Stuff

Payday, woohoo! Go to the mailbox, retrieve the statement, put on reading glasses, "unzip" the envelope with a letter opener (it makes such a nice crisp tear and spares my fingers a possible paper cut), look directly at my take home pay, and sigh disappointedly. There it is, the fruits of my labor, the reward for my effort, what I exchanged those hours of my life for, grains of sand on the bottom of the hourglass once mine at the top still unused, now gone. I just shake my head and think I can't keep doing this, somehow I have to change this. I mean, I work so hard for this, this, pittance. There's things I want to do, stuff I want to get, this isn't gonna cut it!
For years when my kids were little I seemed to adhere to a mindset of accumulation. I think that is a typical characteristic of youth, the great pursuit of stuff accumulation. Being a big family we were often given things, clothes, toys and bikes, household gadgets, furniture, even an artificial Christmas tree that I continue to use to this day. I was as glad and thankful to accept as the giver's were glad and thankful to have someone to take the stuff off their hands! I would sift through, keep what we could use or had need of and space for, and pass on to someone else what we couldn't.
I'm a seamstress, crafter, decorator, designer who re-purposed long before it was "green" to do so! I took the term "one man's trash is another man's treasure" literally, finding tables, chairs, mirrors, Christmas decorations, glass vases and bottles, a steamer trunk, wheel barrow, and assorted items that have served us well after a good cleaning, painting, or makeover, and many things that I was able to re-craft and sell. I still have items that remind me of the days in the old station wagon with plenty of room for whatever we may find on our daily route between home and school, that I could just pull over and require one of my poor reluctant kids to throw in the back. Fortunately they were not too awfully traumatized by this activity as they now actually call me to tell me about what they "found"!
When they were little and pre-teen, they brought home bikes and lawn equipment, trimmers, mowers, even riding mowers that they re-built to be what suited their purposes. When they needed new rims or tires they'd find someone else's cast offs to get rolling again. They would get those mowers running and in fact kept our yard mowed that way for many years, and even mowed the neighbors yards, and got paid to do it! They taught themselves how to repair and build what they needed with pride in jobs accomplished, and new skills acquired. They had some of the best bikes around, maybe even THE best, one of a kind stop and take another look bikes! The boys had a reputation around these parts, they were the boys seen riding around town on the tall bike with the surf board, or the bike with the long front fork, or the boys who could be hired for lawn work. One bike built from scratch, using recycled or refurbished parts had a school bus yellow paint job with freshly painted black flames. After a brief first spin around the neighborhood upon completion, it was parked by the front door where in a 1/2 hours time it was stolen, never to be found. It's especially heartbreaking when bit by bit, piece by piece, that bike was given time and attention, culminating in a start to finish personal design of an 11 year old. Excitedly anticipated, proudly completed, a masterpiece, that some fool having no regard for person or property, without any sort of permission to do so, took. Came onto our privately owned little corner of the world in the broad daylight of a sunny afternoon, and took for himself what was in no way his to take. A young boy's labor of love, stolen, gone, only the scar left. After all these years it still makes me sad for him.
Unfortunately, that was not the only bike stolen, nor have bikes been the only stolen things. We have been robbed of tools, toys, cars, and peace. Our house has been broken into twice. The things stolen from us were of no great monetary value, a little cloisonne heart from my great aunt when I was a little girl, a cross cut by a jeweler friend out of a piece of stone brought back from a Colorado vacation, a high school championship ring, electronics, two origami dollar bills from a 12th birthday lunch. Just sentimental "things" that would not even fetch a nice price in a pawn shop. The thieves may have just tossed them by the way after realizing they would be of little or no use to them.
Our cars have been plundered, pushed out of the driveway, glass broken, wires cut, stereo equipment stolen. First cars are like good friends to 16 and 17 year old boys. One son made a custom fiberglass speaker box to precisely fit the back of his car. After working and finishing installment in the wee hours of the morning, he woke the next day, only a few hours later, to find it gone. He never even got to see it finished in the light of day. A thief was just watching and waiting for the house to go dark to make his thoughtless self serving move. Another son had his car almost stolen, but for a "kill switch" it would have been, he was left with steering column and ignition repairs, and a bent door frame. His second car was stolen right from the driveway, 15 feet from where he slept, 2 weeks after he'd completed the body work and applied a fresh paint job, all himself. The car was found stripped and returned a mere shell of what was stolen, after he paid the towing bill required to reclaim his property. He installed lights at the driveway to shine on the cars, and boots the wheels every night now. There have been numerous attempts, successes, and police reports. Happily one car thief was actually caught and required to pay restitution, as if that's really even possible. All else, just gone
We have done what we could to prevent future incidences, and yet it isn't enough. Today when my daughter went to her car to go to work, she came right back in the house to tell me someone had been in her car, the glove box was open, papers all over, radio gone. Her car is a beat up old junker, we didn't think there would be any reason for concern over it. She called me from work to ask me to check if her cd's were still there. They were not. She cried. they were cd's she made, songs she picked to make collections to suit whatever mood she was in. Her Keith Urban cd was in the case, the one she bought last summer on our vacation which included seeing his concert. I bought her the tickets as a high school graduation present.
It's stuff, I know it's stuff, but it's our stuff. Stuff that we invested our time, our attention, our very limited financial resources, our ideas, our emotions, little bits of ourselves into. No one else will fully appreciate that but us.
It is just stuff, but it is stuff that we worked hard for. Stuff that belongs to us either by purchase or by creation or both, stuff that is our personal property, in or on our personal property with rights to it belonging only to us! When anyone helps themselves to what is ours, not theirs, we must wonder what more might they feel entitled to help themselves to, what else might they have no regard for? As they steal our stuff, they steal our freedom to pursue whatever happiness the accumulation of our stuff may bring. The stuff that makes our home pretty, even if it was picked up at the curb. the stuff that makes our life more comfortable, such as a way to and from work and wherever we go. Stuff that was presented as a gift for an occasion or a job well done. Stuff that when we see it reminds us of things we want to remember. Stuff that our paychecks, our hours, our effort has purchased, OUR STUFF!
It takes a lot of time and sacrifice to be able to replace these things. Some of them will not be replaced, by choice. Some of them, most of them, cannot be replaced, they were one of a kind, handmade, or just old and unavailable now.
I see the numbers on my pay statement and know the exchange of time for dollars is not just compensation. I will use those dollars to pay for the necessities of living in our home, the one we've been in for 22 years. The only "home" the younger kids have ever known. A few of those dollars will go for un-necessary things like a meal out, or a new cd. The dollars will not last long at the rate they've been coming in and going back out. And as history has proven the stuff those dollars buy us may not stick around long either.
It would seem thieves would steal from targets that appear to have abundance, you know, live in big houses, drive expensive new cars, the ones you'd expect to have all the latest stuff. It would seem that the potential to be caught would not justify the risk on small peanuts like us. It would seem. Of course that is probably relative. Maybe when the thieves look at our house, and our cars and our stuff they do see abundance. Perhaps I see the abundance of others and it would seem I myself am "less fortunate'. Perhaps relatively speaking it is not as it would seem.
Every time this sort of thing happens I am inclined to say to myself, "It's time to pull up stakes and move to another place", leave the home we finally have made improvements to, finally have space well utilized, move to a better neighborhood. Then the mailman brings my pay statement and I think, perhaps it is not as it seems, relatively speaking.