How do we accumulate so much stuff? When I look at all the stuff that is in my home, I wonder what will become of it when I die, or even worse, what will I do with it when I move. At some point, I will be moving and, like all other moves, there will be a moment when the realization hits that much of it must go.
My secondary, imaginary life's work should be that of a stationary store owner. Pens, paper, tablets, notebooks, diaries are stacked in shelves or held in strong, plastic containers. It is time to take them out, hold them closely and kiss them good by.
Art and books are everywhere, too. Some of it in boxes, waiting for the house with more walls and more bookshelves. Yet, the art must stay and books can be catalogued and, then, sold or recycled to stores and people who love to read. A "Free" box is going in the front yard, when the sun starts shining again, here in the Northwest.
Although not many pass by the house in cars, there are a lot of walkers and bike riders who might need another dictionary or a Nepalese phrase book. What people read interests me.
What grabs their imagination is a good measuring stick, as to who they are as creative, intelligent beings.
Although, when you look at my library, you might have a hard time figuring out something about me, since it is so eclectic. One of my favorite things to do, when younger, was reading encyclopedias and dictionaries. Lost in Roget's Thesaurus, summer afternoons would whittle away, as new words replaced the simpler ones of the mind.
One week was spent memorizing, the longest word in the world, in a dictionary, which has 45 letters, PNEUMONOULTRAMICROSCOPICSILICOVOLCANOCONIOSIS. It is still the longest, in a dictionary, however, the longest word in the world has 189 letters and is commonly referred to as Titin, also known as Connectin, which is a protein that connects muscles. You may never see it in Webster's, though.
One thing that always intrigued me was Proust's claim to fame in that he sought to use words precisely, and spent much time seeking the literal, exact word. He had a lot of time to do that as, unlike many writers, he was financially secure his entire life and never had to work.
Is that reason enough, though? Even with time to write, as I do have now, choosing a word can always lead to a spiral of creative exposition which may lead no where, and may never get me to the next paragraph. Choices are always so unpredictable, aren't they?
However, they can be very exciting and gratifying, also. Some of my most interesting and terrifying moments were commenced with a single word. Yes, No, Never, Go, Stay, Come, Stop. The power of words and actions not realized, until you move into them and use them.
Latin has always been my favorite, precise languages. Basis for so many languages, we currently use, in the world. When in Italy or France, the enjoyment I take in reading the Latin words on monuments or plaques, never wanes. There is an incredible pleasure while translating a plaque, posted on the door of a Medici mistresses' suite, in the garden of a Florentine, Franciscan church's patio.
I wonder what the mistress stored away, in her beautiful suite? What do we hold onto, even though we may never use them again? What freezes you from letting them go, recycling them, sharing them? Could it be some simple memory, long forgotten, that arises, as you remember who gave it to you, how it came to be sitting there in that box?
There are about 500 cassettes, sitting in a storage bin, in my mud room. The plan has been to buy a Cassette-To-CD converter and enjoy them. Will I listen to 500 cassettes? Do I have the life time to do that? I have no idea, however, moving them to another house or city is not something that is in my plans. So, I guess the equipment will be bought, and a few weeks of my life shall be spent listening to music, once enjoyed, that still moves me, and taped shows of Coast to Coast with Art Bell, that will always be incredible discussions, never to be heard again.
That should be a step back, into the past, for sure. Connections to the past is why we store things. Many, of them, we never have again, but need to touch, every so often, something from those moments and memories. I am grateful to have all this technology, so music and pictures and voices can be saved in megabits, on a thumb drive. What wondrous times we love and live in.
So, my promise, to you, unknown reader, is at some point, this summer, before I go to LA in August, the 500 cassettes will be gone. The DVD's containing the songs and conversations shall be sitting on the library shelf, taking up maybe an inch of space.
And, as is often said, in Florence, to beautiful, American women:
Amicule, deliciae, num is sum qui mentiar tibi?
"Baby, sweetheart, would I lie to you?"
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