of cows in my friend’s kitchen, and the myriad of nutcrackers that magically appear in my neighbor’s home before Christmas. Somehow, their collections made them more interesting people in a quirky kind of way. The collected items also spurred lots of curious inquiries: Why did you choose (item) to collect? When did you start collecting? Where did you find that one? How many do you have? I’d often thought that it would be fun to collect something, but I had never been drawn to a particular animal or object. That was before my Hawaiian epiphany: How could I not begin a turtle collection when I had found an item that possessed such good karma?
Since that auspicious trip ten years ago, my once uncluttered home has been overtaken by turtles of every size, shape, material, and color. I’ve got turtles made out of crystal, stone, wood, glass, ceramic, seashells, metal, leather and fabric. I have turtles of all sizes ranging from a one inch wooden one with a bobble head to a three foot long wall sculpture that hangs prominently in my home office. And don’t think all my turtles are green: I have two blue Murano glass turtles from Venice, a turquoise and orange one from Israel, and a bejeweled purple turtle from Vermont.
The fun is in the hunt, the search for that unique turtle that I haven’t yet discovered. My joy of collecting surges every time I walk into a gift shop or meander around a craft fair. I’m especially revved up on vacations, when I search for that exotic turtle, hand-crafted in local materials by a native artisan. My eyes are trained to quickly scan displayed items for that familiar oval shape with head, legs, and tail peeking out from underneath. When I spot one, I usually exclaim in glee to my shopping partner, “Oh, look at that turtle!” or “I found a turtle!” Then, I settle down and closely examine the piece to determine if it is worthy of purchasing.
When I began my collection, I bought every turtle under twenty dollars. I needed to accumulate them quickly so I would have enough to qualify as a collection. Plus, I didn’t yet know that there were so many exceptional turtles out there to discover. So the first ten turtles I bought were kitschy, machine-made figurines that later disappeared into a box stored in the basement. As my collection grew and my turtles marched across the kitchen counter, I became much more discerning. I no longer bought just any turtle, but only those that were unique -- made in a material or of a design I hadn’t yet acquired. And my interest turned to those that were hand-crafted rather than churned out by some factory.
Years later, my turtle collecting became even more selective, and I limited my purchases to non-figurines or what I coined, “turtles with a purpose.” This phase two collection includes a turtle lamp, footstool, picture frame, cheese board and salt and pepper shakers. I also started consolidating my earlier collection by gifting some of my turtles as good luck charms, and displaying only my favorites.
Recently, I started buying turtle-themed children’s books, stuffed animals and pull toys for my unborn, not yet conceived grandchildren (only one of my three children is married). I realize that my obsession with turtle collectibles might be getting out of hand. However, now that my own collection is coming to a satisfying end, I have a desire to pass on the joy of the hunt and my turtle legacy to the next generation. Years ago, when the artisan in Hawaii explained the turtle’s symbolism of longevity, maybe he was also referring to what I hope will become a long-living collectible in my family for generations.
