One of the loneliest times in life is the period just after a loved husband or wife has passed away. It then seems that nothing is worth doing. Days become full of emptiness. Remorse and self-pity frequently get the upper hand.

All too often, the greatest therapy in this trying situation is overlooked. If the deceased mate pursued a hobby, then this is the time for the remaining spouse to actively continue that hobby. The intense absorption that was there for one can usually be found by the other.

If the hobby was stamp collecting, there is always some phase of the collection in which the survivor can discover interest, and in addition to the pleasure of associating with the objects that meant so much to the deceased spouse, there is the gratifying feeling of continuing, and perhaps successfully finishing the project.

This leads me to the point of this article. Widows and widowers shouldn’t rush to dispose of a stamp collection immediately upon the death of their spouse. Retain it for a while… at least until it is definitely known that it will not be a desired and useful treasure worth far more, as a pleasurable time consumer and companion, than the monetary return that it may bring.

I recently flew from Chicago to Philadelphia in one hour and twenty minutes. Only a few years ago it took a sixteen hour train ride to cover the same distance. Of course, the plane is by comparison a modern miracle. But what has been accomplished by me with the more than half a day saved? Am I putting my newly added time to good purpose? I confess I am in doubt.

On the train I had leisure to think. Because I had to ride for an extended period of time I could undertake reading a long book or writing a short story which I had carried in my mind for some time. Occasionally along the way I met fascinating fellow travelers, and was with them long enough to benefit from their conversation and knowledge. In good weather, the passing landscape was of interest and sometimes it even inspired a lyric in my thoughts.

Now one scarcely unfastens the seat belt when the light flashes, “fasten the seat belts,” for landing; then begins the rush to home or office, the resumption of our briefly interrupted routine. There is no thought of abstract things, no reserve of composure accumulated for tomorrow.

Is it any wonder that every day more and more people are turning to stamp collecting as one of the few remaining calming influences in life? Philately is both tonic and restorant for the jaded and tired mind. It is a place in life to day-dream. It is for many, all that remains which they themselves truly control.

“Mr. X” is collecting Missouri postal history. “Mr. Y” is as keen for Montana. Then there is a long line of people after everything from Hong Kong to Tenerife. Our hope is to always have as much available in each of these lines as our friends have money to spend for their specialty. Alas, in philately it cannot be done.

There is no philatelic field other than the new issue business (and even that has exceptions) where the supply of merchandise is unlimited. Some subjects are so limited as to have practically no commercial supply except when a former collector places his material on the market. Needless to say, this is gobbled up in a short time and once again the market is dry.

There is a group of specialties that have a more generous floating inventory in dealer’s hands. Generally they are from countries or areas that have had high economic and cultural development during the time of that specialty. England and France during the Nineteenth Century and parts of Italy during the Eighteenth century are examples. While there are many scarce items from each of these countries, so much was created that a huge reservoir of material currently exists.

Collectors who seek specialties should give long consideration to their choice of subjects. Most important should be whether they want to fish in a well-stocked lake or cast their line in a stream that only occasionally has a fish.

During the years since 1930, when we first started taking to the highways and byways, we have met and done business with thousands of collectors. With a few exceptions, our services have pleased them. After all, no one can please the fellow who buys second class stamps with the idea that some fool dealer will later on take them off his hands as superb copies.

We care because the only way we can keep our hobby growing is by making comfortable, well stocked and pleasantly conducted stamp stores available to collectors. There are many people who do not wish to do business by mail. These are people who, for various reasons, prefer to do business in person, face-to-face. We care about the facilities of other stamp shops because they reflect a marked image on stamp collecting in general.

We want people to be collectors, and if it requires that good competitive stores be established in Paducah, Columbia and Boise, then that’s fine with us.

We, as all dealers with modern and efficient facilities, profit from the collective health of philately. We endorse any and all efforts others make to improve the facilities for stamp buying and selling.

