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An Essay On Luggage
Luggage
The picture: me, standing in front of an airline terminal. It is cold,
dark and blowing - this is, after all, Detroit on New Years Eve. I am
stranded. In my care is a pile of suitcases, stuffed with the
necessities of a family vacation and the pillage we returned with.
My wife and children are off trying to retrieve our auto, and
ultimately the luggage and me.
Somebody HAD to stay behind to watch the luggage! It wouldn't fit
in the shuttle bus. Six big suitcases and a bunch of carry ons, piled
precariously on a Handee Cart, had become my master. I couldn't go
inside to warm up unless I dragged it all in with me. I couldn't even
THINK about using the bathroom! I was stuck.
Why is this stuff so valuable? Without it, I could have walked to
the car. I could have hitchhiked or even walked home. But there I
stood - guarding it from all onslaughts with my very life. Immobile.
Trapped.
It occurred to me that the possessions and trappings of my life are
very much like that. It is fine to possess anything I want or need.
Possessions are the physical fruits of my most precious resource:
the time of my life. Our family's survival depends to one degree or
another on shelter, food and medical care. The tools of my trade are
used to convert the time of my life into a tangible form which has
redeemable value for all of these things. Over and above these are
the things we take pleasure in, including toys, collectibles, musical
instruments and the like.
It is fine to possess them - but to what degree do these THINGS
possess us? Most things require care of one sort or another,
requiring more of the time of our lives. Repairs and improvements
are needed, and they cost time and money. As we pile stuff on top
of things, we need more space to store and have less space to live.
Isn't it interesting that a major selling point of most homes is the
amount of storage space? WE don't need more room - our STUFF
does! Who is really in control here?
The more I own, the more trapped I become by it. The more I like
the stuff I have, the less I am able to walk away from it. There I
stand - guarding it from all onslaughts with my very life. Immobile.
Trapped.
Feed it, dust it, clean it, repair it, store it, live for it. What is it
REALLY worth? All value is ultimately translated into a
commodity which has unknown future availability, which cannot be
reserved, preserved or redeemed at any price. This is, of course, the
time of our lives.
Jesus said, "For where a man's treasure lies, there will his heart be."
The problem isn't in ownership - it is in the cost of ownership.
What is your luggage worth to you?
c Peter J. Celano, 1996. All rights reserved.
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