Precious Things

I’ve been thinking about this issue for a while. But I didn’t quite know how to file it. Is it about art or commerce? Is it about relationships or lack thereof? Is it about money, health, or self-esteem? Is it trivial or fanciful?

I’m not sure. But I’ll start from where I left off. It was Barbara who made me consider it most recently. Whether it meant I was shallow. That first night I met her, she was saying something down at Paddy’s about how women who walk around with designer handbags are the worst kind of people because they care about status, or showing off wealth, or pretending to be something they are not, or whichever of the usual stereotypes people like to assign to people according to this one random criteria. I tucked my Marc by Marc Jacobs messenger bag under my hoodie on a chair. It was already nerve wracking enough being there with them all. Much less inadvertently getting in the way of a drunken tirade. And besides, she didn’t know me. The fact that I carried a particular accessory didn’t make me despicable any more than it made me superior. I resolved not to make mention of my most self-indulgent of hobbies, in Barbara’s or any one else’s presence.

It never came up again, though not for a good reason. By the end of that year, Barbara was gone. And I knew so little about her, just as she did about me. In March I attended a show and performance of some of her work, paintings and plays mostly, hosted in the place where Barbara had lived. When I stepped into the place, I couldn’t help but notice its condition. Was it even fit for habitation? It was definitely not a place you lived if you were worried about security. It was definitely not a place to keep family heirlooms or anything of value. Or perhaps I should say any “thing.” This was not a place of things, it was a place of ideas and expression and love and spirit and feeling and all those things that really weren’t things at all. And suddenly I felt a twinge of envy. If only I could live like that, free from attachment to things, fulfilled entirely from the inside.

It was sort of a communal place, but I don’t think it was devoid of personal spaces or places to keep personal things. I’m sure there were many things of sentimental value tucked away in corners or on tables next to the bed. But it definitely wasn’t like my house. I share a house with 4 other members of my family now, but for many years, I lived alone. And either way, I had the same arrangement. A highly organized collection of things, my things in my space, in fact it was my things that defined my space.

I can see them now from where I sit writing this. Neat shelves of books, and action figures, and toy cars; Tidy closet full of clothes and accessories, a desk full of assorted useful, or potentially useful items. Things I needed, need now, or might need in the future. Things and Needs. The two go together. It’s basic really. All people need things like food, shelter and clothes. After that, need is relative. That’s why it’s tricky to even use the word need for some things.

One might say that many of the economic troubles in the world today have been caused by the fact that most people believed they needed things they didn’t.

I don’t pretend to be any different. I would feel lost without the computer that I’m typing this on right now. Years ago it was unheard of to have a computer in a private home. And in this house we have several, including three in this room alone.

When you can’t afford to buy the things you need, there are hopefully social services willing and able to help you. There are food pantries and soup kitchens and goodwill collections and shelters for those most basic of needs. But beyond that, you have to earn the things you feel you need, or those you want.

I worked until I saved up enough money to buy this computer. I was happy when I got it because I paid for it in cash. I wasn’t overextending myself. I made due with my old computer until I could afford this one. But I haven’t always operated that way. I am no stranger to the world of poorly managed credit. I’ve made mistakes and purchased things I couldn’t afford. I worked to make it right as much as I could. I’ve resolved to be smarter about it in the future. Sure.

The book series and the film “Confessions of a Shopaholic” tell the story of Rebecca Bloomwood, a woman with these common and relatable problems. She shopped herself underwater. She bought so many things she couldn’t afford and barely had room for, and it ruined her relationships as well as her credit rating. Sophie Kinsella, the author of the books and Isla Fisher, the actress who played Rebecca, played it for laughs. It is funny watching someone go so out of control. But at the same time, there were serious issues in the background. Her parents scrimped and saved their every penny. Coming from a background like that can teach you to be frugal, or how to practice moderation, but in Rebecca’s case it made her feel like she was trapped. She felt she needed to spend, needed to acquire things to make herself feel self-sufficient or whatever it was she needed to feel. And it was a humorous romp seeing all the trouble she got into, and there was a heartwarming ending as she learned her lesson, and found a guy who loved her for herself despite her flaws. Harmless, chick flick fun. Except, I cried. I identified with Rebecca in so many ways. I also felt relief in areas where I didn’t relate to her. I am not an impulse shopper. I don’t see things and have to buy them immediately. I’m more of a planner. I research, I calculate, I evaluate risk. I go back and look several times before buying. Just to make sure it’s really what I want. These days I rarely buy things on credit, making sure I have the money and that I can still pay my bills and live up to my responsibilities. But yes, I have spent a lot of money. Money perhaps I could have used to buy a house, or save for a rainy day, of which there have been quite a few in recent years. Do I need everything I’ve bought? No, of course not.

