We went up to Flagstaff yesterday to see how our summer trailer had weathered the winter storms. The aluminum roof over the porch must’ve had three feet of snow on it at some point, and it suffered some buckling that we’ll have to get fixed. But we figure we dodged a bullet, because a couple of porches in the park had caved in completely.
One can’t help but think at times about the things one accumulates in life and the need to safeguard them or insure against their loss. It conjures up images of people fleeing war zones or natural disasters with all they could cram into a vehicle or cart or suitcase (much as we fled that trailer a few years ago when a wildfire threatened). I ask myself what inanimate objects are irreplaceable enough for me to rescue under similar circumstances. Not being terribly attached to things, I don’t know that I could come up with even ten favorites – but here are five....
5. The guitar I bought just last year has quickly become a favorite thing. My old Gibson seemed too narrow in the neck after I’d gotten used to an Ovation nylon, but that was a bit bulky for sitting around with. I used to take a Martin backpacker (also nylon stringed) with me on trips East or to Flag – easy to transport, but it sounded like a ukulele. The Seagull Coastline Grand is just a dandy little instrument with a nice full sound. Replaceable, granted, but since the tone is supposed to improve with playing I’d want to save it.
4. Back when I used to haunt used bookstores, I’d always check to see if they had a reasonably priced first edition of V. by Thomas Pynchon on the shelf. Being a long-time, die-hard Pynchon freak, I considered it as much of a quest as that of its protagonist Herbert Stencil for the meaning of a mysterious initial. One storekeeper gently chided that I wouldn’t likely stumble on one at random because no bookseller would fail to recognize its value, and whenever I did come across a copy it’d usually be in a locked case and cost a couple hundred bucks. After some patient on-line searching, I finally found a third printing in good condition for just $45 – a teensy bit cocked and missing a front endpaper but with a nice jacket, so it scratched my itch just fine. Replaceable perhaps (as is my favorite edition of the TTC), but not at that price.
3. My Creative Zen MX 16-gig mp3 player is the latest in a series of repositories for the music that matters to me. I’m constantly (dare I say obsessively?) fiddling with its content, and it’s nice to know that I could leave behind all of the CD’s I’ve accumulated over the years and not miss them because I had my Zen. Device replaceable – content only with considerable replication of effort.
2. Another book worth saving would be my own, a novel that I completed back in the early 90s and then spent ten years beating my head against a wall trying to get published. I’ve gotten that frustration out of my system, but the work itself is nearer and dearer to me than a couple of other attempts at literary immortality, so the manuscript (or rather its e-file) would be something I’d want to rescue. Irreplaceable.
1. Fortunately I wouldn’t have to expend any effort to rescue my #1 item, because it resides on the third finger of my left hand, a band of titanium with two inset circles of gold. It’s a reminder that after years of farting around I finally found the love of my life. We ordered them from a craft dealer at the 4th Avenue street fair in Tucson, constantly looking over our shoulders lest anyone we knew see us since our wedding plans were under wraps; the day we put them on, in a registry office in Edinburgh, Scotland, is one I’ll not forget. Perhaps replaceable as a “thing” – but it’s way more than that.
Anyone who knows me will recognize that two of the five have to do with music, another two with the written word, reflecting the consuming interests of a lifetime. But anyone who knows me well will recognize that the other reflects a quest whose satisfaction was a lot more meaningful than the quest for V., whether Stencil’s or my own.
One can’t help but think at times about the things one accumulates in life and the need to safeguard them or insure against their loss. It conjures up images of people fleeing war zones or natural disasters with all they could cram into a vehicle or cart or suitcase (much as we fled that trailer a few years ago when a wildfire threatened). I ask myself what inanimate objects are irreplaceable enough for me to rescue under similar circumstances. Not being terribly attached to things, I don’t know that I could come up with even ten favorites – but here are five....
5. The guitar I bought just last year has quickly become a favorite thing. My old Gibson seemed too narrow in the neck after I’d gotten used to an Ovation nylon, but that was a bit bulky for sitting around with. I used to take a Martin backpacker (also nylon stringed) with me on trips East or to Flag – easy to transport, but it sounded like a ukulele. The Seagull Coastline Grand is just a dandy little instrument with a nice full sound. Replaceable, granted, but since the tone is supposed to improve with playing I’d want to save it.
4. Back when I used to haunt used bookstores, I’d always check to see if they had a reasonably priced first edition of V. by Thomas Pynchon on the shelf. Being a long-time, die-hard Pynchon freak, I considered it as much of a quest as that of its protagonist Herbert Stencil for the meaning of a mysterious initial. One storekeeper gently chided that I wouldn’t likely stumble on one at random because no bookseller would fail to recognize its value, and whenever I did come across a copy it’d usually be in a locked case and cost a couple hundred bucks. After some patient on-line searching, I finally found a third printing in good condition for just $45 – a teensy bit cocked and missing a front endpaper but with a nice jacket, so it scratched my itch just fine. Replaceable perhaps (as is my favorite edition of the TTC), but not at that price.
3. My Creative Zen MX 16-gig mp3 player is the latest in a series of repositories for the music that matters to me. I’m constantly (dare I say obsessively?) fiddling with its content, and it’s nice to know that I could leave behind all of the CD’s I’ve accumulated over the years and not miss them because I had my Zen. Device replaceable – content only with considerable replication of effort.
2. Another book worth saving would be my own, a novel that I completed back in the early 90s and then spent ten years beating my head against a wall trying to get published. I’ve gotten that frustration out of my system, but the work itself is nearer and dearer to me than a couple of other attempts at literary immortality, so the manuscript (or rather its e-file) would be something I’d want to rescue. Irreplaceable.
1. Fortunately I wouldn’t have to expend any effort to rescue my #1 item, because it resides on the third finger of my left hand, a band of titanium with two inset circles of gold. It’s a reminder that after years of farting around I finally found the love of my life. We ordered them from a craft dealer at the 4th Avenue street fair in Tucson, constantly looking over our shoulders lest anyone we knew see us since our wedding plans were under wraps; the day we put them on, in a registry office in Edinburgh, Scotland, is one I’ll not forget. Perhaps replaceable as a “thing” – but it’s way more than that.
Anyone who knows me will recognize that two of the five have to do with music, another two with the written word, reflecting the consuming interests of a lifetime. But anyone who knows me well will recognize that the other reflects a quest whose satisfaction was a lot more meaningful than the quest for V., whether Stencil’s or my own.
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