I live on what might be called a "typical suburban street" in a small town in Alberta, Canada. Each house (approx. 2600 sq.ft. on the main floor) faces the street with a two car garage. There are many vehicles parked on the street. Could be any town in Canada except that there are too many trucks. This is the oil patch, after all. What is remarkable to me is that each short driveway sports at least one, often two vehicles, parked outside in the weather. Imagine: temperatures as high as 33° C in summer, as low as -35° C in winter, and your $60000 truck sits outside in front of a spacious two-vehicle garage! Sounds crazy, doesn't it. What could account for such a practice?
The short answer: "stuff."The random collection of toys, appliances, adult toys (ATVs and snowmobiles, canoes and snowblowers) and everything else that won't fit in the house. The expensive vehicles sit out and endure the weather! "Stuff" has been unpacked and described thoroughly by the comedian/social critic George Carlin, he of the scatalogical vocabulary. He tells us that North Americans not only collect fat around the waistline, but also around the house. We soon become so burdened by our "stuff"that we have to move to larger quarters just to accomodate all our possessions. There is a house in my general neighborhood with a large yard and a double garage, with five derelict cars taking up all the driveway space as well as part of the yard! Does Jed Clampett live there? (Remember 'The Beverley Hillbillys'?)
I can self-righteously claim that we can get both our vehicles inside our garage (see my halo?). However, books do have a tendency to breed and multiply in my home. The prospect of moving fills me with dread. Will I pay someone to move all this "stuff," or try and sort through and weed out some of it? When I was a young man, I thought of moving as an exciting adventure, new frontiers to cross, new experiences to be had! Today, it's packing and unpacking and paying the tarriff that dominates in my mind.
There's more to it than that, I'm afraid. At some point, as possessions proliferate, the things I own begin to own me. Decisions, even major life decisions, have to factor in 'what will I do with all this "stuff"?' It becomes a spiritual problem in many cases. I may want to take or volunteer in faraway place for a time. But then there's all this "stuff" to be considered.Will I store it? Taking it is not an option; giving it away is rarely considered. "Stuff" comes to rule my life.
I am never more conscious of this than when I watch the migration of the desperately poor through the desert to a refugee camp, without possessions and even without food. How would my spirit survive if I had to walk away from all I "own"? Would I have any brains at all without my books?
What about you? Do you ever have thoughts like this? Does your "stuff" take up too much room in your life? Are you "owned" by what you possess? Think about it.
The short answer: "stuff."The random collection of toys, appliances, adult toys (ATVs and snowmobiles, canoes and snowblowers) and everything else that won't fit in the house. The expensive vehicles sit out and endure the weather! "Stuff" has been unpacked and described thoroughly by the comedian/social critic George Carlin, he of the scatalogical vocabulary. He tells us that North Americans not only collect fat around the waistline, but also around the house. We soon become so burdened by our "stuff"that we have to move to larger quarters just to accomodate all our possessions. There is a house in my general neighborhood with a large yard and a double garage, with five derelict cars taking up all the driveway space as well as part of the yard! Does Jed Clampett live there? (Remember 'The Beverley Hillbillys'?)
I can self-righteously claim that we can get both our vehicles inside our garage (see my halo?). However, books do have a tendency to breed and multiply in my home. The prospect of moving fills me with dread. Will I pay someone to move all this "stuff," or try and sort through and weed out some of it? When I was a young man, I thought of moving as an exciting adventure, new frontiers to cross, new experiences to be had! Today, it's packing and unpacking and paying the tarriff that dominates in my mind.
There's more to it than that, I'm afraid. At some point, as possessions proliferate, the things I own begin to own me. Decisions, even major life decisions, have to factor in 'what will I do with all this "stuff"?' It becomes a spiritual problem in many cases. I may want to take or volunteer in faraway place for a time. But then there's all this "stuff" to be considered.Will I store it? Taking it is not an option; giving it away is rarely considered. "Stuff" comes to rule my life.
I am never more conscious of this than when I watch the migration of the desperately poor through the desert to a refugee camp, without possessions and even without food. How would my spirit survive if I had to walk away from all I "own"? Would I have any brains at all without my books?
What about you? Do you ever have thoughts like this? Does your "stuff" take up too much room in your life? Are you "owned" by what you possess? Think about it.
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