The Disease Known as Pack-Rat-itis

I had a bit of a revelation today whilst cleaning my room.

I have SO MUCH SHIT!

That's not the revelation; it was merely an observation. Clothes, books, shoes scarves...just so much STUFF. And I know I'm not the only one. Why do most human beings feel the need to hoard things?

I know it's partially connected to social evolution. I remember this from Brian Catlos' World to 1500 class. Or was it Anthropology 1? Or both? Anyway, When human beings were mobile hunter-gatherers, it was impractical to have a lot of belongings; it would only weigh one down and hinder one from effectively hunting/gathering necessary nourishment. Not completely related but a little detail I remember is that during that time, human beings had circular houses: easy to assemble and just the right amount of protection for people on the move. Not practical for long-term stays.

At some point, when human beings figured out herding and farming, we transitioned to lifestyles that would better suit our newly found sedentary ways, i.e. hoarding supplies and possessions and having rectangular houses. Why go out hunting every day when you can cure and store the meat? Why go out and buy toilet paper every day when you can go to Costco and buy a 48 pack and store it in the garage?

Thus, for hundreds of years, for convenience and in the name of stability and plenty, human beings have hoarded things. This isn't necessarily bad; having those spare rolls of toilet paper is an extremely convenient thing. The point of contention I'm try to get at is when human beings hoard crap: tchotchkes, old papers, things with sentimental value. Perhaps calling those things "crap" is a bit judgemental. "One man's trash is another man's treasure," as they say. But for the most part, they are things that are unnecessary for daily living, on a physical level anyway. Perhaps for some people, having these things is necessary for functioning on an emotional level. But it's something that I've struggled with for as long as I can remember.

It was particularly bad when I was younger. I used to hold on to EVERYTHING: movie tickets stubs, programs from concerts, every pair of running shoes I ever had, every t-shirt I got from a cross country or track meet, or from traveling. Unfortunately, I still have the shoes and a lot of the shirts. And as I was cleaning today, I had a battle in my head about throwing them out. And I think I'm finally ready. Sometimes it just takes the passage of time for the disconnection of object + associated emotion to happen.

In getting rid these things though, of course I want to make sure I properly recycle or donate them (as a responsible citizen of Planet Earth) if at all possible, and in searching for ways to get rid of my old running shoes, I came across Nike's Reuse-A-Shoe program on a Googled list of recycling options which had this blurb:

"Sure it is nice to go and buy a new pair of sneakers, wear them proudly in the store, walk a little in them to test their features, enjoy the new comfort for your feet, go back home with the brand new shoe box to open like a birthday gift. It is also true though that the sight of the good old pair in the shoe cabinet, and the idea to have to toss them away, is one of the most painful experiences for every runner. It is natural to go back with the memory to the roads shared together, the distances covered, the mud, the rain, the rocky paths, the melting asphalt. You think how faithfully your old pair of shoes have protected your feet, in how many occasions they have been your inseparable friends. It would not be fair just to throw them in the trash bin. Here we are: for those who do believe in the reincarnation of running shoes, we compiled a list of recycling programs around the world. There is a Heaven also for old running shoes."

My thoughts, in a nutshell. It's nice to know I'm not the only one.

And that's what it comes down to: human beings hold on to things because they are associated with memories. And memories are important to us because they are occurrences in the past that have contributed in the shaping of the person we have become. What is a life anyway, other than a set period of time in which one experiences and accomplishes things in the name of self-realization?

Moving back to the States from Japan would be one of the most gut-wrenching examples of this disease of hoarding I keep talking about. 3 years of accumulating cute, exotic things, fashionable unique clothing, and those aforementioned sentimental things: letters from students, pictures, presents. The last two weeks in my apartment, I was surrounded these 3 years worth of accumulated things, with Japan Post boxes, costing $150 each to send by boat in 3 months back to America, the slowest, cheapest way possible. How in God's name do you decide what to bring back with you and what to get rid of? And with the attachment I have to things, hardest decisions of my life.

I remember taking a break from packing to go to the Board of Education to sign off some final paperwork and have my farewell ceremony with the BOE bigwigs and feeling completely overwhelmed. My friend Erich, another ALT, asked me what was wrong and I told him, and he say, immediately and very matter-of-factly, "Take pictures." What? "Take pictures of the things you can't bring with you," he said. "Digital photos weigh nothing, and if you ever want to look at the things, you will still have them." What a brilliant idea! Thank you, Erich, you wise sage. I hope he and his wife are doing well, and come to think of it, their baby must have been born by now. I hope that baby is happy and healthy and Erich is enjoying his new little family.

I'm really glad I took those pictures; I still have them. But the funniest thing is, 8 months later, I still have never sat down to look at them, and I'm not sure if I ever will. But it is comforting to know that I have them, even if on a full 2GB memory card. We human beings are strange creatures.

I have come to the conclusion that we keep and store and hoard our possessions as visual proof of our history and accomplishments. That's what it really comes down to, right? We hold on to things so that we can show them to other people as proof of what we have done with ourselves. I can tell you the stories as many times as I am I capable of doing, but if I show you a picture or give you something to hold in your hand and observe, won't you believe me that much more? I went to Japan, but how do you know that? Here's pictures of me with my Japanese public school students and climbing Mt. Fuji. No way, you ran Cross Country competitively for 8 years? Hell yeah I did, here are the stacks of t-shirts I accumulated from every meet and season, the race singlets, and the medals.

But does it all really matter? After the memories are gone and the self-realizations have been made, what is holding on to possessions for other than showing off and feeling like you have to prove to other people what you've done with your life? Can I just keep it inside and know in my own heart what I've accomplished and people be damned if they don't believe me?

So with that, into the donation bag go the old t-shirts, and to the recycling center go the old running shoes. The Japan Post boxes...they will have to wait for another day to be unpacked. It's too soon.