Knickknacks or rubbish?

After reading "Interpreter of Maladies" by Jhumpa Lahiri, I am reminded of all the little knickknacks that have collected over the years on shelves, in drawers, and under my bed that would serve as clues to the person I am. For instance, my square piece of "wall" from my junior year musical signed by my fellow cast mates and the "Break a Leg" teddy bear key chain that I had received from a teacher for a performance of that show. Along with that are miscellaneous others like a tiny 3-D manger scene, a ballerina figurine, a "ring box" which actually contains a wooden ladybug- these all speak to pieces of me and moments in my past. I could tell you stories about each of the objects aforementioned, but I won't get into that here. And though they all have these back stories, they really don't serve any purpose but to be displayed somewhere. When it's all said and done, these are things that will most likely be tossed during spring cleaning or when I finally move out of my parents' house this summer, but I am wondering to myself now- why did I keep them so long in the first place?

Do you have a lot of knickknacks or are you a minimalist? Would you be a Twinkle or a Sanjeev if you were to come across another person's abandoned mementos? I'd be a Sanjeev, though I'd have a little more compassion and understanding- I definitely wouldn't take a hammer to a Buddha statue but I wouldn't put him on my mantle either.