Chuck Roots
9 January 2017
www.chuckroots.com
It’s My Stuff
Sitting in
my man cave, aka the loft, I grow increasingly more concerned about my stuff.
You ask, “What stuff are you talking about?” Well, in answer to that staged
question: Everything!
At age 68
many of you will say something like, “You’re still a baby!” Compared to some of
you, that is true. But, the reality of the situation is I have far more years
of life behind me at this point than I do in front of me. This always gets me
thinking: What about all my stuff?
“Stuff” is
a euphemism for all those things that are mine which I have acquired during my
lifetime. Very little of it has any value in dollars and cents. In fact, most
of it is sentimental at best, and easily disposed of. And, to be perfectly
honest, I’m an inveterate saver. It is hard for me to get rid of anything. Even
old tennis shoes.
As I
reflect on my stuff, I envision the day when I leave this world behind and step
into heaven, only to be confronted by a sober-faced Saint Peter, wagging his
head from side-to-side, tsk-tsking me in that classic parental look of
disapproval. “Look what you’ve done!” he says to me. “You have left all your
stuff for your wife and kids to dispose of. What do you think they will do with
it? Is this how you want them to remember you?” I stand there duly chastised
without a word offered in my defense. I’ve known for a number of years that I
should have taken care of all of my stuff by disposing of it in an orderly
manner. But, as yet, I haven’t.
Think
about it! I may not want to part with my stuff just yet, but I do have it on
very good authority that I will not make it out of this life alive! This means
that if I don’t divest myself of my accumulated stuff, someone will have to do
it.
For
instance, my clothes closet. Mine is small by comparison to my wife, but even
at that, I have way more clothing draped on hangers than I could ever need in
my remaining time on earth. I must have 25-30 golf shirts hanging up. And
nearly that many dress shirts mixed with other types of shirts that are not
golf shirts. Then there are the slacks neatly hanging awaiting my use of them.
But since I am retired, my normal attire each day is either a golf shirt and
shorts, or blue jeans and a T-shirt. I still have several suits waiting for
Sunday church, but otherwise, they just hang. And neck ties. Lots of neck ties.
Then there’s
the clothing that is special. What I mean by special is clothing that falls
into the category of military uniforms. I enlisted in the Marine Corps 48 years
ago. I still have those uniforms – even my camouflaged uniform from Vietnam! Later
as a naval officer, I accumulated yet more uniforms, retiring in 2008 with 34
years of service. Once or twice a year I may wear one of my uniforms for a
military event. I even have a flack jacket, “deuce gear”, helmet, and back pack,
plus other paraphernalia that is no longer used because it has all been
replaced in the military supply system.
I also
have costumes and dress outfits hanging in the guest closet that are part of my
involvement in singing in two barbershop choruses. The white tuxedo jacket
looks great on stage under the klieg lights, but where else would you wear it? Or
a costume depicting a peon or esne from the Middle Ages. It fits the part when
everyone else in the chorus is dressed in period costuming, but otherwise, it
looks stupid. Well, maybe I’d fit in in certain parts of San Francisco!
I have so
much other stuff! For instance, my collection of books. As a minister, I have a
wide variety of religious themed works that can all be found on the Internet
now. Even I use my iPad Bible app in church! That’s nearly enough for me to be
declared an apostate! I have a vast number of books on the American Civil War. I
love my books! But I don’t need them so much anymore, even though I still try
to convince myself otherwise.
Then there’s
my lifelong collection of coffee mugs acquired from traveling around the world.
Who wants this? And my pile of military “challenge” coins. These are really
cool, but may mean absolutely nothing to anyone else. A number of these coins
were given to me by high ranking officers (generals and admirals) and various
government officials whom I have served with or met, along with challenge coins
others have graciously given to me from all ranks throughout my time in the
military. Each has a story that resonates with a time and place in my life. Oh,
and T-shirts. Man, do I have T-shirts!
Ah! How
could I forget the stuff on my “I love me” wall! Certificates, awards, plaques,
academic accomplishments, special photos, a shadow box, etc. Those of us in the
military jokingly refer to these personal items as the “I love me” wall.
Perhaps a few of these things will be saved by family members. Perhaps.
But the pièce de
résistance would have to be my exercise equipment. I
have hundreds of pounds of barbells, dumbbells and other devices for bodily
torture sitting in my personal gym, otherwise known as the garage. There’s the
punching bag, the jogging machine, the Roman Chair, the bench press and
leg-lift equipment. I figure all this will probably disappear in a garage sale.
In
reflection, it’s all just stuff. But it’s my stuff. At least for now.
But I
really should begin getting rid of a lot of this stuff. After all, I want my
wife, children and grandchildren to have fond memories of me when I’m gone. For
them to have to help truck a bunch of stuff out of the house may tarnish my
image a bit.
Being a
life-long procrastinator, I’ll start on getting rid of my stuff next week!
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