May 23, 2021

#11: Why do we keep so much stuff around?

To me, Toy Story 3 has one of the most perfect endings of any story. At the film’s conclusion, Andy, the main kid of the first three films, passes on his beloved childhood toys to someone else. Andy plays with his toys one last time with their new owner and eventually leaves them behind with her, looking back only for a moment.

In the next film, Toy Story 4, Bonnie, the toys’ new owner, ends up not really caring for some of them, and she ultimately loses Woody, Andy’s favorite toy. While Toy Story 4, in my opinion, doesn’t end on the same poignant note as it’s predecessor, Andy most likely never knows Woody’s fate. All he remembers is the final beautiful moment with him where he said goodbye.

As of the writing of these words, the season is changing from Spring to Summer. I find myself participating in a yearly ritual many of us partake; something I like to call: “The Dance of A/C Installation.” The dance starts with beads of sweat forming at the temple, an indication of warmer days ahead of us, and it continues with upward climbs and decants, of hands and feet, into and down from our dusty attics. Each dance ends with a balancing act of window and sill as each unit locks into place for the season.

The dance is performed in the equal amount of air conditioning units stored in the household, and on my fourth accent into the attic, a particular batch of boxes caught my eye. Just passed our hibernating Christmas decorations slept old Nintendo Power magazines and boxes filled with boxes of Nintendo 64 games.

As Mario and Star Fox looked upon me, I began to wonder: why do we keep so much stuff around?

In May of 2020, my wife and I moved into our home in one of New York’s suburbs. (Pandemic moving is a different story for a different day.) This home is now my third place of residence, and the third time I have moved. Each move brought a bigger home, and that, inevitably, brought with it more stuff. My video game memorabilia, part of that stuff, has followed me from place to place.

Deep thought and reflection on their importance is not needed. I know exactly why I initially kept them. In the 90s, I was a subscriber to Nintendo’s now defunct magazine and read each issue to cover-to-cover. The game boxes? Those were kept because of their ascetics and the possibility that they’d be worth something in the future. (Spoiler alert: they’re not.) Today, I’m left wondering what’s making me keep them in my possession?

Since I was a kid, I’ve always felt bad about getting rid of things that meant something to me. I attribute this to the original Toy Story as I believed every item had it’s own unique soul or personality when I left the room. Most likely, it’s what’s making me keep these particular items safely resting in my attic (among others). In other contexts, I do not have a problem throwing things out. Just this morning, I filled up bags of garbage to clear up clutter in the house. However, these items have sentimental meaning to me. I simply cannot put them on the curb.

So, what’s the end game here? Will my future coffin be packed with these items? Or, will they become the shackles for my children to deal with? At some point, someone will discard them.

I am searching for my Toy Story 3 moment with them. I want one last glorious moment with them before I pass them on to someone who I think can appreciate them. What they do with them, ultimately, is not for me to know. They may cherish them or chuck them. All I want is that one final moment with them to say goodbye and then move on.

Goodbyes can come in many forms, and I don’t have to make it my full-time job finding new homes for all my sentimental items. However, I am making it a goal of mine to say my goodbyes to these particular childhood relics by the time I participate in the dance again next year.

These items at one point helped a young and lonely boy dream and feel like he belonged to something a little bigger than himself. I haven’t needed them to fill that void in a very long time. It’s time for them to find a new home, whatever that home may be.

Thanks for reading.