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In one word: Nostalgia.
A remembrance of simpler, more decent and honest times when I was growing up in the 1950s. Not to over-portray the 1950s as something that era wasn't -- there was plenty of bad stuff going on back then too -- racism and segregation for example.
But, overall, people -- at least in the small towns where I grew up -- were kind and decent to one another, and most folks were honest. Most of the people I knew as a child never locked their houses. (My mama didn't even know where the front-door key was when she went to look for it one day.) People left the keys to their cars in the ignition -- at home and when out and about.
Household appliances were better-made back then, and were more beautiful. Sure, there were drawbacks -- most of them were dirt belchers and dust breeders and awkward or difficult to deal with the vacuumed-up dirt. But they were made to last a household a lifetime, not 2 or 3 years then they fall apart and the folks would have to go buy another disposable machine.
Many of the ladies -- even the older ones -- had vacuum cleaners and other appliances that they had gotten when they were first married, either as wedding gifts or just purchases for the new household.
As most of us, my attraction to (okay, obsession for) vacuum cleaners began at a very, very early age. And I loved every single one I ever saw, found, or used. As I began to grow up and had to become more secretive about this "peculiar fascination," I put a stop to overtly engaging in my hobby. You could say that I went into the "sweeper closet."
Interestingly, one of my first after-school jobs was working for a vac shop, cleaning up, arranging stock, and such. When I went downstairs one day and saw the bewilderingly beautiful jumble of old trade-in machines that the owner had been putting down there ever since he opened, I began to play around with some of them, especially the old Kirbys and Electroluxes, and eventually bringing a few of them home to work on.
One day the owner of the store said, "You really have an eye for those old machines, don't you." I felt a deep sense of shame and embarrassment, like he had "outed me," and brushed aside his comment -- even though, looking back, I realize he meant it as a compliment and may well have had "an eye for those old machines" himself! But I considered my interest in them too secret and too shameful and I wouldn't admit it to anyone, not for many years. Not, actually, until after I met Stan Kann in 1990. But that's another story.
When I did begin openly collecting vacuum cleaners and began scouring through junk stores, thrift shops and vacuum cleaner stores, the machines I was most attracted to were the ones I remembered from my childhood. And that's the way it has stayed to this very day.
Every machine in my collection is like one that someone had when I was a kid. I have multiples of certain machines I really like, and some of them are configured as different people had them -- e.g., a Model E with a cord winder and XXX hose as I've talked about. I have that version sitting right here.
And So It Goes.