Ruminations on stuff

Aweh dearly beloved fellow ruminants & groupies

The subject of today’s blog is stuff. I’m referring to all those physical possessions that have somehow found their way into your life, whether purposefully acquired or stumbled upon over the years. It encompasses everything from your prized possessions to those piles of documents sitting in forgotten drawers. But really, how crucial is this stuff, and just how much of it do we truly need?

Let’s dive in by dissecting my own assortment of long-sleeve button-up shirts. I’ve collected these over the years—despite giving away a few and handing off some to my sons, I find myself still surrounded by a whopping 58 shirts! In the past, I was ridiculously particular about them, insisting on designer cotton shirts like they were the holy grail of clothing. What was I even thinking? Oh, and let’s not forget the handful of bespoke tailored shirts inherited from my late father-in-law, who also had a large collection of shirts.

Nowadays, I rarely grace these shirts with my presence, opting instead for a more relaxed attire as I embrace my journey towards scruffy old-age style, much to the disgust of Nerine who married a dapper well-dressed man. Occasionally for some form of occasion Nerine tries to elevate my fashion game, and I reluctantly comply by dusting off one of these shirts—maybe once a month. And nope, I don’t even bother tucking them in anymore. Apparently, that’s the fashion now. Who would’ve thought?

So, the realisation hits: I could easily part ways with most of these shirts, and my life wouldn’t skip a beat. Consider it an early resolution for 2024. Then there’s the matter of my vast CD collection lurking in a cupboard, gathering dust like ancient relics. Truth be told, I haven’t laid a finger on them in years since I hopped onto the Apple Music bandwagon. If these discs were to vanish mysteriously from our house, it’s highly probable I wouldn’t notice their absence for years, if ever.

Now, when it comes to my extensive book collection, I admit, there’s a twinge of sentimentality attached. Our Johannesburg house, with its multitude of rooms, double garages, and a storage room bursting with furniture, appliances, art, and whatnot, makes me question: Will I ever summon the strength to sift through this mountain of belongings and bid farewell to most of it? Frankly, it seems highly unlikely unless circumstances compel me to do so.

Friends of mine are moving abroad to a smaller house, and they’re in for the agonising task of decluttering their lifetime stash. I do not envy them. The thought of confronting my own heap of belongings and sifting through them is a daunting prospect. It seems that only when faced with relocation do we muster the courage to confront this overwhelming challenge head-on.

There is one area of my life where I am extremely minimalist and that is paper documents. Much to the horror of one of my more clerically diligent friends I have thrown almost all of it away. No files, no filing cabinets – nada. I’ve condensed my vital documents into a single picture frame in our bedroom. You’ll find our property deeds, car registrations, and a few other essentials snugly framed there.  Passports and degrees reside in a drawer alongside our boys’ birth certificates. Oh, and let’s not forget the miscellaneous box housing appliance manuals and warranties, tossed in a manner that screams “organized chaos.”

 My original will is stored at my executor’s offices. I was recently asked for my birth certificate. I don’t have one nor does my mother have it. I have never needed it before.  The process of trying to extract a birth certificate out of the dysfunctional department of home affairs will be agonising and will probably involve “facilitators”. I’m not sure I’m going to bother. My lack of diligence in storing and neatly filing all the essential original documents required is now predicted to cause great misery and delays in wrapping up my estate. I have too much stuff and insufficient apparently crucial paper documents. Quite why the bureaucrats of this world still require original paper documents in this digital age eludes me.

What stuff really has value for me? I like my overly fast car and value things like the computer I’m writing this blog on as well as other gadgets like my phone, Ipad and Bluetooth speakers. I would immediately replace them if they were stolen or broken. But they are replaceable commodities and I have no sentimental attachment to them. They also become obsolete and ultimately need to be replaced by a later model although I tend to hang onto these items until they really need to be replaced. I replaced my iPhone 6P in early 2020 when it was stolen with an iPhone 11 which is still going strong. I have no need to rush out and get an iPhone 15.

What is the meaning of stuff? Beyond the obvious functional utility of regularly used items, what’s the purpose of stockpiling things that serve no practical function and wouldn’t be noticed if they vanished into thin air? In our younger years, we amass stuff like there’s no tomorrow, only to witness the tides of fashion and technology wash away the bulk, leaving behind a handful of useful things and an ocean of junk. Eventually, we reach a point—peak stuff, if you will—where either willingly or forcefully, we bid farewell to our surplus stuff much of which will ultimately end up in a landfill waste disposal site  contributing to the colossal waste disposal problem.

Accumulating stuff and constantly upgrading it is an essential part of our economic system. If we all became minimalists our economies would collapse. Yet if we consider the environmental footprint of the mindless accumulation of stuff, we can go a long way to understanding things like the climate change dilemma we are facing.

I want to express my gratitude for all the ideas and comments received. I genuinely appreciate them, and please continue to share your thoughts.

Regards

Bruce