I’ve gotten back into the hobby lately and have been sorting through some of my old cards as a result. The visceral feelings immediately return.
I see cards from the Base Set, and I immediately think of getting the original theme decks for my birthday, not understanding that they were all the same.
Oh look. Jungle Exeggutor. I’m then instantly transported back to my nine-year old self at my grandma’s house, sitting outside with the neighbor kid with our binders and me trying to trade him a bunch of commons and uncommons for a holo and him scoffing and telling me “no.”
Fossil? I remember my mom having a couple of Fossil booster packs waiting for me in the car after school. It was fourth grade. Good times. Who the heck knows if they were first edition. My original binder was accidentally thrown out, so I can’t even check.
Then there’s Team Rocket, my last foray into Pokemon collecting as a child. What beautiful artwork. For some reason, this is where it ended for me in 2000. Don’t know why, but Drowzee always jogs my memory.
Then there is when I re-entered the hobby in 2017, full of hope and believing that I would one day be doing what I love as a business: selling Pokemon cards.
I do that now. I have a day job so it’s a side business, but it’s lucrative and it’s great. Call it my first love, if you will. I’ve met so many great people along the way. Had so many exciting moments.
But it isn’t what I wanted it to be. It’s certainly not the picture I painted in my head.
You go through life and you lose people. Some pass away, others just fall out of your life. The spark I had for this eight years ago is still inside me. The instinctive reaction to seeing cards I love still exists. God, I love this hobby. But sometimes, the nostalgia just becomes absolutely crushing.
I look at Pokemon cards and that’s what I feel. I hear the music from Pokemon Red and Blue as well as Gold and Silver and the same thing occurs. But at the same time, I know this is where I’m supposed to be.
I pray for the day where that spark overtakes me again. I know it’s coming. But not having certain people around throughout the process has created a sense of emptiness in the midst of the joy.
Nostalgia comes from the Greek words “nostos” and “algia,” meaning a painful yearning for the past. I can’t think of a time where it has ever been truly fun, and the more life goes by, the worse the feeling becomes.
But thank God for Pokemon ![]()





