I mean: minimalist or collector? It seems to me that one of the ways we can classify folks is into two categories based on how many possessions they aim to acquire.

I’m not into having stuff. Never have been. When I was a kid I harbored a romantic longing to be poor: the idea of owning just one doll or other toy, and treasuring that object without distraction, was powerfully attractive. You know how kids are into ordering items – what’s your favorite color? song? game? food? Well, I wanted my answer to be fast and definite. I wanted the field of choice limited.

Even now, I avoid department stores. Big shopping opportunities just make me nervous; I’m sure no matter how I go about it, I won’t see all choices.

Clutter makes me anxious. Chatter puts me on edge. You can call me anal or accuse me of OCD, but I know what doesn’t work for me, and it looks like a collection of items that need shelving and will require dusting.

There are other people, even in my own family, who see life differently. They acquire often and well. Although they practice rituals about which I know nothing, like the passing of no-longer-needed items to friends or the sale of possessions through the Internet or the occasional yard event, they never dispose of their stuff as fast as they acquire more, so their homes are accumulating components as inexorably as a river collects silt.

You can call them packrats and maybe they’ll smile. Say “hoarders” and they’ll argue right back at you: I’m not a hoarder; I’m a collector. And then you can smirk a little because you both know that’s exactly what any hoarder would claim.

They’re collectors. Really. They take pleasure out of having sets of items around. They probably find my walls too blank.

There are other ways to divide folks. Democrat or Republican. North or South. Male or female. Nostalgically: Chevy or Ford; Wards or Sears. Most of the classifications are useless, except maybe to create “sensitivity” toward others. Which should have been created long ago, right? Right?