Friday, October 01, 2010
Loser
I am such a loser. Have been all of my life. Here’s an example, a trick that I have perfected through repetition. In cold weather, I drive along with my gloves in my lap. It’s warm in the car, I don’t need to wear gloves in there, but I will when I park. At my destination, I hop out of the car, both gloves fall onto the pavement and I don’t notice until too late. Not for me to produce a “Stray Glove” as Jonathan Nashel dubbed those singletons in his Michiana Chronicle in 2004.
Beginning from about the third grade, I can compile a list of articles that have dropped from my possession like leaves falling from a tree in autumn, traditionally thought of as the season of loss. You probably would do well to stalk me for the booty, because these are not just pennies from my pockets. Some of my losses, most of them, in fact, are good stuff: pairs of leather gloves, gold bracelets, a watch, rings, and a fountain pen are some of the things that I have never seen again. Once I even lost a pair of trousers, but that turned out not to be as risqué as it sounds. My dry cleaning got mixed up with someone else’s. Even with that minor recovery though, the list is embarrassingly long, and the missing items didn’t even get a decent send-off. “So what? It’s just stuff,” you say, but when you anthropomorphize your possessions, as I do, you feel badly when they go away and you didn’t at least say “good-by.” How rude!
Rob Walker recently wrote in the New York Times Sunday Magazine, “Ask anybody about the most meaningful object he owns, and you are sure to get a story . . . The relationship between the possessions we value and the narratives behind them is unmistakable.”
Generally, the stories of my possessions include their provenance and anecdotes of adventures that they and I have had together. “My friend, Patsy, gave me this scarf. One of her former students started a business making them, and I wore it to the Pittsburgh Symphony when we went to Heinz Hall to see Pinchas Zukerman conduct.” “This ring was my Father’s. It was made from a German coin by his Uncle Alvin when he was in Europe in World War I, and he brought it home to Daddy when he was just a little shaver.” It may just be “stuff,” but it has a life of its own: a history. (Do you name your cars? Think how much time you spend together, how you trust your life with it. How could you not name it? I certainly do, although so far, I haven’t managed to lose one of those.)
The fact that I have such a bond with possessions, I think indicates that I don’t lose them from lack of caring, but rather from carelessness. There is a distinction. Once they are gone, I am not unmoved. I care a great deal. Mourning and self-flagellation follow the realization of my loss. I hate it that I have separated from them at all, much less in such a hasty fashion. A slow leave-taking is my preferred method of operation. The family joke is, “When Jeanette says good-by, sit down; it will be at least twenty minutes before we actually leave.”
“All that you have will one day be given,” says Kahlil Gibran. Yes, but I’m not ready yet! In my tight-fisted retentive way, I want to hang onto my “stuff,” my treasured possessions-slash-friends for a bit longer. I have yet to master the lessons of simplification and selflessness, and I am not appreciative of this involuntary assistance that comes my way.
The side effect of this “loserness” is a hesitation to purchase anything too nice because of how terrible I will feel if I lose it, or, if I do succumb and purchase it, a hesitation to take it out of the house. The latter is probably the only reason that I have anything left at all. The things not allowed to leave the house are my proof that all is not lost.
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A random pick from more than 460 Michiana Chronicles -- refresh the browser to see another set:
April Lidinsky -- More essays by April
Joe Chaney -- More essays by Joe
Ken Smith -- More essays by Ken
Jeanette Saddler Taylor -- Loser / More essays by Jeanette
Heather Curlee Novak -- More essays by Heather
David James -- More essays by David
Elizabeth Van Jacob -- More essays by Elizabeth
Jeff Nixa -- More essays by Jeff
Louise Collins -- More essays by Louise
Jonathan Nashel -- More essays by Jonathan
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About the series
Michiana Chronicles is a series of radio essays by Jonathan Nashel, Louise Collins, Joe Chaney, Jeanette Saddler Taylor, Jeff Nixa, April Lidinsky, Ken Smith, Heather Curlee Novak, David James, and Elizabeth Van Jacob.
Michiana is the region of north-central Indiana and southern Michigan roughly centered on South Bend, Indiana.
Michiana Chronicles airs on Fridays at 7:35 a.m. and 12:30 p.m. on WVPE (88.1 FM), the home of public radio in Elkhart / South Bend, Indiana.
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Recent pieces
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