ROANOKE TIMES
Copyright (c) 1996, Roanoke Times
DATE: Monday, December 2, 1996 TAG: 9612030048
SECTION: EDITORIAL PAGE: A-7 EDITION: METRO
COLUMN: Monty S. Leitch
SOURCE: MONTY S. LEITCH
WHAT DO you keep? What do you treasure?
If the world, as we know it, came to an end, what would you value enough to hold onto?
Of course, the world as you know it will end. It does end: with every passing minute, every passing day, the world-as-it-is becomes New World. What do you carry forward with you? And, do you think about these choices at all?
I have a particular fondness for movies that depict survivors of world disaster: all three "Mad Max" features, for instance; "Waterworld"; even "Night of the Living Dead."
In these stories, humans, stripped for survival, scavenge among the relics of their former lives to find what's truly useful, what's truly valuable in their present lives. Football helmets become genuine armor, honest protection in no-longer-metaphorical fights. Long-play records become objects of worship. Blue prints and grocery lists are illuminated and preserved as holy texts - mysterious talismans of lost knowledge, lost wealth. Landfills are mined for food. Fresh water becomes currency.
In the breach, which possessions will really count? And why? For me, these movies compel a re-examination of personal values.
Yesterday, in a parking lot, I spotted a bandless digital watch. I was in a hurry, so I didn't stop to see if it still worked. I don't need another watch anyway.
But after I'd passed it by, I wondered: Who might find such an object valuable? And why? Who might want to keep even a broken watch, and why?
I also wondered: What does it mean that in our present world a watch - perhaps a perfectly good watch - lies unwanted, unclaimed, on a parking lot, for who knows how long? Are we so wealthy, so object-laden, that this little marvel of technological achievement can be so blithely abandoned? A little ways from the watch lay a perfectly good ballpoint pen.
What do I keep?
I nearly always stop to pick up feathers. I keep them in a jar beside my desk. I pick up pretty rocks and sometimes shells; birds' nests, acorn clusters, pine cones, and, the last time I was at the beach, an abandoned Koosh ball.
I also keep letters from friends, birthday cards, picture postcards, hand-made gifts, newspaper clippings and fabric scraps. These are not "found" objects, but I value them for their beauty, and for the affection or regard that accompanied them.
Because my keepsakes are sometimes ecological and always sentimental, I am tempted to value them over the keepsakes of others; to imagine that hoarding feathers and stones is somehow "better" for the world than hoarding bank accounts, collectible dolls, Elvis memorabilia or real estate.
But objects are objects. You can't take them with you.
What do any of us keep that lie in the blood and the bone? Memories? Stories? The faint fragrance of loved ones?
My closets and cupboards, even my barn, are filled with objects: beautiful, valuable, useful objects. But even if I live a hundred years, I'll never have enough time to use or even appreciate them all. A hundred pretty feathers, a hundred pretty rocks - a hundred years would be too short a time for them, as well.
Twenty-two shopping days till Christmas, and these are the thoughts that burden me.
What do I value? What do I need? What do I even want?
What do you?
Monty S. Leitch is a Roanoke Times columnist.
LENGTH: Medium: 69 linesby CNB