That really resonates with me. In my dotage, I've begun to acutely feel the weight of my possessions...most of which are books, movies, and cds. I've been trying to clean up for awhile now, but I haven't managed to get very far. I do have some renewed interest in this endeavor, however, due to a recent ER experience.
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This is The Short Version. I may get around to The Long Version at some point...mostly along the lines of A Public Service Announcement For People Who Are As Stupid or Stupider Than I Am...but I might not, too. Even I have some limits on the Growing Up in Public With Your Pants Down schtick. So, SV: I went to the emergency room in the middle of the night with some serious chest pain. They clocked my heart at 150+ beats per minute, put me into a cubicle, and put some nitroglycerine under my tongue. Almost instantly my heart rate plunged to 30 beats per minute. And everything went dark. I felt like I was about to puke my internal organs out, sweat burst from my body, and I truly truly thought that I was going to die right then and there. And this thought floated through my head:
So on the plus side, I gained some insight as to what my Last Thought in This Life would be. And I'm kind of happy to know that it was a thought for 2/3rds of my kids, not something stupid like, "Ouch, that really hurts!" or "Why oh why didn't I fuck her?" etc. I hope that I do as well next time this comes around.
So as soon as I got out of the hospital and was able to stand up without sending my heart into overdrive, I started cleaning up. It's pretty daunting, since there is so much stuff...and I get discouraged pretty quickly...and there are lots of other things I'd rather be doing at any given time...but I'm going to keep at it. One lesson I've learned from my Short Readings Every Day missions is that you can accomplish a lot if you just keep at it.
One of the biggest obstacles I have to overcome is the gigantic mass of books I've accumulated over the years. It's not ALL my fault. I have two ex-wives who both decided to take what they wanted with them and leave the rest, and a lot of the rest was books they didn't want. But I have to admit that most of the debris is my fault. And I don't want to throw them away. I've tried to sell a few things on Ebay, but that's a lot more work than I want to do. I've taken some tubs of books up to Half-Price Books, but what they give you for them is enough to make you cry. And I just haven't had the energy to try a yard sale approach. Hey...you want some books cheap? I've got just about everything, for real. Drop me a line, we'll tawk.
Ironically, in the midst of all this sturm und drang, I happened upon this on the Biblio.com website:
Isn't it beautiful? It's a first edition set of Buckle's A History of Civilization in England...so volumes I and II were published in 1857, and volume III in 1861. And get this...it's only $250.00.
I want it. And I do have $250 I could spend on it.
But...I already have a very nice (1894) set of these books. And I'm trying to get RID of books, not acquire more. And $250 is a lot of money for three books.
So it's not reasonable to want to buy this set. Not at all. Why, then, do I want it?
I have found that many times in the past I want things pretty desperately until I have them, and then the desire goes away. (I am not talking about women here, by the way...I have actually never experienced romance in that way. Although I have most definitely been on the other end of that stick. Repeatedly.) But that has always been with something I didn't have or couldn't get anywhere else. This time, it's something I already have, it's just a better version. It's as if some part of me really believes that I get closer to Henry Thomas Buckle himself by putting my hands on this first edition of his works. Which is just silly, of course. But in a way, isn't that what drives most of us to cling to material possessions? I have a crucifix that I wear every day which is precious to me because it belonged to my (step) grandfather. I just found one on Etsy that looks just like it which costs $12. But I wouldn't sell mine for $1,000. Seriously. Why? Because my grandfather wore it. Because it carries a part of his memory in its atoms. Because it is, in fact, him to me. It's not just me, right? You have some stuff that's not worth anything but is a true treasure to you, don't you?
Maybe it is just me.
There's some big thought hiding in this, though. Something about how we press our memories and desires into things. I think it has something to do with religious rituals as well. And perhaps with why I like old style Catholic churches. We connect to the infinite via the mundane. We invest the mundane with our love, hope, desire, dreams. They become peep holes into the infinite.
I think I'm going to be needing those Buckle books.
Maybe if I hold out a little longer somebody else will buy them and that way I can just say, "Damn it, I should have gone for it!" and that will be that.
Cause I'm sure there's a huge demand for 160 year old, $250 books by a guy that nobody has ever heard of.
P.S. Well...there's a Make An Offer option on Biblio.com...so I did. I offered $100. It was rejected. $110 No. $125? No. $130? No. Sigh.
P.P.S. 3/7/19: $140? Nope. $150? Nope.
P.P.P.S. 3/12/19: $175? Nope. $185? Nope.
P.P.P.P.S. 3/18/19: I was just going to walk away, you know? But then I had to go to the hospital...and my portion of the bill was almost $3,000...and I thought, what the fuck? So I went back to the website and put in a $200 offer. And I got a notice which said
Oh, my. Is it possible? Be still, my beating heart. News as it happens.
Delayed P.P.P.P.P.S. 4/4/19: Thinks have been a little slippery lately, so I didn't get around to "finishing" that story. I got a message saying that my offer of $200 was accepted, and that for $200 + $10.90 for shipping + $4.00 for shipping (?) the books could be mine. And on the one hand, that was almost the offer I had made...but adding in that $10.90 just seemed like a shitty thing to do, you know? The website had already stated that the shipping was $4.00, so what the fuck? And that shiftiness was just enough for me to lose my enthusiasm and think, "I've already got this book. Why am I willing to pay so much money for a book I already have?" And I just dropped it. Not without regret, but I just really hate pushy people. I'll gladly let you into traffic, but if you try to force your way in, forget it, you know? I don't believe in rewarding people for acting like assholes. So I guess that's it for the saga of the first edition of History of Civilization in England. Unless, of course, it shows up at Half-Price Books.
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