Things fall apart.
I went to the roof yesterday to read (a book of essays by Marion Winik), have a sunset cocktail. To my shock and horror, an old willow loveseat that I’ve had for at least 20 years appeared to be smashed. Had it finally succumbed to the abuse of outdoor life, especially the 9 inches of rain we had ten days ago? Or had someone smashed it? (The roof is more accessible than I’d like and there were some bad neighbors, although I thought they had moved.)
The collapsed/broken/smashed loveseat saddened me. I remember the store where I bought it in, a very progressive place, given the time and location, in Northwest San Antonio. On the same day, I purchased an old pine chest from England, which I use as a coffee table to this day.
In my 20s, I was strangely bourgeois. (This didn’t really change, it’s just not so strange now.) I wanted a “home” — a place where the furniture looked semi-intentional, where some aesthetic was in play, however poor or cliche it might be. The first time I came into a little windfall, I bought a rolltop desk. (Damaged by movers, later deeded to a friend.) As a sophomore in college, I bought a chest of drawers from a moving sale in Chicago and transported it back to my dorm by taxi. On assignment as a reporter in Waco, Texas, I wandered into the antique stores of Central Texas. I still have the table I bought in Rosebud, the Orange Crush thermometer from Gatesville. The first sofa seemed nothing less than a rite of passage, a huge commitment at the age of 24. I held on to it for sixteen years.
I’ve never understood this obsession, this rush to own things. And now that so many of them are gone — given away, sold at my own yard sales, destroyed by the elements — it seems sillier still. Still, no regrets.
A unexpected/forgotten check arrived yesterday — found money if you will. I went and looked at art, primarily Baltimore artists I happen to like. No commitments, but I’m mulling. Maybe that will seem silly, too, in twenty years. But I bet I won’t regret it.
If a check arrived today — enough by your standards to treat yourself, but not so much that you would feel obligated to spend it on bills and serious things, how might you spend it? What objects matter to you? How has that changed in 20 years? Ten? Five?
My “found” money would purchase some type of art. Having lived through owning lots and then owning nothing, you certainly do reevaluate what is important to you. Even though I’ve always loved paintings and sculptures etc. I’ve lately been interested in glass pieces. As my children no longer live with me, I’ve found more time to think about what I like and what’s important.
Something that “sings” to my senses would be just the ticket.
20 years ago I have no doubt it would have been clothes. May be a fur coat or something ostentatious. Now I don’t feel the need to impress.
Funny you ask: a surprise check did show up recently. But almost all of it has been put into the bottomless “home improvement” fund. (Well, okay… maybe I’ll take a little and put it into the bottomless “book buying” fund.) The Bride and I do feel this compulsion to take any extra cash we may have and invest it in the house.
I’ve had a couple of opportunities the last few years to go kayaking on the Eastern Shore, and in New Jersey. Being so close to the water is much more enjoyable for me than powerboating or sailing. As I write this it’s a gorgeous autumn day in Baltimore. My fingers are on the keyboard, but my mind is somewhere along the Patapsco.
I’d use my unexpected windfall to finally “take the plunge” and get my own kayak.
A rug, a warm colorful rug for in front of the fireplace! My living room is oh so dull. (This happened because my husband actually wanted to have input into the decor and, in a now regretted spirit of compromise, I agreed that he could. He bought a used dark brown leather sofa and loveseat-actually very high quality even used-but very, very deary!!!) I’ve been hoping for that unexpected cash for a colorful rug for awhile now (throws over the sofa only do so much and tend to end up being used by the dog as a blanket).
I tempted to say an eight ball of coke and beer, but that’s not me. So, I’m thinking invest in a new TV for my soon to be apartment. (I haven’t found it yet, but soon to be is closer than it was yesterday.)
I would spend it on travel. The memories and experiences aren’t sold, given away, or destroyed by the elements. They are forever with me.
Years ago, it would have been clothes for work and shoes for fun. Later, books and music. However, in my early 20s I took out a promissory note from the Nat’l Bank of Washington to travel to the British Isles, so I guess I have not changed all that much
It was a gorgeous, autumn day in D.C., too. I met a colleague for lunch at Clyde’s and convinced the staff to set up a table outside. Dreamy and a memory for the winter to come.
Laura, did you finally sell (or destroy) the wagon wheel coffee table?
I’ve always been in debt – or so it seems so windfalls always go toward bills. The only exception was when my dad died. He didn’t leave much – we took some of the money and took a trip to New Orleans which we still cherished and which still brings great memories. Later when some more money showed from some account that didn’t show up right away, I once again bought “an experience” with it and went to the National Figure Skating Championships for a week. A probably once in a lifetime experience and one I remember as if it were last week, rather than 10 years ago.