Let’s face facts; more people collect in printed than blank albums, and are general or one-of-a-kind collectors, rather than specialists. More people understand this form of collecting better than any other yet when clubs or societies stage stamp exhibitions, all but the specialists are frozen out in the classification of entries and the awards made by juries.

Is it any wonder then that the millions of “outside” collectors don’t attend stamp shows or take an interest in clubs. We make them feel like “step children”.

We need a place in every show where these printed albums with their general assemblages of stamps can be entered. We need awards worthy efforts in this category. We also need judges with an appreciation for the more generalized stamp collecting interests of these millions of people.

The fact that these millions don’t find twenty varieties where Scott only finds one shouldn’t freeze them out of the shows.

With the coming of Spring, we resume our “road work”. No, this isn’t an athletic endeavor. This is travel to view collections that are for sale. Within the next six months we expect to cover 30,000 miles of North America highways, calling on philatelists in their homes or offices to either purchase or arrange for the sale of their collections. In this, we have what is probably the world’s most pleasant occupation.

During the years since 1930, when we first started taking to the highways and byways, we have and done business with thousands of collectors. With but a few exceptions, our services have pleased them. After all, no one can please the fellow who buys second class stamps with the idea that some fool dealer will later on take them off his hands as superb copies.

By far the majority of those selling understand the basic economic fact that they will only receive the wholesale value of their material because the purchasing dealer has expenses and a profit to make. They know that some stamps are more popular than others and have a better market value. They realize that five and ten cent items are available in the trade at per hundred and per thousand prices and so will hardly be figured when the overall estimate of a collection is made. They also appreciate that the care they lavished on their collection adds to its value when selling. Dealers are only able to complete transactions with sellers who understand these economic imperatives.

SPECIAL NOTE: This is the first of many postings of the wonderful "Apfelbaum's Corner" columns by Earl P.L. Apfelbaum that appeared in countless stamp collecting magazines over a three-decade period in the third quarter of the 20th century. Visit is often and read more.

Labor Day of 1930 marked the dividing point of public opinion as to whether “Hoover’s Depression” was to be a big bump or a careening cataclysm rapidly getting out of control. On this eventful day my father, Maurice, and I embarked on an enterprise intended to provide the proverbial roof over our heads and destined to become life work for both of us: a stamp business.

We opened our first stamp shop in a small, third floor walk-up office in a building at the southeast corner of 10th and Chestnut Streets in Philadelphia. Dad’s and my personal collections, plus $500.00 borrowed from insurance companies financed the purchase of fixtures, signs, advertising- and paid the rent for a while too.

Business was hardly what you could call good. Even so, the market for stamps was much better than those for diamonds, first editions, autographs and other collectable valuables. Stamp collectors retained their interest in the hobby and continued to purchase needed materials though, of course, in much smaller amounts than in the years prior to 1929.

One big help to us than, as now, was the fact that we dealt in and stocked stamps of all countries and times. We weren’t as subject to the fluctuations caused by the rise and fall of specialties, as were many dealers at that time and even today. And we were lucky too. At low points in our venture, something always turned up- a “good buy” or a commission to handle the liquidation of a valuable property.

In 1933 we were able to move to a slightly larger, street level store at 52 North 11th Street. We stayed at this location for eleven years, catering to a local trade on the limited scale of such stores.

Our first few years in the stamp business weren’t as bad as the several that followed. In 1934 we started our public auctions and seemed to be gaining some slight momentum. Then my father died. It was probably the greatest personal tragedy I have ever suffered. His loss affected me for some time, and with general business conditions growing worse by the day, it seemed for a while that our little stamp shop wasn’t going to make it.

With a lot of help from friends and family, we managed to pull through. Soon we began to get a little bigger. We grew slowly at first. Then a little faster. Today we are growing so rapidly that it is almost impossible to believe such progress possible.

I often think back to those early “depression” years. They were hardly the fondest I have spent, but they did teach me a great lesson that, I think , has helped me to keep my feet on the ground during the wonderful years we are now experiencing.

It many seem strange to you, but I still get a pins- and-needles tingle every time I compare that first 225 square foot store to what I have now. It’s a good feeling.