We love stuff! Cars, clothes, cell phones, music, movies. STUFF! I used to feel guilty about it. Materialism was a taboo in the hippie generation I grew up in. But, little by little the stigma wore off. How could it not? Those Hopalong Cassidy guns I got on my 7th birthday held a place in my heart long after they took up lodging in the attic. That 1953 Ford convertible I bought for $60, with more \u201cBondo\u201d than sheet metal in the body, a heater that didn\u2019t work and only started when it was in the mood, tugs at my heartstrings to this day. Old sweaters, dusty-bucks, varsity jackets, they all draw me into a materialistic frame of mind. Old friends, lost in time. The guilt of \u201cloving stuff\u201d is still there, but it speaks in a quieter voice.<\/p>\n
My parents tried. \u201cYou can\u2019t love something that can\u2019t love you back,\u201d was my mother\u2019s constant admonishment. I heard it every time I said I loved something, \u201cI love my three-speed English bike\u201d. – \u201cI love my Levi dungarees,\u201d (we didn\u2019t call them jeans back then); \u201cI love my PF Flyers,\u201d (the hot sneaker of the day). All statements like that were met with the \u201cIt can\u2019t love you back\u2019\u201d lecture. My love of stuff was small, but strong. It\u2019s why I still have those Hoppy guns, and have purchased several \u201cantique\u201d three-speed bikes over the years to repair the hole in my heart that wants to retrieve the good feeling it gave me when I owned one 65 years ago. And, that 1953 Ford convertible! Oh, to sit behind the wheel, put the top down and drive to Quaker Lake would be heaven.<\/p>\n
Cars are a biggie, for a lot of people. Get them talking about their first car, no matter how much of a wreck it was, and you turn on a loudspeaker in their heart. The story comes out loud and clear and usually ends with, \u201cI wish I had that car now!\u201d In fact, most of the cars we left behind tug at our heartstrings. It\u2019s a divorce of sorts, when we \u201cdump\u201d them for a newer, shinier vehicle; but they become a part of who we are – an old friend who moved away. <\/p>\n
I usually carry around a canvas messenger bag with a notebook full of articles I\u2019ll probably never finish. I bought it on sale at the Old Navy Store in Ithaca for $15, thirty years ago. It\u2019s been sewn up here and there, and new wear spots appear at frequent intervals. It\u2019s just plain worn out! I\u2019ve searched on-line for a decade to find an exact replacement and bought a few that seemed a close match, but then always went back to the tattered original. Then, last month, I found the exact duplicate on E-Bay, thirty years old, but in almost new condition. It\u2019s with me now as I sit in the Owego Kitchen writing this article. My (new) old friend has moved back to town. It represents all the things I loved and lost. It\u2019s that \u201853 Ford convertible, that three-speed English bike and those PF Flyer sneakers. All things that couldn\u2019t love me back. <\/p>\n