My Life Can Be Summed Up In A Few Boxes

So I recently helped my parents move out of our house that had been home for the past 22 years or so. I haven't lived in that house consistently since I left home for college but my room pretty much didn't change one iota. Nirvana posters and other 90's band images I loved littered the walls. My closet was jammed pack with those same 90's bands iconic tour t-shirts (Airwalk sticker included on said closet door). I had boxes of love notes still hiding in tucked away places. Newspaper clippings of Bonds' pursuit of the single season home run record that my father clipped and saved for me while I was gaining a higher education. Photo albums of the good times in life otherwise known as not-adulthood. Treasured Dean Koontz and Michael Crichton novels. VHS tapes of my favorite childhood films (Gremlins, the Alien movies, the Star Wars trilogy, etc) and blank tapes filled with episodes of the original Melrose Place, My So-Called Life, and of course Saturday Night Live. I'm a pack rat by nature and nostalgia is one of my flaws. So going through my old living quarters as a 30 year old was a lot like digging up a time capsule from my preteens and adolescence. It was painful, enjoyable, and cathartic all at the same time. It wasn't quite the mind fuck I thought it would be, but it wasn't a walk in the park either. The surprising thing was how easy it was to let go of everything, to toss away these items that had meant so much to me (and probably still do) without much of a second thought. And that got the Macster thinking...

Life is sort of funny in that way. All through our lives we go about collecting things. Collecting these little tangible memories, whether it be a sports trophy, a photograph, a ticket stub, or a tour T-shirt. Something to remind us that we did something at that specific time in our life that was worth documenting and/or holding on to. And at the time, we probably think we'll hold on to these things forever. It's funny that as you grow older how insignificant some of these mementos tend to seem or how easy it is to discard them 5, 10, 15 years down the road. As I stripped my room of those majestic posters I had proudly pinned up years ago, as I threw away those personalized notes, collages, and keepsakes from friends and lovers, as I emptied my closet into one big donation pile, I couldn't help but laugh at the ridiculousness of human reminiscence. A parent will keep a lot of knickknacks from a child. Hand prints. Baby books. Things like that. The child turned adult will most likely spurn those things and wonder why parents hold onto them. Then once the child turned adult turns parent, the cycle repeats.

But really, the whole point of this entry is the idea and the realization that my past can be wrapped up in a few cardboard boxes. That home housed most of my possessions from age 9-19 along with the the slices of sentiment I brought home during my college summer vacations. Being the pack rat I am, I of course could not get rid of EVERYTHING but I'd say that I wound up keeping maybe 10%, most of that T-shirts. But really, when it was time to say goodbye once and for all to the sanctuary of my youth, I left with maybe 3 cardboard boxes. The rest had been discarded, donated, or destroyed. And what's that say about human nature? That you can take a large chunk of your life and wrap it up so tidily? Is it that we don't find too many things that important later on in life? Or is it that we just learn to let go and move on (which I'm pretty sure was what LOST was trying to tell us all along).

I'm not sure what the answer is. And although I did clear out a good portion of my boyhood, I am somewhat comforted that in the space that I live in now, I have a couple of Dean Koontz and Michael Crichton novels on my shelf. My walls are littered with collages and posters, they're just more fitting to my current adulthood. I have a pretty hefty DVD collection that includes the original Star Wars trilogy. I have photo albums, they're just digital. And I have DVR'd episodes of the new Melrose Place. So as much as things change, they stay the same. And I'm sure when I move from this place, the cleansing process shall start again. And while most of the things that personify Macster will be ditched, the new place will have remnants of the old. Because as much as we try to change or that we DO change, there's always the core of us that remains. And that in and of itself is comforting.

My Name is Macster and I Approve This Message

Comments

  1. AnonymousJune 2, 2010 at 11:42 AM

    i can't believe your parents are moving! i still have such clear memories of that house.

    and of course, i also remember drawing the nirvana face on tests before we took them, as if that would improve my score (it never did).

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