So things I’d NEVER do otherwise rate high. Trips. A convention I wanted to get to maybe. A trip to another skating championship which is my idea of nirvana. Finding a way to send Stu to the Burgess Shale. Many years ago when I was married for a short time, a friend’s wedding gift was theater tickets and I always liked what she said – that it was a time for creating memories. I later used that advice and bought friends who were, like me, pretty broke, dinner at a great fancy restaurant in San Francisco for right after they got married.
Events, experiences. More than things. There was that time it was a thing – our oak dining table which I just HAD to have, about the only time I ever felt that way about furniture. Bur a rare choice, just like the Frye boots I once HAD TO buy when a windfall came my way 20 mumble years ago.
Drums.
To keep the neighbors from doing a homicide it would have to be an electric set with headphones. After watching 67 yr old Ginger Baker on the ‘Cream Live At The Royal Albert Hall’ dvd I’m convinced that if I picked up the sticks again my 51 would be the new 31.
–john–
You didn’t mention a wagon wheel coffee table, Laura. And I doubt you ever owned one. I just thought it could have fit somewhere within all your old furniture.
Your story reminded me of this ugly couch we had when I was growing up. It was some kind of orange pattern. I called it the “pizza couch” with the idea that you could drop a pizza on it and never know. The name stuck.
Anyway, the wagon wheel coffee table was just a feeble attempt at humor. Prompted by Harry and Sally, of course.
To respond to the found money thread…
I would buy every book and every DVD and every CD I ever wanted. A sound system that would let me do my own mixing and taping.
I would create the ultimate home gym with exercise equipment, weights, punching bags.
And I would create a home recording studio so I could create my own music, and I would buy giutars, drums, and keyboards and leanr how to play them.
I want to see DEAD MAN WALKING!
I have the music, but I keep skipping it when it comes up on the iPod. It’s just not the right vibe for bicycling.
Like Duane, we did have a few bucks fall into our laps. In the past, I might have spent it on a new guitar and a trip to the beach, but instead we replaced a few windows and bought new furniture. Hopelessly bourgeois, I know, but the sofa and chair had been with us for fifteen years and with two big dogs who spend their days moving from one soft surface to another, the upholstery was looking ragged.
And we’re going to the beach next weekend.
Lately, I’ve been more of a hoarder than spender. Our times seem so much more uncertain, so I tend to squirrel any extra money away. Still, I might be persuaded to spend it on the nest in the form of bird friendly native plants. More likely, though, I’d put it into reserve, awaiting approval from the dog rescue group we’re registered with. Besides wanting to adopt every single dog they have, I’m going to want to give them every cent I have to continue the work they do.
What a provocative question! These days, any significant sum goes to expenses. But I do hanker after two toys — a digital camera of my own and a digital camcorder. I love to take pictures and am only just now involved in enough movie-recordable activities to make keeping video records desirable. Intersting that the underlying desire is to hang on to memories. I don’t often feel the passing of years as “getting older”, but I am becoming increasingly sensitive to the importance of cherishing people and events every moment.
Twenty years ago — wow, there’s a thought! Still in graduate school with a toddler in the house; what couldn’t we have splurged on! It probably would have been spent on nice clothes and/or shoes; those were real treats back then. Ten years ago I was (all unknowingly) on the cusp of a new life. I probably would have treated my daughter to something nice to compensate for having to relocate away from her friends. Five years ago it would have been a trip — probably to New York — to celebrate the upcoming empty nest as my daughter left for college.
I always splurge on books and music, so those don’t count
Guitars. A Martin D-28 for starters, then maybe one of those National metal-bodied guitars for blues and slide. Anything left over, I’d buy a Gibson Les Paul electric and a big-ass amplifier.
John S. — I confess, I’ve lost my own thread and, perhaps, my ability to grasp humor. Did I say I had a wagon-wheel coffee table or was I citing it as an example of the eternal battle over taste? (When Harry Met Sally . .. ) Or did I have one and forget that I had one? That’s not improbable.
At any rate, my found money found its way to a subscription to the Baltimore Opera. I had already promised to take someone to La Traviata and La Boheme, and when I was trying to get decent tickets to La Traviata, I concluded that the odds to getting the Sunday tickets I needed for La Boheme, which is slated for May, were very long. So I ponied up for a subscription to the rest of the season — La Sonnambula and Dead Men Walking.
It makes me sound far more cultured than I am.
