To many, the ad campaign for Planters Peanuts is an oxymoronic conundrum. But the words "Relax-Go Nuts" aptly describe Anthony J. Scola, MD, who finds comfort in his voracious pursuit of all things Mr. Peanut.

For the past eight years, the 41-year-old radiologist has searched for representations of the iconic trademark, which dates back to 1916. The third-floor computer room of his Philadelphia row home contains 1,500 items ranging from antique tins and postcards to wristwatches and toddler-sized busts, all displayed in a country-store style shelf. And last June, he became president of Peanut Pals, a national organization of 600 like-minded Mr. Peanut boosters.

"Being a radiologist is very stressful, so you need something that gets you totally out of what you do for a living," says Dr. Scola, a junior partner at Papastavros' Associates Medical Imaging, LLC, in Delaware. "[Collecting] was something that was totally unrelated to my life and radiology."

He wasn't always enamored of the monocled, dimpled dandy with the white evening gloves and cane. "Our family used to spend summers in Atlantic City, and my mother would take us on the boardwalk where the old [Planters] store was," he says. "When I was maybe 3 years old, Mr. Peanut stuck his head into the carriage I was in, and I started to cry. The family would always make fun of that. If I was misbehaving, they would say, 'Mr. Peanut is going to get you,' and it would be this traumatic thing."

Years later on his birthday, Dr. Scola received a cast iron Mr. Peanut statuette from an older brother, with a card that read, "May you turn your fears into strengths." The gift came at a time when he'd grown tired of accompanying his wife Lenore on her quests for antiques. She suggested he collect something for himself-like Mr. Peanut. "This thing [took] on a life of its own. The first few pieces, you're sort of half into it. But as you see other things that are similar, you want a complete set-then the hunt is on. My wife is very active in it, too, which is nice. It's not just my hobby, it's sort of our hobby."

 Antique malls and eBay auctions feed their collection, which was featured this January on Ultimate Collectors, a series on Home & Garden Television. Dr. Scola's prize peanut possession-a gift from his wife-is an ultra-rare tin worth thousands. "I'd say I'm an advanced beginner," he says. "I would put myself in the top third of collectors, but [I'm] continually humbled by people whose [collections] are so much more extensive than mine."

One of those collections belongs to a Connecticut-based Peanut Pal who's also the club's only other radiologist. "He's 10 or 12 years older than me, so he's sort of a mentor as far as the business of radiology, and also [in regards to] collecting. It's almost like looking at yourself 10 years from now."

Already, Dr. Scola boasts a collection valued at $70,000-not that he'd ever sell it. "I'm way too into it to say, 'Ah, the heck with it,'" he says. "I don't envision a day down the road where I would do that. I just couldn't."

To even consider the idea, he'd have to be.well, you know.

Jeff Bell is senior associate editor of ADVANCE.