I don’t hoard. I work as an archivist and collector. There is a distinction.
I gather and preserve vinyl, cassettes, and reel-to-reel tapes. I own numerous instruments and a vast library of literature. I’ve needed them since 1964 for my job.
Like you, I own a number of T-shirts with political candidates, band names, slogans, and quotes. I purchased extras of my favorite pair of gray cargo pants.
Then there’s this sack of books. Or backpack, or knapsack, or whatever the youngsters are now calling it.
It’s quite typical. It’s the same Jansport basic black book bag that you find hanging on the racks in Target’s or TJ Maxx’s Back to School area, or on the side or back aisles at Staples.
It was formerly wheeled and contains many pockets.
I realized then that the end might not be far off. Literally, the wheels came off. Around the home, I would discover tiny pieces of black plastic and ask, “What is this from?” I understood what it meant when I eventually connected the dots: my traveling partner was going in a different direction.
Recognize that I have strong feelings about a lot of topics. However, during two crucial phases of my life—one as a teacher and the other as a sound designer—this bag literally carried me.
I have a lot of sympathy for children who must carry a whole school library on their shoulders every day and worry about osteoporosis in the future.
Although some school districts have made the switch to iPads, you are not allowed to take notes in the margins or dogear an iPad. Not with a marker, but you can highlight it. With modern technologies, so many kinesthetic touches disappear.
In any case, this backpack accompanied me on my daily travels during the final five years of my teaching career. Depending on the teachings for that week, its contents would vary. My lesson plan book, a bottle of water, a three-point snack, and perhaps a book on musical notation or a photo album of exotic locations. I used a different thermal container to carry my lunch.
It helped me get through the last three years, which were terrible—not because of the students, with the exception of my last class—but rather because of the temptation to quit.
About two years ago, when I began designing sound for Seaview Theatre, the bag reappeared. I could fit my laptop and all of the cables and adapters that came with it into its roomy folds, making it a reliable and tried-and-true friend.
All bets were off when I began to notice that the wheels were missing. Additionally, I was no longer able to wheel it, so I had to start carrying it or slinging it across my back.
It’s funny how we cling to certain items, such as a family photo, a treasured book, or a musical instrument. A book bag, though? A rucksack? Whatchamacallit? Why?
ease of use. acquaintance. stinginess. When the old one functions perfectly, why purchase a new one? Until it doesn’t.
Last December, Joan got me a new one as a Christmas/birthday gift. It cost more than any other backpack I’ve ever owned. It was better insulated, sleeker, and sexier.
However, it lacks wheels. I have to carry it or sling it over my back now, which is bad but nice because there is nothing to fall off. Aww! Give the chiropractor a call!
I’ve used the new book bag a few times and it seems to work perfectly. However, I gave the elder one a final embrace and expressed my gratitude for its service when I put it in a different rubbish bag and disposed of it late Monday night. I also experienced a sudden sense of relief. Because the unpleasant last three years of my teaching career were a major part of my book bag’s history. That bag came to represent the burden and accountability I bore in order to serve out my time and be able to retire with my pension unaltered.
I was now bidding that memory farewell. I was able to breathe once more.
There are several reasons why we cling to items: they make us happy, they remind us of the past, or they are priceless. In addition to serving as a sort of spiritual anchor to a period when we had more friends to mentor us, more mentors to teach us, and more things to learn, we hang onto things because the past teaches us how to go forward into the future.
Holding onto the past is not a negative thing. It’s the reason we adore centuries-old music, art, and cuisine. However, it’s also beneficial to be able to let go and move on without feeling guilty or regretful after they’ve fulfilled their mission.
Friends, hold on. The finest is still to come. Raise your lovely grey heads!
Facebook users can leave comments on Talk To The Old Guy.
Note: Every piece of content is rigorously reviewed by our team of experienced writers and editors to ensure its accuracy. Our writers use credible sources and adhere to strict fact-checking protocols to verify all claims and data before publication. If an error is identified, we promptly correct it and strive for transparency in all updates, feel free to reach out to us via email. We appreciate your trust and support!
+ There are no comments
Add yours