I am a bit backward I’ll admit. As a teenager I collected furniture and objects for my hope chest. Back then I would be spending money at yard sales, thrift stores and catalogues gathering wares for my “adult life”. Later I would spend it on DOING something rather than HAVING something. I spent my first sum of unexpected money (the life insurance funds from my father’s death) on of all things- a wedding. Well, that was doing something I suppose. While I was married I went to a wholelotta concerts and collected more cd’s than can be easily moved. There was a time in my life, after I was divorced, when I was always spending money to go somewhere new, see a new play, eat at a new place etc. At other times I was obsessed with buying plants and flowers, but then gardening could count as doing something, couldn’t it?
The ojects in my life have come and gone. I always say that my life is preparing me to become a buddist. Through divorce, and moving to smaller and smaller places, I have given away almost everything I have owned. I’m down to that old hope chest and a chair that was from my mom and dad’s first household …and the cd’s, well a few boxes anyway.
If a check arrived today though, now that is a good question. Here I am planning to marry once again with a new house on the horizon…would I speed off to the airort with reckless abandon for a new destination? Perhaps see one of my favorite bands on the European leg of their tour, or eat Thai food in Thailand? Or would I put it toward new flooring or fancy hanging lights?
If I lived in a place that could accomodate both, a grand piano and a pinball machine.
Vickie,
When I returned from the service, everything I owned fit into two footlockers. Now, those same two footlockers hold just a few of our blankets and some board games. Aside from books, music and guitars ( a resonator, a Martin 00-18, and a Les Paul with a big ass amplifier – eat your heart out, Dusty), I’d like to divest our lives of a lot of crap. Way too much stuff for two people.
But I do love my new club chair.
Did anyone else hear Rivers of Weezer on Howard Stern earlier this week? (I told you — I’m no highbrow.) Anyway, he says he’s given away most of his stuff, lives very simply.
He’s also been celibate for, IIRC, eighteen months. Says it helps with focus. Hmmmm. I think I’ll just keep drinking the pink Vitaminwater.
I love Vickie’s phrase “my life is preparing me to be a buddhist.” I think that’s a very traditional arc. We acquire, take things on, and then we find joy in giving things away, lightening our load.
I’ve read that if one has an offsite storage locker, then one has too much stuff. On the other hand — my backlist is beginning to take over the basement. Suggestions?
Extra money? Hmmm. A trip to Baltimore from my home here in Oklahoma with my wife (from Colombia) and my daughter who is 8. I would show them where I lived, where my mother is buried, eat some crabs and a greasy cheesesteak sub. I’d show my girls miles and miles of marble steps and the first Washington Monument. I’d try to look up my long-lost half brother and introduce him to my family.
Yeah – that’s the ticket!
I got a modest lump sum of money in June when my grandfather’s will cleared, and used it to cover exactly this kind of a purchase (i.e. not something impossibly extravagant, but something you wouldn’t normally buy for yourself even if you could technically afford it): an iPod. Interesting to think about: it’s a clear way of organizing priorities, no, to speculate about what you’d do with an unexpected five hundred dollars or so? Get much more than that, and you feel like you have to do something super-sensible like put it in the retirement account…
How about a present for the wife…a 3 carat anniversary ring and sling to carry her arm.
I reject the notion that renting an off-site storage unit = too much stuff. Some of us live in really little townhouses with no garages or basements and limited closet space and recently-graduated college students living at home until they figure out What They Want To Be When They Grow Up. The storage unit is the only thing keeping me sane
<em>If a check arrived today — enough by your standards to treat yourself, but not so much that you would feel obligated to spend it on bills and serious things, how might you spend it?</em>
We went to Bonhams & Butterfields SOMA auction preview last Saturday for the first time in forever and poked around. We submitted bids on a few items at prices sometimes far below the auction estimates. Absentee, of course, so we wouldn’t get carried away.
When I checked back yesterday, I found that we had the winning bid (for less than the cost of an upscale dinner) for a c1850 gilt and black lacquer two-tier jubako! It’s beautiful. Somewhat but not quite like <a href=”http://www.jcollector.com/stores/hosoge/items/101671/catphoto.jpg”>this</a>.
Simple black lacquer with a gold family crest centered. We plan to use it as a place to stash away small treasures.
It is gorgeous, a treasure in itself. But what is a jubako? How did you get interested in them?
A jubako is a tiered lacquer box used to store food that’s been prepared for some occasion — an upscale bento box in a way. Fancy ones are often used to present food prepared for New Year’s. I’d bought one years back at the Goodwill, a four-tier box with one of the tiers missing — which is why it was at the Goodwill. That one had a nice design of cranes and pines. We gave it to our older son when we made the big move last year.
When I saw this one last Saturday, I realized it was just what we needed to store small treasures instead of our usual shoe boxes or whatever.