I bought a car I loved that cost more than basic transportation. But it was in no way impulsive. I’m still driving it and still paying for it and I’ve never lost an ounce of sleep over my choice. The intangibles, experiences I’ve had, people I’ve met through owning the car, have no quantifiable value, but are priceless to me.

And that’s how I look at most things. Things serve a purpose. Things have intrinsic value. They have assigned value. I tried explaining this to Ralph one night when we were down at First Friday. He was telling me how he and Kate were not picky about having real jewelry aside from wedding rings, which have their sentimental value, etc. And I said, sure, I’m not a big jewelry person either. But there are people who get great pleasure from a nicely crafted piece of jewelry. It’s art and to them is worth the price they may pay. The higher quality, more expensive the materials, the longer the piece will last and hold its value. That’s the theory.

It works with pretty much everything. Ralph collects original comic art. It’s intrinsic value, the cost of paper and ink, are just a fraction of the assigned value. Ralph, and Kate too, have built their lives around comic art. It is their great passion in life. The pieces that line the walls of their home and of Ralph’s store are not just things. They are relative needs. They are nourishment for the soul. They bring real happiness.

This was actually what I tried to explain to him, planning to work up to my own examples. Handbags are art too, you know. They are designed and crafted of fine materials and they serve a purpose. They bring real happiness to the collector and the aficionado. They often cost much more than basic transportation for your wallet and keys. In a way they are a microcosm of personal space.

Feeling the need to justify my collection is not new. And if I believed my theory so thoroughly, then why must I continually convince myself and others? It’s because in the back of my mind, I know my relative needs have expanded perhaps more than they should have. As much as I love handbags, a few nice bags would probably be enough. I could sell the rest and maybe feed a few African villages for a time.

But so can lots of other people. How much are we to reasonably allow ourselves? What is the acceptable level of self-indulgence? When I was a member of the LDS church there were many families of great wealth. They and their kids had nice clothes and cars and lived in big houses. They paid their tithing, 10% of their earnings, so they fulfilled the literal counsel of the church. But does that let them off the hook to do what they like with the rest? What of the rest of us, who can’t seem to afford such a regular tithe, but will still treat ourselves every now and then? We all deserve a little bit of extra comfort when we can afford it don't we?

But are those relative needs and the sense of entitlement we have towards them making us richer or poorer? In the current economic climate, I think we’re all feeling a bit guilty. No one is immune. And our capitalistic system is based on the fact that businesses create goods and services that people want. If that weren’t the case, there would just be farmers producing food, some basic textile mills for basic clothing production, and basic home building for shelters.

But hang on; we also need education. So there have to be educated people, and materials used to educate. Part of education is knowledge of art. If education is a necessity, and art is worthy of being a topic of education, then we must need art. We need art because it makes life better. And if art can make life better, so can other forms of nourishment. Ideas, expression, spirituality, love and other feelings, all can be needs. The needs Barbara and her friends had in their house and fulfilled with a lot fewer things than I have. Things can also supplement the same kinds of needs that are separate from “things”. A washing machine is a thing that aids in the care of a basic need, clothing. So is a washing machine a necessity? Well, it makes washing clothes easier, leaving more time available to attend to other needs, like family relationships, adding to quality of life. Because time is one of those things that we can never create more of. But we can get the most out of time by using some things. And making the most of our time is what life is. Life is taking the time we have and doing the best we can with it according to our capabilities and our best judgment.

And round and round we go, because everyone has his or her own best judgment. So all these things I buy, because I want them/or need them, I’m not sure which, because they serve a purpose, make my life better, keep me happy, or make me feel whatever I need to feel, will be there in greater or lesser numbers than some other people have, life is not fair, nor are all things equal. And is that okay? I think it has to be. Asceticism is right for some, and charity is a good thing, and obviously some needs are more pressing than others.

So I have an ever-expanding collection of nice handbags. I collect action figures, and books and many other sorts of things. I love my car and I attach great sentimentality to certain pieces of clothing or shoes. Things can hold memories. They are vessels really, places to keep your stuff, whether it be physical objects or bits of psyche. And we all have a little bit of each.

There is more to be said, an ongoing argument in the culture, economy, arts, morality or religion and I have no neat tidy ending. The dark side was portrayed artfully by Tolkien, in how the ring took over Gollum, it became his "precious", his reason for being; how easily it was for anyone to fall under its spell if they weren't careful. The ring itself was a thing, it represented power, and indeed had power itself. Fortunately there aren't objects like that around in our everyday lives. I think the point is that power should not come through things. Things should not give power. People with things should not consider themselves more powerful than those without. Your things are not who you are, but they may just remind people of you.