I’ve spent the last week reorganizing the Mike Museum. There’s now a small, framed painting of Emmett Kelly, the famous clown, done by my grandmother 50-some-years ago. I’ve also been watching the Bill Walton 30-for-30 documentary, “The Luckiest Guy in the World,” so I got down the Trailblazers basketball, wondering if it had his signature – no. It’s actually from the 2007-2008 season, long after their 1977 ABA Championship. All the Indy 500 memorabilia is back in place after last week’s race brunch. The home office is now a hodge podge of these items that I call “my museum.”

There are actually very few personal things of mine on display. Most are hidden away in binders, but there are a few sales and Toastmasters awards on the shelf, along with some of my dad’s. My pledge father’s Sigma Chi fraternity paddle is hung on the wall next to my wife’s Pi Beta Phi sorority paddle. The brass 1919 National Cash register, a reward from my first job, is not filled with money but rather dog tags, wrist bands, wine corks, playing cards, batteries, bottle openers, and other silly memories. Yes, I’m a hoarder, but everything is somewhat organized. Thousands of ticket stubs are encased behind glass. Books fill the spaces between models and bobbleheads, signed by their authors. A world globe reminds me of our travels. Jerseys, photos, and autographs are framed on the walls, even a Portland Timbers championship scarf carefully hung, plus baseball bats and balls housed in plexiglass cases. All my first-name heroes like Sherm, Reggie, Walter, Yogi, Ernie, Bobby and Babe line the walls and shelves. My favorite teams like the White Sox, Cubs, Hoosiers, Blazers, Ducks, Beavers, Boilers, Bears, and Pacers are all represented around me, as well as the venues where they played such as Comiskey Park and Assembly Hall.

The most important things, however, are mostly in binders, hidden away from view. There are thousands of sports cards, press passes, pennants, pins, photos, clippings, magazines, and posters. To many people this would all be junk, but to me it’s a lifetime. I spend many fulfilling hours keeping this stuff in order, as the museum curator. The Sherm Lollar collection, for example, includes over 300 objects from 1945 to present. It may very well be the largest in the world, but no one probably cares but me. Few people know who he is, and the baseball Hall of Fame has certainly forgotten his catching accomplishments. Today’s sport fans certainly know of Shohei Ohtani. His collection in my museum now includes in excess of 200 baseball cards. “Excess” is probably a good word to describe my hobby and Mike’s Museum, where admission is free.