I am, however, absurdly sentimental. One of my grandmothers, on long car trips, would amuse me by telling me the story behind each charm on her charm bracelet. She had two, and I am happy to know all those stories. When I wear them and they jingle, I feel like I might be on my way to ride a rollercoaster, see magnificent trees, or get a new doll.
One of my other grandmothers (Can I just say that extra grandparents are a wonderful thing?) had a silver charm bracelet. In the course of my cleaning up and clearing out, I remembered that I had it and took it to be repaired as well as lengthened for my less delicate wrist. There are charms for my brother and me, engraved with our names and birthdays, a tiny cruise ship, a saint talisman. More stories.
That same grandmother gave me lots of charms for my own silver charm bracelet, also getting repaired and lengthened since I have grown in the thirty some years since I got it. I realized that my own bracelet has its own set of stories.
Which makes it not so odd after all that I collect them.