Lawyer Marvin Goldman in his Manhattan home amid his extensive collection of El Al memorabilia. Adrian Fussell for The Wall Street Journal

Marvin Goldman, an international lawyer, says there are two kinds of people in the world: collectors and "thrower outers." He ought to know: Mr. Goldman owns what's billed as the world's largest collection of memorabilia from El Al, Israel's national airline.

This raises all sorts of interesting questions, such as: Why airline memorabilia? And why El Al in particular? But first I'd like to address Mr. Goldman's inclination to place everybody on the planet into one of two groups, which is a wonkish, well, collector-type thing to do.

Mind you, I'm not criticizing him. Indeed, I couldn't agree more. Then again, I'm a collector, too. But I've always been intrigued by what I consider to be a more profound philosophical question: Is collecting a good thing? I don't mean for the Jews, in this particular case, but in general.

Some of the pieces from the collection. Adrian Fussell for The Wall Street Journal

Collectibles from El Al. Adrian Fussell for The Wall Street Journal

Are those of us who acquire stuff—whether it be R. Crumb comics, first editions of books by American authors and tiny models of skyscrapers in my case; or flight attendant uniforms, captains' hats, posters and first- and business-class silver and glassware in Mr. Goldman's—happier than the average Joe or Moshe?

I don't know. It certainly lends us direction; allows us to carve a little meaning out of an arguably senseless, even hostile, universe; channel our avarice into socially acceptable activities. But are we just giving our kids—often the ones who will have to decide what to do with all this stuff, and whether to keep or sell it—additional headaches, or are we handing down a pastime and even an important legacy?

As I said, I have no idea. I'm just putting the thought out there. My wife doesn't collect. I'd actually put her into the thrower-outer category (often of things that are probably worth keeping, such as paychecks, legal notices, etc.). But I don't see where her life is any less rich than mine.

I think we'd all be willing to stipulate that if you're going to collect in the first place, airline memorabilia is as good a place to focus as any. It's the romance of flight and all that. But why El Al? Maybe it's just because I'm American and not Israeli (even though, as a Jew, I'm as proud of Israel's national airline as the next guy), but I have bolder associations with, say, TWA, which employed a bright red motif, and Pan Am, whose color scheme was as blue as the wild yonder.

Mr. Goldman said the sheer challenge had something to do with it—early El Al pilot insignia, for example, are apparently harder to score than their Pan Am, United or Air France equivalents. "In the very early days, the land of Israel, being an ancient land—anything 10, 20 years old was considered worthy of throwing out," Mr. Goldman explained.

He gave a second reason for his collecting: "El Al personifies the history of the state of Israel." And a third: Its role in historic airlifts, such as one in 1991 of 1,087 Ethiopian Jews on a single flight. "The world record," Mr. Goldman said.

Having a people who judge antiquity by the standards of the Dead Sea Scrolls cuts both ways for a collector. On the one hand, it may be harder to find ephemera; on the other, it may also be easier to get their owners to part with souvenirs, such as their kid's plastic junior-pilot wings.

That may also account for Mr. Goldman landing, no pun intended, some of the unique and important items in his collection. For example, the 1951 identification card belonging to "air hostess" Livia Chaya Eisen. "She was the first El Al stewardess," Mr. Goldman explained proudly. "She gave me the first I.D. card."

He also has an early safety card, that plastic card in the seatback in front of you that you never read. (The airline started flying in late 1948.) "It's in four languages," Mr. Goldman pointed out. "French, English, Hebrew and Yiddish."

Free association—seatbacks, for example, and the stuff they're likely to harbor—led me to inquire about airsickness bags and whether the collector has any. I didn't see why he wouldn't. I have one somewhere, in pristine condition, from an Aeroflot flight I took in 1971. Then again, back in those dark days an airsickness bag may have been the extent of the memorabilia you were likely to collect on a flight between Kiev and Sochi, and chances are you might have needed to use it.

Besides, for those of us who tend to suffer, they're certainly as legitimate a souvenir and even more directly associated with the adventure of flight than pens, key chains or playing cards—an entire drawer in Mr. Goldman's Upper West Side apartment being devoted to the latter.

The collector became uncharacteristically terse when I raised the subject of vomit bags. I got the feeling that it had less to do with any personal experience with motion sickness than that he felt it somehow beneath the high standards of his 30,000-item collection, or perhaps beneath the glory of El Al—not that even the Chosen People or their flight crews are immune to turbulence.

"Don't ask me that question," he said. "I'll give you the guy to talk to. He's in Holland and he's got the most."

Other highlights of the collection include the fabric uniform wings, with the Star of David emblem, that belonged to Herbert Kweller, El Al's first steward; 30 or 40 model aircraft, ranging from an early Douglas DC-4 propeller plane to jumbo jets; eye-popping El Al airline office posters; El Al advertisements such as "Let my people go on El Al" and "Gad is my co-pilot" (the reference not to a misspelled Almighty but to airline pilot Gad Katz); and more El Al flatware and china than you'll find in most flight pantries. There's even a copy of the in-flight menu from Pope John Paul II's historic 2000 visit to Israel.

Mr. Goldman scores some of his treasures from El Al pilots and flight attendants who aren't as sentimental as he is; from fellow airline memorabilia collectors around the world who are aware of his Israeli Airlines passion (that's how he acquired a lovely green ceramic El Al ashtray circa 1949-50; "I'd never seen it in person," he confided); from aviation-enthusiast shows (Mr. Goldman already has his reservations at the LAX Sheraton, where the 2014 Airlines International convention will be held); and from eBay, of course.

He's also the author of two books: "El Al: Star in the Sky," published in 1990, and 2008's "El Al: Israel's Flying Star."

I wasn't trying to be blasphemous or anything, but I wondered if Mr. Goldman, who has visited Israel 40 times, would consider flying an airline other than El Al if he got a lower fare. "Security is a big deal," he explained, referring to El Al's hyper-security-conscious reputation. "We also like kosher meals. We don't have to order anything special."

Write to Ralph Gardner at