Packrat Love
The other day a friend of my was telling me that he was contemplating a big move, leaving the city that’s been his home for over a decade and returning to the town he came from. During the discussion, he told that if he goes through with it, he intends to take the opportunity to divest himself of all his worldly possessions, save for his awards, diplomas, laptop and the best of his clothes. All the rest, his furniture, TV, stereo, CD’s, DVD’s, books, pots, pans, linens, etc., he will sell, give away or toss, making his transition quick and easy.
“Everything else is easily replaceable,” he said. “I don’t need much to get by.”
I could never do this.
In some ways, I am envious. It’s a very zen/Jedi mindset to divest yourself from the need for possessions and truly understand the difference between necessity and materialism. But it makes me wonder, where’s the love?
I am a hoarder. A packrat. The walls of my library are covered by floor-to-ceiling bookshelves filled with thousands of books, comics, and CD’s (even though all the CD’s have long-since been converted to digital). I have all my old term papers and college notes, the Playboys I stole from my brother when I was 11. Old albums of photos, toys, action figures, posters and paintings. I have literally hundreds of DVD’s and VHS tapes, two working computers and two obsolete ones. I have an entire closet full of broken electronics in case I need to cannibalize them for parts, and my pantry looks like I’m preparing to survive a nuclear winter.
And really, I don’t want to give any of it up, because I love it all.
When I was a kid, I used to watch a TV Show called Amazing Stories. Some of you may be old enough to remember it. There was one episode called “Gather Ye Acorns” that starred Mark Hammill, who was visited by a troll who advised him to “never throw away anything you love, even if your mother tells you to.” This led Mark Hammill to become a bum who never made anything of his life, until one day, when he was contemplating suicide, he tried to sell some of his possessions to buy gas money in order to drive his car off the Hoover Dam. Of course, all the things he collected as a child were now collector’s items, and he quickly became a millionaire.
That episode, and that advice, has stuck with me my whole life, and not just because Mark Hammill was like unto a god to me at the time. I still think back and curse when I remember my mother forcing me to give away all my Star Wars toys because I was “too old to play with toys anymore”. And what was I thinking, selling all my Todd McFarlane Spider-Mans and Walt Simonson Thors to have spending money to date whatsername back in 1990? Those things would be worth a fortune now.
Not that I would ever sell them.
But with a few exceptions like that, I’ve held onto all the childish things I love, and lo and behold, I’ve managed to make a career out of it, writing and selling books of the sort I cherished so dearly as a child, like this:
The above picture is my personal copy of The Hobbit from 1982. It was the first book without pictures I ever read that wasn’t assigned by school. I’ve read it dozens and dozens of times. It set me on a path that made me the person I am today, and I love it like an old friend. It’s beat to shit as you can see, taped and glued to try and hold the broken spine and torn pages together, but it’s more valuable to me by far than the nice deluxe hardcover edition with color illustrations that my UK publisher sent to me last year. The scars this book carries tell the tale of decades at my side, in my knapsack, in my pocket, lying on the grass or in my bed, on vacation or in the car.
I even marked it, so everyone would know it was mine:
I’m all for electronic books. Once I see who wins the e-reader wars, I will run right out and buy a Kindle or Sony Reader or whatever. I love the idea of having thousands of books on one device I can take anywhere. And I expect that when I do buy one, the first book I purchase and read will be The Hobbit.
But that doesn’t mean it can replace the original in my heart. And who knows, maybe one of my paperbacks will have that same effect on some kid now. I can’t think of any greater compliment:
Speaking of things and people dear to my heart, it was with much sadness that I learned yesterday that Dave Arneson, co-creator of Dungeons & Dragons, died at the young age of 61. After the passing of Gary Gygax last year, this leaves a great hole in the gaming world. Rest in peace, fellas. I’ll throw a D20 in your honor.
Great post Pete. I know we are both pack rats (and evil twins) and I’ve been meaning to do a post with some of my momentos are rare items from my book collection, now I just need to get my scanner. I am also envious of the materials-free wanderer, I feel laden down in my fortress sometimes, but wouldn’t have it any other way. Now if I can only find that copy of The Stand…
Mmm, I must say I love this post. I would be a packrat too if my mom would let me. I love your Hobbit book. That really is a worthy treasure. I like the old covers because they really let you in to a moment of the story.
Each time I read one of my books I try to leave some sort of evidence of me in it to remind me of all the times I have been with it.
My question is: what about when your house starts overflowing and you have your daughter’s packratting too?? What do you then?
They can have my signed and numbered 1st edition copy of The Painted Man when they pry it from my cold, dead fingers. Beyond that, I don’t need much.
I often wonder what it will be like for Cassie’s generation. By the time she is old enough to read, all her books, from school to pleasure, will likely come on an e-reader. Comics and magazines, too. She will never own hard copy music, movies, or TV. Shit, she probably won’t have a TV, as it will be fully integrated with the computer by then. She will never have a need for hard copy photos; all her frames will be digital.
I’m sure she’ll be able to find things to packrat if she’s so inclined, but they won’t be the same things daddy did, and I’ll lay 50/50 odds that she lives a spacious existence of spartan decor like on Star Trek: the Next Generation.
Hello Peter,
I was just wondering, and this seemed a good way of questioning you, when will the 2nd book be out here in the UK?
Cheers,
Stewart
By the time Cassie is old enough to read, she’ll be able to packrat virtual items. She can leaf through her virtual album and book covers in her iTunes library. She can horde virtual magic items from her online role playing games and trade them with her buddies. She can sell licenses for her online comic books to her buddies when she’s done with them.
Virtual commerce will replace real commerce, and the packrat ethos will endure. Count on it.
What do you mean I made you throw out your Star Wars toys? I still have your large supply of Legos and more comic books that you haven’t taken to your home yet. I believe I also have some dungeons of doom or some such stuff.
Mom
There are some toys left at home, yes. My Legos (which will belong to Cassie soon), my crappy Archie comics (also soon to be Cassie’s), my GI Joes, Transformers, and D&D toys, including Castle Fang.
What you made me give away was:
TWO Empire Strikes Back Cloud City speeders
One Hoth ice speeder with harpoon and light-up lasers
One Hoth playset
One Tauntaun (with stuff Luke inside belly!)
One Dagobah playset
About two dozen figures in a Darth Vader head carrying case.
Oh, I remember…
You made him give away the Hoth playset? That’s just cruel.
I know this is an old post but I had to comment!! I LOVE LOVE LOVE old books like this! You pick it up and can just feel the love someone had for the book. I started making sure to keep all my favorite books (including Warded Man and Desert Spear) for my kids because I am scared my kids won’t have the option to hold a real book!