Shinybass Journal Entry 12/04/24

Hoarding.

‘We have too much stuff’.

If you have muttered these words under your breath as you try to make a path through your garage, you and I share a similar attribute. It all started with the best of intentions, right? We were going to take up fishing, or we said we could use that light fixture in the guest room (and then changed our minds). I know that 15 NERF guns should be enough for a formidable defense in the event of an attack of well-armed 7 year olds, but that last yard sale had a whole BOX of them for $1. We had to bring them home for us to trip over forevermore.

Such is our lives. I’m lumping you in with me, just because misery loves company. Your garage may be the one every neighbor silently covets; a single tote in the corner, a neat row of garden implements hanging from the far wall, even room to hang art that wasn’t allowed in the house by your wife. This level of organization and minimalist approach is secretly every man’s dream. Being able to walk in our house from our mailbox through the garage without brushing against a storage box or wayward appliance means one of two things: we’ve reached garage Shangri-la, garagri-la if you would, and we probably have a little less stress in our lives.

I have a lot of stuff. Too much. I am sentimental, a hopeful romantic, and I have one or two things that I just can’t seem to let go. I also have things we were ‘supposed’ to get to, which now I have to figure out. That will happen in time. I have a hammock. I have one tree in the back yard. Sink a pole, use the tree, and relax for a change? Is all that trouble worth the hour I’ll actually use said hammock? These are hard and real questions in my effort to reach my lawn mower.

In some ways, I look at getting rid of some things as failure. ‘I was going to restore that table, but never got around to it’. I have a vintage radio in my garage that is not far from being awesome. Then I would have to wait for all my kids to move out and not use the playroom for play before it made it into the house. Eh. Again, we wait, and then what? Wait for what?

Forgive me if I have told this story before, but there I was, in the middle of the South Pacific Ocean… No, really. King Konga was on a USO/AFE tour and we were on the little island of Kosrae to perform for the soldiers stationed there. I won’t lie, this was an insane trip. You can say ‘once in a lifetime’ and head to the DMZ or Kuwait, but this trip was to a remote corner of the world where very few travel. It was life-changing, and still a topic of conversations between the principles and friends over 2 decades later.

The locals carve beautiful creative works from local trees, crafting small keepsake wooden sea turtles to larger, more culturally traditional items. Tony and I saw some of these items for sale near our resort. In very broken English he told us he had more at his place for sale. We followed him into the jungle canopy and through the trees to his ‘home’. It was what some would call a camping cabin in the States; no glass windows, electricity or water. This man had 4 distinct areas to his home; a sleeping area, a cooking area, a carving area, and a mountain of coconut husks in the back yard. That was it. We bought a couple of things and left in sort of shocked silence. Where’s all his ‘stuff’?

I don’t know if this local was the village outcast, as there were homes nearby with modern amenities; electricity, access to satellite TV. Apparently hot water was not a ‘thing’ but we’ll deep dive into the development of Micronesia and its outlying islands at a later time. This man who sold us some great pieces had, as my Dad would say ‘Not a pot to piss in nor a window to throw it out of’.

Which then begs a whole new line of questioning, your honor. Do we acquire stuff because we need it, want it, have access to it, or are we filling some void somewhere? In the music world, we love to horde gear. Not all of us. Some have made the smart call to just have a few great tools and move on. Others (guilty) have amassed a few fun pieces of gear that we deem necessary. Eh, a thin argument, really. Our wants then kick in, and we pine for a piece of pine (game-used baseball bat), or a pine slab lovingly shaped into a guitar because we are humans and we want things. Fill the game room with those things. They make us happy and bring us joy. Hand that stuff down to your kids so they can have more stuff.

The unprecedented access to stuff makes life just too tempting. There are big box stores everywhere, and if that’s not enough, 24 hours a day I can tap on my phone and within hours, an inflatable Santa Claus in a Hawaiian shirt holding a drink can be at my doorstep. THAT is progress, right? Sure, I run out of kid’s shampoo and have it grey-trucked in, but I’m convinced that if we were all forced to drive a few hours to shop, AKA ‘going to town to get provisions’, we’d be bringing home more artsy and less fartsy.

The last question is the one I should have learned the answer to in psych class. The void we all possess in some form or fashion. I know folks that spend copious amounts of time ordering garbage from TV. ‘Oh, that looks like it would make my life more useful’ they say. George Clooney and his Flowbee not withstanding, how many grandparent’s closet’s top shelves are packed with one or two of these TV knife sets or Ginsu steamers? We are lonely, missing something somewhere, feeling ‘it’, and we go for retail therapy to fill the holes. It happens all the time.

Then the void is filled, and so is the house. Then we have to buy storage containers to contain the stuff that is overflowing our house. Then we fill the garage with stuff, then we trip over the stuff and curse the stuff and the kids learn bad words and stuff and then we have a garage sale to get rid of stuff but no one buys our stuff because it’s not the right stuff because they are looking for a Right Stuff movie poster and we have Apollo 13. Enough.

To gather is human, to de-clutter is divine.

As a good friend told me, don’t tackle this all at once. Small, small, baby steps will eventually eat this metaphorical 500-lb elephant, although eating an endangered specials is just wrong. How about the 500-lb cake? Yes, let’s eat that instead one bite at a time.

So before you get lured in by the deal at Costco, ask yourself, where will this end up in a year? In a yard sale, or still in practical use? Hopefully both so you can at least make a little money back. Or better yet, put that money you would have spent on impulse into a totally separate savings account, and watch how fast you can save for a weekend get away to see other stuff, not hoard your own with your horde.

Anyone want to buy a partially restored vintage radio?

See you…soon.