Ephemera

Our lives have always been full of things: Easter baskets, flashlights, toys, games, pictures, shoe horns, baseball bats, ashtrays, backstretches, DVDs, church keys, pitchers ... on and on ... more in our later life than in our earlier. And many, if not most, of these thing have disappeared to who knows where? How did they disappear? Is some child still schussing on my old skis or hopping around on my once pogo stick? Is some smoker still lighting up with my old Bic? I can recall many past images, but, for the life of me, can't remember the how, when or why they stole away. A few I would like to have back ... which begs the question -- why did I let them go?

But also, when I look around, I see many of my things that mean nothing to me anymore -- my old stamp collection, many pairs of shoes that I'll never again wear ... and ties ... and belts ... and garish Hawaiian shirts ... and even suits. Since I intend to be cremated, I might as well be wearing sweatpants and a T-shirt at the end.

So that old saying is true ... that we don't own things ... things own us. Ephemera can take over if we don't fight back. Trouble is ... fighting back gets harder the older we get ... a position I am currently in. Time to call 1-800-Got-Junk ... or the American Pickers.