I’m not a hoarder. I am a collector and an archivist. There’s a difference.
I collect and archive reel-to-reel tapes, cassettes, vinyl. I have a huge collection of books and own many instruments. I need them for my work and have since 1964.
Like you, I have a collection of T-shirts with band names and political candidates, slogans and sayings. I have a favorite pair of grey cargo pants that I bought duplicates of.
And then, there’s this book bag. Or knapsack, or backpack, whatever the kids are calling theirs now.
It’s very ordinary. It’s the same Jansport basic black book bag you see hanging on the hangers in either the side or back aisles at Staples or in the “Back To School” section at Target or TJ Maxx.
It has lots of pockets and, at one time, it had wheels.
That was when I knew the end might be near. The wheels literally fell off. I would find little chunks of black plastic around the house and wonder “What is this from?” When I finally made the connection, I realized what it meant: my traveling companion was headed down another road.
Understand, I am sentimental about many, many things. But, this backpack literally carried my life during two very important stages: one as a teacher, the other as a sound designer.
I really feel for kids who have to cart an entire library of school books on their backs every day and wonder if they’ll develop osteoporosis later on in life.
Some school districts have switched to iPads, but you can’t dog ear an iPad, or make notes in the margins. You can highlight it, but not with a marker. So many kinesthetic touches vanish with new technology.
Anyway, for the last five years of my teaching career, this backpack traveled with me every day. Its contents would change depending on the lessons for that week. Sometimes a book on musical notation, or a photo album of foreign places, sometimes a VHS tape, always my lesson plan book and a bottle of water, plus a three point snack. I carried my lunch in a separate thermal container.
It got me through my last three years which were horrible not because of the kids (my last class excluded), but because of the pressure placed on me to resign.
That backpack came back when I started to design sound for Seaview Theatre about two years ago. A trusted and already tested companion, I could fit my laptop and all the accompanying wires and adapters into its cavernous folds.
Then, I started noticing the missing wheels and all bets were off. I also had to start carrying it or slinging it across my back because i couldn’t wheel it anymore.
It’s funny how we hold onto certain things: some things you understand like a musical instrument, a cherished book or a family photo. But, a book bag? A backpack? A whatchamacallit? Why?
Convenience. Familiarity. Stinginess. Why buy a new one when the old one works just fine? Until it doesn’t.
Joan bought me a new one last December for my birthday/Christmas present. It was more expensive than any other backpack I ever had. It was sleeker, sexier, better insulated.
But, it doesn’t have wheels. Which is good, because there’s nothing to fall off, but bad because now, I definitely have to carry it or sling it over my back. Ouch! Call the chiropractor!
I’ve had a few trial runs with the new book bag and it seems to do just fine. But, when I placed the older one in a separate garbage bag and put it out for disposal last Monday night, I gave it one last hug and thanked it for its service. And, I suddenly felt a bit relieved. Because, a large part of that book bag’s history had to do with the unhappy final three years of my teaching career. That bag became a symbol for the weight and responsibility I carried to see out my term until I could retire with my pension intact.
And now, I was saying goodbye to that memory. And I could breathe again.
We hold onto things for a variety of reasons: because they bring joy, because they represent the past or because they are irreplaceable. We hold onto things because the past teaches us how to proceed into the future and as a kind of spiritual mooring to a time when we had more friends to guide us, more mentors to instruct us, more things to learn.
It’s not a bad thing to hold onto the past. It’s the reason we love art and food and music from centuries ago. But, it’s also good to, when they have served their purpose, be able to let go and walk away, without remorse or regret.
Hang on friends. The best is yet to be. Hold those magnificent grey heads high!
Comments may be submitted to “Talk To The Old Guy” on Facebook.
This post was originally published on here
