On Things and Such
I've been reflecting a lot on stuff lately. To be clear, I've not been reflecting on a lot of stuff, but on stuff itself--things, posessions, mementos. I have a lot of stuff. Most of which is fairly junky and meaningless. Oh sure, I have the first book that made me love reading , my grandmother's antique china, and the same teddy bear I've been sleeping with since I was eight (yes, I'm almost 40 and still sleeping with a teddy bear, not the point here). But most of the other stuff I've got is just that . . . stuff. Is there any particular reason to keep stacks of old magazines? A miniature Etch-A-Sketch? A vase full of old wine corks? I think no. So why do I still have them? Lots of reasons, including I might need them someday, they amuse me, or they remind me of something. But as I've been thinking about all of this stuff, it's occurring to me (slowly -- after all, I have been a packrat all my life) that I don't really need ...